Page 36 of Princessa
Something in me changed the night thePrincess of Savannahtold me she was a virgin. I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t already falling for the gorgeous, caramel-toned diva. But learning she’d not been with another, well, it made the respect, admiration, and the cock-twitching appetite I had for her skyrocket to the moon. To me, the fact she was still a virgin said she respected her body as a sexual powerhouse, taking her time to choose who was worthy enough to make the cut.
That evening, after she explained all the shit that went down with her ex, we spent after-dark hours doing nothing more than heavy kissing, some touching, then cuddling while we slept—yes, it was hard as hell for me to resist everything about her, resist the need to fuck her, the yearning to make love to her. I hoped to be lucky enough for that day to come. But since that night, we’d been on this sort of escalated spend-time-together venture.
Breakfast. Her lunch break. Dinner. Alternating late nights between her suite and mine. Even Diamond, the little primadonna fur ball, got used to my suite as her second home. It was a routine we’d all mastered into a habit.
Never had I met anyone like Arabella—and I was one crazy-for-her fool.
I slowed down, swiping sweat off my face with the front of my T-shirt. “I’m falling for her, Finn.”
Finn looked at me as though I’d just bought him a one-way ticket to what-the-fuckville. “Falling for who? Arabella?”
I nodded, raking my fingers through my hair.
“Didn’t see that one coming.” He dished a saucy roll of his eyes.
“Sarcasm isn’t really your color.”
“Come on, Grayson, it’s been pretty obvious since day one. Honestly, I figured it was a case of insta-love, like in one of those stupid nineteen-nineties chick flicks or, even worse, a telenovela.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I hated the sappy grin that stretched across my face, only because he was right—insta-love, be it in a movie or a telenovela, seemed to be apparently real.
“What are you gonna do about it?”
“You’re my bloody royal advisor. You tell me.” We turned to walk the three miles back to the resort.
“More like seventy-five percent bodyguard, twenty-five percent advisor,” he joked. “But in all seriousness, you know the next steps, YourEnamoredHighness.”
Finn was right. I knew what had to be done. I just needed the balls to do it.
Once back at the resort and inside my suite, I picked up my phone and dialed the person I’d put off calling since fleeing the palace weeks ago.
Beads of sweat clung to my temples, not because I’d just jogged three miles. No, I was nervous, almost unsure if I’d be able to spit out the words when she answered.
“Grayson, my love. Where are you?”
“Mother…I’ve met someone.”
