Page 8 of Royal Baby Maker

“Hello?” I asked. “Did you... leave?”

Nothing.

Spreading my fingers, I spotted him standing their proudly in his briefs, hands on his hips as if to say, “Like the view?”

And I fucking did.

“Come on!” I groaned, covering my eyes again. “That's not even fair!”

“Well, maybe that was a little mean. But do you really want to miss your shot at seeing an honest to god prince in the nude?”

“You're too forward.”Or too good at reading my mind. Slowly but surely I slid my hands away. Bishop was focused on me like a dragon who'd spotted a fine piece of treasure.

Knowing how I was gawking at his finely carved muscles—the swirls of ink that curled over his chest, biceps, and vanished into his briefs... I wondered how hungryIlooked.

He read my face, full lips tightening. His hand closed on my wrist. “Follow me.”

We were halfway up the curved staircase when I understood what I was doing. But we were stepping over the threshold of the hallway bathroom before my logical brain cells fired again. “Wait, this is too soon. I'm not ready to shower with you!”

Shutting the door behind me, he let me go. “Relax.” Reaching over the gorgeous black and gold tiles of the step-in shower, he twisted the knobs. “Nothing will happen... unless you want it to.”

I swallowed around the hard lump in my throat. “That's the problem.” His head whipped around so he could stare at me. Realizing what I'd just admitted to, I threw my hands up. “That came out wrong! I meant—even if I did want to do something, we... we can't, you know, because you're a prince and I'm a not-prince and you have ladies waiting to marry you and and...” I was babbling.

He moved to stand over me. Gently but firmly he grabbed the hem of my shirt.

“What are you doing?” I asked, the words vibrating on my tongue from my nervous shaking.

“You don't want to get your clothes wet,” he whispered. “Well, not all of them.”

- Chapter Four -

Bishop

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This fucking woman.

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