Page 50 of Fake Dating the Prince

Flip took a deep breath. “I want you to set up internal interviews—someone who’s looking for a long-term commitment but who already has a solid amount of experience as head of an individual security team.”

Celine paused. “Your Highness?”

“Brayden’s going to need a permanent detail.” The idea still seemed impossible, but he couldn’t deny how right it felt. He knew that sometimes their duties would separate them, and Brayden would need his freedom when Flip was occupied elsewhere. “We’ll start looking in the New Year.”

Celine broke into a smile. “Yes, Your Highness. And… congratulations.”

When Flip entered his apartment, he spotted his tea mug right away—one with antlers for a handle that Brayden had bought in Finland at the hotel gift shop. It was already steeping with his habitual nighttime blend—something with lavender and rosehips and absolutely no caffeine.

He had every intention of starting that conversation about social media—he needed Brayden to know he wasn’t angry and that Flip would put a whole team of Cedrics at Brayden’s disposal if he wanted to have an official account—but he heard the water running in the shower.

Serious conversation could wait. Flip skipped the tea and went straight to the bedroom, following Brayden’s trail of stripped-off clothes and leaving his own.

Brayden had left the bathroom door only partially closed, and he looked up when Flip opened the shower door, eyelashes clumped together, skin rosy pink. “What’s a guy have to do for some privacy around here?” he teased, stepping back unnecessarily to make room. “These are the prince’s private rooms, you know.”

Flip could have bantered with him for hours. Instead he kissed him and stepped under the spray to take his face in both hands and taste his smile. Brayden spread his palms on Flip’s chest, tangling lightly in the hair there, but he went easily when Flip nudged him back against the shower wall. “We’d better hurry up before he catches us, then.”

Brayden’s breath rushed out in a whoosh as Flip trailed kisses over his chin and jaw. “Is that… is that so?”

Flip hummed into the juncture of his neck and slid his hands down Brayden’s back to the curve of his ass. “Think you can be quick?”

“I….” Brayden exhaled shakily as Flip eased himself to his knees. “…think that won’t be a problem.”

Flip didn’t bother taking it slow. Tonight he wanted to take Brayden apart hot and dirty. He pinned his hips to the wall and swallowed him down, teasing his thumbs over the tops of Brayden’s thighs. Brayden cursed as though he hadn’t expected that, and his cock went from half-hard to fully erect against Flip’s tongue.

“Oh my God,” Brayden moaned. He had one hand braced against the wall, the fingers balled into a fist, but he raised the other, brought it to Flip’s face, and traced his orbit and then his cheek before thumbing at the corner of his mouth. “Fuck.”

Flip had never given head in a shower before, and the thrill of it superseded the ache in his knees and the difficulty of breathing without getting water in his nose. His own cock bobbed between his legs, wanting attention of its own, but Flip focused on the sweet salt of Brayden’s skin, the minute trembling in his thighs. Everything was slick and hot and steamy, and when Flip wet a finger and pressed it between Brayden’s cheeks, he moaned and curled his fingers tight into Flip’s hair and said, “God—sorry—fuck,” and came, salt-sour on Flip’s tongue.

Flip licked his lips and swallowed. Then he looked up, trying desperately to suppress his laughter. “Sorry?” he echoed, getting unsteadily to his feet.

“Shut up, Your Highness,” Brayden said, taking him by the elbows and pushing him against the wall.

But Flip couldn’t help himself, and the laugh started to take over. “That’s soCanadian—”

Brayden cut him off with a kiss and a hand around his cock, sliding the foreskin forward and back, and Flip had a bright, heart-stopping moment of clarity that this was it, this was the man he would spend the rest of his life with, before pleasure took over.

They dressed in their pajamas and went to sit on the couch in front of the fire, Flip with his tea and a paperback he’d been meaning to finish for months, Brayden with one of Flip’s mother’s crossword books. Flip tucked his feet under Brayden’s thigh when they got cold, and Brayden put the throw blanket from the back of the couch over Flip’s lower legs without looking up.

I love him. Flip let himself consciously use the word for the first time. It felt right, as cozy and warm as the fire and the blanket.

“Zany, six letters?”

“Madcap,” Flip murmured, flexing his toes.

His mother had been right. He couldn’t let Brayden slip away from him. Flip would wait until Christmas was over, with all the negative associations it held for Brayden. And then he would do something the opposite of impulsive.

CHRISTMASmorning Flip woke Brayden with a soft kiss on the cheek. “Morning, love. Merry Christmas.”

Brayden was still mostly asleep, warm and happy to laze around in Flip’s bed. Better still if he could get Flip to laze with him. “Mmm. Happy Gita Jayanti. Come back to bed.”

Flip chuckled and ran his fingers through Brayden’s hair. “My father’s expecting me. But there’s breakfast in the family room in a few hours if you want to come.”

Brayden mumbled in agreement and went back to sleep.

When he woke again, his stomach was rumbling. A glance at the clock showed he wouldn’t be late for Christmas breakfast if he hurried, and he wanted to be there when Flip’s family members opened their presents, so he brushed his teeth, put on his own nicest jeans and one of the beautiful amethyst sweaters Cedric had procured for him, and hustled off to the common rooms.

“Brayden!”

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