Page 58 of Landing Her Eagle
“Time to rise and shine, sunshine—breakfast, tour, and then Christmas markets. I know I’ve turned you into a sex fiend, but we can’t spend all our time in here boinking. We need to experience this beautiful town.”
“Logan,” I whine, “come back to bed. I miss you!”
It doesn’t work because that fine ass walks into the bathroom and closes the door. Ugh. When the door opens a few moments later, I think I’m going to get my way, but no. Logan is being a gentleman, asking if I need to use the bathroom before he gets in the shower. We may be best friends and lovers, but our relationship is most definitely not at thelet’s pee in front of each otherstage. We should save some things for after marriage…or for never.
I start the shower in hopes Logan will join me. Like always, he doesn’t disappoint me. Many soapy minutes later leave neither of us disappointed—getting clean has never felt so dirty. Rising from my knees, I finish rinsing off and step out of the shower into the warm towel Logan is holding open for me.
“Daphne, these have been the best days of my life. I love you so much,” he tells me while he folds me in the towel.
I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his chest. Hearing his heartbeat is one of my most favorite sounds in the entire world. I place a kiss on his pec and melt a bit when he kisses the crown of my head. I love hair kisses. I never knew that was a thing for me, but coming from Logan, it is. Okay, kisses anywhere coming from Logan do it for me, but the gentleness and affection of those kisses make my tummy flip.
“C’mon, we need to dress so we can have breakfast and do our tour. Lots of things to do today,” he says, securing my towel and pulling away. He hands me a second towel so I can run it over my dripping hair. The towel wrapped around his trim waist drops to the floor when he turns to walk into the bedroom. I enjoy the view before moving to the bathroom counter to get ready.
34
LOGAN
The private tourof the hotel is captivating. The guide shares so much information about the history of the property and the unique architectural features, like a well dating back to the sixteenth century and stunning stained-glass windows.
The tour guide ambles ahead and turns the corner. Before Daphne can follow, I pull her against me and press my lips to hers, this hallway the spotlight for our love story, with the dappled winter sunlight coming through the leaded windows.
“We could spend a month here taking tours and never be bored. I love doing things like this with you.” I rub my nose against hers. “Enjoying our nerdy hobbies. Having fun.”
Being lovers is wonderful, but first and foremost, she’s my best friend, and I’ve missed being with her like this. As much as I’d love to spend a month here with her, I’m also eager to go home. I’m ready to start our life together and implement the ideas I have for my career. But she’s so excited, loving every minute of our adventure. I don’t know how to bring up changing our plans and flying home early. This is her first trip. I don’t want to cheat her out of the experience.
“If we buy things at the markets,” Daphne says as we approach the first Christmas Market, “how are we getting them home?”
She swings our clasped hands back and forth while we walk. It’s adorable. Liam would tease me for being a sappy wuss, but I don’t care. There will come a day when he falls in love and will do sappy, wussy things, and I’ll be happy for him. I’ll also rag on him because that’s what we do, but I’ll still be happy for him.
Squeezing her hand, I swing along with her. “I guess it depends how much we buy. The easiest thing to do would be to pack things in our bags. We can move things around to make room. Or we could buy a bag and check it if necessary. You had the carry-on, so another bag isn’t a big deal. We’ll figure it out.”
“Cool. I want to pick up something for Mallory as a souvenir and then something else for her Christmas gift. Maybe we can find Christmas presents for your family?”
She gasps.
We’ve hit our first glimpse of the Place Gutenberg market, and she’s all wide eyes and open mouth.
I smile. Christmas markets here aren’t like the festivals and craft shows at home with the rows of white pop-up tents. Here, vendors build wooden stalls and there are festive lights strung overhead. It’s magical. Fortunately, it’s not bitterly cold and uncomfortable to be outside, but it’s still cold enough that Daphne snuggles against my side for warmth. The day is overcast, so the lights are lit this afternoon.
“It’s like being in a Hallmark movie,” Daphne breathes. I bark out a laugh because that’s such a random thing to say, but it’s true.
“If this was a Hallmark movie, there would be a wise shopkeeper sharing the secret of Christmas with someone who lost sight of the true meaning of the holiday. There would be snowflakes. Oh, and a horse-drawn carriage ride.”
Laughing, Daphne rests her head against my arm before stretching to press a kiss on my cheek.
“And if it was a Howlbark movie, the horses would end up being shifters earning extra money to save their family’s farm.” She takes a deep breath and groans. “Let’s grab a snack. Everything smells so good!”
She leads me to a stall full of baked goods where we decide to get one pretzel topped with chocolate and a second more traditional savory version with salt and share both. We’ll stop for dinner on the way back to the hotel, so the pretzels—they call them bretzels here, but it’s a pretzel as far as we’re concerned—are a nice snack to hold the worst of our hunger at bay.
Daphne moans when she takes a bite of the salted pretzel. “Oh my gosh. This is so good.”
I’ve heard that moan several times this weekend, and my cock doesn’t care that it’s in a different context. He still stirs in interest. How he wasn’t hard every time he was within six feet of Daphne through the years, I don’t know. Not that he had much of an opportunity. It’s part of the reason I traveled so much. It was pure torture to be near Daphne when I thought I couldn’t be with her the way I longed to be. Now that she’s mine, I don’t plan on traveling as much, especially if she can’t come with me.
As we wander the assorted markets, I get great shots of the stalls and the decorations. It’s merely a coincidence that Daphne is often in the frame.
“Why do you keep taking pictures of me? There are all these wonderful things here. You don’t need to be taking pictures of me.”
Oops.
