Page 67 of Royal Icing
Everything about this night had been intoxicating. Maybe it was the glass of wine, or the humid warmth of the greenhouse. The smell of green everywhere. Or maybe it was just Leo.
He was a mystery. A masterpiece. A prince with all the room to be an entitled asshole in the world, but instead of playing polo and cashing in on brand deals, he spent his time on the ground, working tirelessly to make improvements for the country that he loved.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him as they revolved slowly on the spot. Candlelight flickered in his brown eyes. A peculiar feeling flooded her, like she was sinking into a bathtub full ofhot chocolate. They had learned more about each other in a week than people she had known for years. The desire to know everything about him was overwhelming. What food did he eat when sick? What was his favorite movie? Would she ever see him again? Were transatlantic friends with benefits a thing?
If she wasn’t careful, this situation was going to get very out of hand.
The music flowed around them as they swayed together among flowers of every color. He spun her out and pulled her back in so that her back pressed against his chest. God, he smelled good. Like wood shavings and pine and fresh mountain air.
The heat of his breath reached her neck a moment before his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to the spot just beneath her earlobe, sending a shiver down her spine. For a moment she just absorbed it all. Believed in the fantasy.
A slow dance in a greenhouse full of roses with a prince who had saved her life. It was really too bad that the end of this story would be here in a matter of days.
But she could breathe this secret meeting in and carry it with her always. One perfect moment full of promise and the trappings of love, even though it was all just a dream.
The song was coming to an end. She needed to get ready and plan the long evening of baking that lay ahead.
But just a little longer. She twisted in his arms so she could look at him and linked her hands behind his neck. She wanted to see him, commit to memory the grip of his capable hands, the taste of wine on her tongue, and the perfume of roses in the air.
The look in his eyes was indescribable but poignant. More intensity than you’d use to look at someone who was just a friend. Sultry, attentive, almost hungry.
As the last chord faded, she dragged him down to her and pressed her lips against his. If they only had one moment, she was going to make it one to remember.
Their tongues danced, and her hands went to his suit jacket. She slipped it off, let it drop to the floor. His shoulders were broad and strong under her grasp.
His hand came up to cup her breast, and her whole body stiffened and shuddered. It had been so long since she had been touched like this. The handful of Tinder dates she’d been on in two years didn’t come close.
Her body yearned for his in a way that defied logic. It wasn’t just the rush of early relationship butterflies. It was like a tenuous thread had connected them their whole lives, and unseen forces had snapped it taut the moment she had set foot in Lynoria.
Did he feel any of this, or was she completely delusional?
Shut up, Emma.
Her fingers went to the buttons on his collared shirt. Maybe if she kept her hands busy, she could quiet her damn mind and allow herself to just feel.
The shirt slipped away, falling to join the jacket. And now there was an undershirt. So many damn layers. What would she find next, a petticoat?
His fingers clawed at her back, probably searching for a zipper. When he didn’t find one, he took her roughly by the hips and steered her toward the table. His hand left her side, and suddenly everything crashed to the floor—china, glasses, the remainder of the bottle of wine.
She flinched and pushed back from Leo, panic immediately flaring in her chest like a spark on a gas can. She stumbled backward and cried out when a thorn pinched the back of her arm in the exact spot of her long, thin scar.
Danger. Her body screamed at her. She needed to leave, hide. She scrambled toward the exit.
“Emma? What’s wrong?” Leo called to her. His eyebrows contracted, and his arms were open, like he was trying to approach a fawn without startling it.
“Nothing, sorry. I?—”
Her breath was coming in gasps, and she struggled to get the panic under control. Not now.
His gaze fell to the floor where the glass shards glittered, and his face crumpled.
“I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry.” He reached for her, but her hand closed into a fist, and he stopped.
“I should go,” she said over numb lips. “The kitchen will be empty soon.”
“Emma, I?—”
She grabbed her snow boots and dashed out of the greenhouse before he could finish his sentence.
