Chapter 14 — Lisabet

I occasionally have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. A romantic weekend in Paris with the Prince Miles of Oxland seems like something straight out of a swooning teenager’s diary. And yet, here I am. Living the reality, the center of Miles’ attention like the only star in his sky.

I notice a few important things when we venture out to explore the city.

The first is that he’s dressed down. Casual and breezy. Dark green t-shirt that’s a little loose, black jeans that are slightly baggy. He wears a black baseball cap low on his head, as well as a large pair of sunglasses despite the fact it’s overcast, not a hint of sunshine anywhere.

I’m busy taking in the sights.

He’s busy keeping his head low.

I take a deep breath before reaching out to him, threading my fingers through his. It’s a perfectly innocent gesture, helps me keep pace with him as we weave in and out of the crowds. And yet the butterflies in my stomach are aflutter. I’m aware of the risks, of the dangers. We’re out in public. Someone could see us together. But the urge to hold his hand is stronger than the need for privacy. I just want to make sure he’s having a good time, and this is my silent way of asking.

Much to my relief, Miles doesn’t pull away.

In fact, he gives my fingers a squeeze.

He blends into the crowd very well. I suppose that at a glance, Miles is just some random passerby. We walk at a brisker pace than most, never idling for too long. It feels very much like our route is predetermined, never following a sense of wanderlust to explore interesting alleyways or minor tourist traps like souvenir shops or street performers painted in bronze or silver pretending to be statues for change.

As magical as Paris is, it all feels…

Rushed.

The Louvre is fantastical, almost otherworldly. Countless works of priceless art all gathered in one place, but it’s a shame that we don’t stick around to check out the other exhibits. The view from Montmartre is heavenly, but Miles and I only stick around for a quick lunch inside a bistro before leaving. The Pompidou Centre is a colorful, vibrant museum that captures my heart the second we step inside, but we only spend about an hour there before Miles ushers me to our next location.

It’s only after we’ve made it to the Bouquinistes that I realize why Miles is in such a hurry.

We’re being followed.

There are one or two men, both with impressively large cameras slung around their necks, following us at a distance. I didn’t notice them before because they hadn’t been doing anything out of the ordinary. There are tons of people around with their own cameras, taking pictures of their loved ones in front of famous Parisian monuments.

But I can read Miles’ tension, his protective arm around me, the way he stays close to block me from view.

“How long have they been following us?” I whisper to him as discreetly as possible.

“A while. Since lunch. I can’t be sure if they recognize me completely.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case.”

“What makes you so confident?”

“If they knew who you were, there’d probably be a dozen other paps swarming you right now.”

The tightness in Miles’ shoulders doesn’t seem to let up.

I release his hand and turn. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just stay here, okay? I’ll take care of it.”

“Lisabet, wait—”

I walk over to the two men, who are now locked in conversation with one another. They seem a bit surprised to see me.

“Can we help you, miss?” the first asks, a hint of a Thalian accent lingering off his words.

“Sorry to trouble you,” I say, “but I can’t help but notice that you’ve been following us.”

The second man gives an apologetic smile. “Following—oh, I see what’s happening here. We actually thought that you were following us.”

“What?”

“This is my husband, Sebastian. I’m Klaus. We’re here on our second honeymoon. I think we’ve just been seeing all the same touristy areas that you have.”

I breathe a small sigh of relief and laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume.”

Sebastian chuckles. “That’s all right. What are the odds, huh?”

I laugh. “Exactly. Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it. Have a great second honeymoon.”

When I return to Miles, he’s wearing an expression that’s some mix between proud and surprised.

“Everything all right?” he asks, an uneasy edge to his question.

“Yes. They’re tourists, just like us.” I reach for his hand and give his fingers a squeeze. “So you don’t have to worry anymore, okay? You can relax. Enjoy yourself a bit.”

Miles’ shoulders loosen up, his face softening as he gazes down at me. “I’ve been hurrying you,” he realizes. “My apologies. I only meant to protect you.”

My cheeks warm at his comment. “You don’t have to do that, Miles. I appreciate it, but I…Well, I think I can handle myself.”

“You’re absolutely right.” He smiles, eyes lighting up like the Fourth of July. “Where shall we go next? I promise we’ll take our time.”

I giggle. “To be honest, I’m pretty beat. All this running around has taken it out of me.”

“Back to the hotel, then? I’ll be sure to have them bring up a nice meal.”

“That sounds delightful. Do you know what kind of desserts they have? I’d kill for a Nutella crepe.”

Miles grins at me with devilish charm. “Is that the only kind of dessert you’re looking forward to?”

I throw my head back and laugh. “That was so unbelievably cheesy.”

“True, but did it work?”

I step closer, circling his neck with my arms to peer up at his tantalizing lips. “Oh, definitely. Non-cheesy pick-up lines don’t fly with me, mister.”

Miles dips down and kisses me tenderly, chuckling into it. His amusement’s contagious, because it passes through me and fills my entire chest with a sensation like crackling electricity. The sounds of Paris fade into the distance, my general awareness of our surroundings melding into an incomprehensible blur. The only thing that keeps me anchored to reality is the taste of his lips, the warmth of his body, and the delicious scent of his cologne. When we finally break apart, it’s only for a few seconds with barely an inch between us.

“Shall we?” he asks lowly.

I nod, too stunned and wonderfully dizzy to remember how to speak.

*

The rush to the hotel is forgettable, but what takes place thereafter is anything but.

Between heated kisses, wandering hands, and the adrenaline swimming through my veins, I lose myself in the neediness of his touch and the eagerness of his lips. I close my eyes as he presses me up against the nearest wall, mouthing at my neck like a man on a mission.

It suddenly occurs to me that it doesn’t matter where I find myself so long as I’m with Miles. We could be in Paris. Back in New York. In Oxland. Dropped off in the middle of nowhere. But it’s not the location that matters.

All that matters is him.

I don’t need to explore some foreign land to feel alive. I can do that simply by dragging my fingers over the large expanse of his chest. I don’t need to try delicious new foods when I’d be perfectly content eating him up.

It was never like this with Robert.

Robert put in half the effort and then called it a day.

Miles throws everything he has into pleasing me, and then takes it one step further by going above and beyond. It was overwhelming at first, but I’m slowly growing accustomed to this new normal. Excellence and perfection are what he strives for, are his bottom line. And the fact that he wants to shower me with every ounce of his undivided attention makes me feel special beyond description.

And I think I might be falling for him.

Really falling for him.

What’s alarming is just how hard and fast I seem to be doing so.

“Miles?” I whisper, combing my fingers through his hair as he peppers kisses up my jaw.

“Hm?” he mumbles. His hands slip down my sides, finding their way beneath the fabric of my shirt. The gentle scrape of his nails against my skin sends a shiver up my spine.

“I think…I think we need to talk.”

Miles stops what he’s doing. “Everything okay?”

I smile. “Yes. Yes, everything’s okay. It’s just—”

“Just what?”

I take a deep breath. “I really like you, Miles. I just…The last time I felt this way about someone, I rushed into a marriage that we both wound up regretting. I like you a lot, and I want to see where things go, but I want to make sure we’re on the same page before we do. Because if this is some kind of fling to you, then…Well, I hope it’s not.”

Miles cups my face and looks deep into my eyes. “I’ve never been more taken with anyone in my entire life, Lisabet. What can I do to reassure you of my feelings? I’ll announce it to the entire world if you want me to.”

“Seems like a lot of pressure.”

He nods. “It is. If I’m being truthful, I’m doing my best to keep the public out for your sake.”

“My sake?”

“I’ve had years of media training. I’ve heard every compliment, as well as every slander. I don’t want to see you go through the same hardships.”

“Well, we don’t have to make it Facebook official or anything, but…”

Miles chuckles. “Lisabet, will you be my girlfriend?”

I can’t fight the smile that spreads across my face. “Yeah,” I say softly. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

“We can take things as slow as you want,” he says. “Whatever you need to feel comfortable.”

“I can think of a couple ways you could help with that.”

“Oh? Do enlighten me.”

I kiss him sweetly. “I think you already know.”

“I think I do,” he says before immediately scooping me up and carrying me to the bedroom.

It isn’t until Miles is laying me down on the luxurious silk sheets, helping me slip out of my clothes, and kissing every inch of my exposed skin that I fully understand what just happened.

Miles.

Prince Miles.

He’s my boyfriend.

I suppress the giddiness that bubbles into my lungs as Miles settles between my legs, his big hands gripping at my thighs as he works me over with his skillful tongue. Bursts of pleasure surge through me, leaving me to grab at the sheets in search of stability. A deep, all-consuming warmth beings to build deep within my core as Miles draws tight circles against me, expertly responding to my every tremble, gasp, and moan.

A burst of ecstasy sweeps over me in an explosive and sudden instant, ripping a languid groan from somewhere deep within me. My vision whites, and the only thing I can hear is my haggard breathing and the rush of blood past my ears. My limbs are suddenly too heavy to move, every fiber of muscle in my body satiated and radiating heat like I’ve had a good, thorough workout.

Miles rises, lifts off his shirt, and slips out of his pants as he retrieves a condom from the bedside table. He returns to me, practically glowing in the golden lights streaming in through the window. There’s something magical about it all. The crisp Parisian air combined with the darkening sky above us.

He kisses me slowly, wraps his arms around me as he presses into me, finally allowing to lose all sense of self as we become one. I admire his hard muscles beneath taut skin, and I can hardly believe my eyes that this gorgeous man is once again pushing me closer and closer to the edge. It doesn’t matter if a minute goes by, or if an entire day does. As long as I’m here with Miles, nothing else matters.

We make love until the quiet hours of the morning, falling asleep to the glimmer of lights just outside our window.