And this attraction is ridiculous.
We’re from two different countries... Two completely different continents... Two entirely different worlds. No good can come of this.
Rhys Windsor is going to be king one day.
And I’m . . .me.
My father was a fisherman, and my mother was a schoolteacher.
We’re blue collar not blue bloods.
I like my life. I love my job. I can’t imagine anything else.
But this attraction... there’s no denying it’s force, even if I wanted to try.
I gently push at his absurdly muscled thigh with the tips of my toes, attempting to push him off the chair, but my golden god doesn’t budge.
Not mine.
This man belongs to an entire country.
Coconut invades my senses as Rhys cracks open the cap of the sunscreen, pulling me back from my spiraling thoughts.
This is why I’m better with my head in a book.
“How are you feeling, love?” He squeezes a fat dollop of lotion into his hand and motions for me to turn around.
“Bossy much?” I glare but turn my back to him and lift my hair anyway. “What if I already have sunscreen on?”
“Do you?” Can a voice drip with sex?
And seriously, why does that accent have to sound so sexy on him?
“That’s not the point,” I pout.
Fantastic. Now I’m acting like the two-year-old.
Rhys rubs his big hands over both my shoulders, and I feel his toucheverywhere. My God, that feels good. Too good.
Somehow, I resist the urge to moan and close my eyes and drop my chin to my chest instead as I silently melt under his touch.
He leans forward, his lips skimming my ear. “Well, now you do, love.”
Holy shit, I think I could come from his voice alone.
Even worse, I might want to try that.
I press my thighs together and bite down on my lip.
That isn’t an option.
Rhys Windsor is not an option.
“Aunt B,” Jake calls out as little feet pound their way up the beach, soft sand flying in every direction. Water drips from his hair down his face as he comes to a stop, nearly tumbling over until Rhys steadies him.
“Whoa there, lad. Let’s make sure you don’t get a face full of sand.” He sends a wink Jake’s way, and my nephew squirms in his hold until he’s steady on his feet again.
“Will you come play with me, Aunt B?”
