Page 18 of The Princess and the SEAL

Chapter 7

Ryan

THE NEXT MORNING, I WOKE WITH my arms wrapped around Giselle. My balls were in a world of hurt, but even so, spending the night with her had been worth it. Man, she was beautiful. Her long blonde hair fanned out over the pillow, making her look even more angelic.

I hopped out of bed and hit the head, hoping not to wake her. I resisted the urge to jump in the shower and jerk off. I’d never had a girlfriend and had rarely spent the night with a woman. I didn’t even know what to do “the morning after” but bounce.

I wasn’t willing to let her go today, despite telling her I would take her to her hotel. But it wasn’t just because I wanted to fuck her. She intrigued me. When would I ever get another chance to escort a princess around France? What was the harm? It was only for a week, then she would run off and get married, and I would be nothing more than a distant memory of the time she went slumming with an American.

I emerged from the bathroom, and she was still asleep. I checked my email on my phone but found nothing important. I also scanned the news to make sure I wasn’t a wanted man for kidnapping a princess, but luckily, I didn’t find any articles about her, so I threw on my clothes and left the room.

The innkeeper waved at me, motioned me to wait, disappeared into the kitchen, and returned carrying a tray of food.

“Breakfast in bed for the newlyweds.”

I took the tray from her. “Thank you.”

I went back to the room. Giselle had woken up and was standing at the window. I heard birds chirping outside and smelled flowers instead of my usual alarm of gunfire and smoke. I couldn’t help but think how different this moment was from my day-to-day life. How nice it was. How normal.

She flashed a wide smile. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

“Best sleep I’ve had in almost a year.” I placed the tray on the bed, and she climbed back in with me. I pressed the coffee and poured her a cup, then served us both croissants. Mine tasted delicious, flaky, and buttery. I ate a few berries, tried some yogurt, which tasted way better than the kinds I’d had back in the States, and finally dug into my cheese-filled ham omelet.

Giselle daintily nibbled on some berries. “So, what do you plan to do today?”

You.

“Hadn’t thought about it. Just going to walk through town, check out the shops, maybe mingle with the locals.”

“That sounds fun. Bayeux is a splendid town. It’s less touristy than in my country. I always imagined that it would be nice to have a summer cottage here.”

Wow. It must be nice to just be able to buy property wherever you want. I considered a smartass, sarcastic response, but held back.

“Summer cottage? My goal is to afford one home, not two, and on my salary, that will be a long shot, especially if I stay in San Diego. It’s very expensive there.”

A flush crept across her cheeks. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I hope you don’t think I’m bragging. Forgive me. Do you like San Diego?”

“Love it. Miles of beaches, military city, laid-back vibe. I would never consider living anywhere else.”

“It sounds lovely. I’ve always wanted to visit. I’ve been to New York but never made it out to the West Coast. Maybe you could show me around San Diego one day.”

I glared at her. “With your new husband?”

She shook her head. “No. I will still travel alone on occasion.”

Probably without security, too. She just didn’t get it. This—she and I—had a looming expiration date. I would never mess around with someone else’s wife. Especially a royal.

“Well, based on what happened between us last night, I don’t think that would be a good idea. You’re like crack candy to me; I’ll always want you. I’m in the military, honey. I don’t want to be charged with adultery, especially with a princess. It would create an international incident. I can see the headlines now. ‘The Princess and The SEAL: How a Summer Love Affair Turned into a Royal Scandal.’ My commanding officer would be on my ass, and it would ruin my career. And your reputation.”

Her lower lip trembled. I decided to throw in a glimmer of hope.

“Of course, if you don’t marry him, I’d love to show you a good time.”

Her voice weakened. “Oh, I’m getting married. Definitely. I’m so silly. Of course you wouldn’t want to see me again. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It just doesn’t seem real to me yet. I’m sure I’ll adapt.”

The fact that she was describing getting married as “adapting” was heartbreaking. Well, it was her life. But she deserved more than a loveless marriage.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t want to see you again. I said I couldn’t see you again. There is a difference.”