Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Even so. I need to know where you are.”
“Fine,” he said, producing a map to show him his projected course, with them ending up somewhere near Iris’s favorite sandbar.
He’d been too excited about the outing to pay much attention to his campaign manager.
And he wouldn’t know what was coming until it was too late.
To protect Iris.
To protect the delicate bond growing between them.
26
Iris
“What’s this?” Iris asked.
She’d opened the door to find Arden standing there, practically bouncing on his feet, a gift bag held up high near his chest.
“Orders from your fiancé.”
“Orders? For what? I thought we didn’t have any campaign stuff to do today.”
She had her heart set on going to a neat little fae pop-up market where they were selling all sorts of neat trinkets and jewelry.
“No campaign stuff,” Arden assured her, moving into the penthouse. “But plans regardless. Open. The anticipation is killing me.”
“Is it shiny?” she asked, reaching inside the bag.
“Unfortunately, no. But I promise you’ll like it better than a piece of jewelry.”
She was dubious about that.
“More clothes?” she asked when her hand met fabric. “How many pieces of clothing does one woman need?”
“All of them, preferably,” Arden said, making her snort.
“What in the tides …”
Iris drew out a filmy, long white piece of linen.
“Oh, darling,” Arden sighed. He shook his head and took the fabric from her to lift it right side up to reveal …
“Is that a bathing suit cover-up?”
There wasn’t much to it.
It was nearly see-through, with a large slit all the way up the front and one pearly clasp right between the breasts.
“Indeed.”
“Is there a bathing suit?”
“There’s … these.” Arden pulled out a pair of barely there white panties.
“That’s it?”
“Well, there’s also these.” Arden pulled out two green-tinted seashell … stickers?
“What are those?”
“Boob stickers.”
“Boob stickers? I, uh, didn’t realize that’s an area that requires accessorizing.”
“They’re more for modesty. Kind of like your seashell bra. These are specially made for mermaids. They’re very water-resistant. Plus, they match your tail.”
“Oh, all right. So … is there some sort of beach-themed event going on?”
“Actually, that delicious man of yours is taking you on a date.”
“A date? Really?” She was a little embarrassed at how excited she was at the prospect.
“He planned it all himself. And it is good.” Arden pressed a hand to his heart, swooning a bit. “But I’m not ruining the surprise.”
“Please don’t. So, when do I need to be ready?”
Arden checked his watch—with its little hands tipped in pink hearts. “In about half an hour.”
“Wait, really?”
“Finn told Henry he needed the whole day off to woo his lovely bride-to-be. Though, I must say, you seem thoroughly wooed already. Is that a post-coital glow you have going on?”
She doubted it. But the second he said it, her flush betrayed her.
“Was it as good as I imagine it is?”
“Better.”
Arden fanned himself. “Better? You’re lucky I’m not the jealous type. Except that I am. Viciously so.” He paused, squinting at her. “Did you cause the tide to rise with your pleasure? I felt something shift. I assumed it was indigestion. But now—”
“You’re being—”
“Did he whisper sweet nothings? Or, better yet, filthy somethings?”
She opened her mouth.
“Wait, don’t tell me. There was intense eye contact and handholding while the universe rearranged itself around your shared emotional climax.”
Iris let out a little laugh. “Let’s not get carried away.”
“Carried away? Darling, I have been waiting for this moment since you met. I am half-tempted to book a skywriting witch to spell out ‘Congrats on the orgasms.’”
“Please don’t.”
“Don’t deny me this. I love love. Passion is my passion. Look at you,” he said, sucking in a dramatic breath and sighing it out. “Positively phosphorescent. I bet a pod of dolphins applauded at the end.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Excuse me. I am invested. There’s a difference.” His gaze softened. “Don’t try to act like this isn’t the best thing that has happened to this whole situation. You’re glowing, the groom is allegedly competent in bed, and I get the satisfaction of knowing I was right.”
“I think Selene might disagree about it being the best turn of events.”
“Oh, please. Selene is a simp for when the enemies become lovers. She keeps a stash of annotated paperbacks inside a storage closet labeled ‘Plague Fungus Studies.’”
“How do you know that?”
“Gerty the ghost may or may not have let it slip. With a heavy amount of judgment for the numerous explicit scenes where things go inside other things and everyone involved is having a wild time.”
Iris snorted. “Sounds like Gerty needs a hobby.”
“She does. She is silently judging us.” Arden flicked imaginary lint off his sleeve. “Anyway, Selene isn’t a love-hater. She’s scared. That real-life heroes don’t exist. That they won’t get to know her coffee order or remember her birthday. That they can’t make her clutch the sheets and damn near crack their skull with her thighs as they go down on her. And, perhaps most of all, she’s terrified that happily-ever-afters in real life aren’t possible. Someday, someone will show her that her romance novels are inspired by real life, not pure fiction.”