Fake Dating the Prince by Ashlyn Kane

Author:Ashlyn Kane [Kane, Ashlyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-64405-442-0
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2019-06-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

BRAYDEN woke to the distant sound of running water. He stretched and opened his eyes, but with no light spilling from behind the heavy drapes, he couldn’t guess the time. His body told him to keep sleeping, even if Flip wasn’t, but he was overheating. In search of cooler sheets, he rolled into the middle of the bed and kicked the coverlet down. Perfect. Oblivion claimed him again.

The next time he opened his eyes, Flip was walking past from the bathroom, wearing only those ancient flannel pajama bottoms that clung to Flip’s ass and hips—and nicely framed his cock, which Brayden discovered when Flip turned thirty degrees to grab something from the wardrobe. It wasn’t Brayden’s fault. The bed was at cock level.

No, Brayden told his own dick, firmly, and closed his eyes, knowing he was blushing and praying Flip didn’t stop to notice he wasn’t sleeping.

Finally he heard the door to the bathroom snick closed and he let out a long breath. It figured Flip would be just as gorgeous shirtless in ratty pj’s as he was in a custom-fit tux. Brayden had better get used to that.

He was halfway back to sleep and getting cold—his shirt had ridden up his back and he was starting to goose-bump—and debating pulling up the covers again when the bathroom door opened again and he lost his chance. Flip’s footsteps fell soft but sure nearly all the way to the door, and then he paused.

Brayden panicked, sure he’d been caught—though why that mattered when Flip was dressed and presumably not sporting morning wood, he couldn’t have said. But he kept breathing as Flip approached the bed, made a soft tsking noise, and twitched the blankets up to Brayden’s shoulders before he left.

Brayden’s heart wanted to have feelings about it, but he fell asleep in self-defense.

When he finally crawled out of bed for good, his phone proclaimed it to be nine, and he quickly showered, dressed in Cedric-approved clothing, and went in search of Flip and/or coffee and/or food, in that order of preference. A note on the dining table informed him Flip had gone off for a rescheduled meeting with someone from the mining company and would likely not return until dinner. But it did give instructions for ordering breakfast, and a carafe of coffee sat waiting for him on the sideboard, so the morning wasn’t a total loss.

Along with the breakfast instructions—which Brayden used to order yogurt, fruit, and scrambled eggs, and felt heinously awkward about—Flip had left a series of contacts Brayden might find interesting. He could call Cedric if he wanted to get started on that etiquette lesson (ha, ha, Brayden thought) or the palace private-tour operator (maybe), and so on.

He called the tour operator first. Her name was Louisa, she was a college student studying international relations, and if she gave a single crap that Brayden was allegedly sleeping with the crown prince, she didn’t show it. She chatted casually with him while she showed him around

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