A Bentley was waiting outside, a driver in the front seat.

“Bringing out the big guns tonight.” I threw Rob a teasing smile.

He turned his head, bringing our faces close. Too close. In the light from the restaurant, I could make out the smattering of freckles that dotted his nose and cheeks. See how thick his dirty blond lashes were.

Rob shrugged again. “Borrowed it from Kit. Lad’s got expensive taste.”

And his lips—how had I never noticed how full they were? How kissable? The top one puffed up just the tiniest bit on the sides.

Those lips had been on me. My body. But they’d never touched my lips. From the look of his, he’d be a good kisser. A good, juicy, deliciously yummy kisser.

Philip was passable, but nothing to write home about. Maybe that explained why I was fixating on Rob’s lips like this. I felt like I hadn’t been properly kissed in ages.

I blinked, looking away. I had to stop. Seriously.

“This is not a date,” I repeated.

“Darling, I don’t do dates.” Rob held open the door. “This is just a meeting. A get together, if you will. Doesn’t mean I can’t make it fun.”

I watched out the window as we rolled through London. I had no clue where we were headed. When the car finally pulled up to a dock beside the River Thames, I was more mystified than ever. We were pretty far from any bars or restaurants.

“Rob,” I said slowly, climbing out of the car. “Is this the part of the meeting where you murder me and throw my body in the river?”

He put his hand on the small of my back. I shivered. Let him lead me onto a wide plank ramp that led down to a dock on the river. The water clapped and rushed beneath us, filling the air with the earthy scents of mud and musk.

“This is the part of the meeting where you and I explore London.”

I slowed my steps, the heels of my booties catching on the planks. My heart did a neat little backflip inside my chest. I looked at him.

He looked right back, his eyes glittering in the darkness. “You said you wished you had more time to explore the city. So that’s what I thought we’d do. All while discussing the logistics of the best fucking joint stag-hen party ever thrown, of course.”

I had to stop. But so did Rob.

He had to stop being so excellent. So cute and funny and into wedding stuff the way I was into wedding stuff.

“I only have you for tonight,” he said, continuing to guide me down toward the water. “Which doesn’t give us a lot of time. London is massive, but I still want you to see everything you possibly can. I thought a tour by boat might be just the thing, especially at night.”

We hit the dock. When I looked up, the breath left my lungs. A gorgeous boat—no, this was more like a small yacht—bobbed in a nearby slip. It was all lit up, a jewel floating on the water. The design was classic; it looked almost vintage, with shiny wooden accents and railings. Something the Kennedys would’ve sailed on, save for the Union Jack that fluttered from the stern. Or was it the bow? I was too beside myself to care.

Staff in crisp white uniforms were lowering a ramp onto the dock. One of them waved to Rob; he waved back, greeting the guy by name (Laurence) and asking how his daughter was doing at the university in Leeds.

For several beats, I was too overwhelmed to formulate a coherent thought, much less a sentence.

Finally, I managed this: “How?”

Rob’s lips twitched. “I called in a favor. I may not be the Queen’s favorite grandson, but I’m the only one who served in her navy.”

“Is this…is it the royal yacht or something?”

“The royal yacht was retired twenty years ago,” Rob said, shaking his head. “Too expensive to maintain. But the Queen keeps this little number for private use—she likes to be out on the water. Its crew are navy men and women.”

“Your grandfather was in the navy, too, wasn’t he?”

Rob went still. Like I’d just caught on a wound—on something that hurt—and he was too stunned by the sudden blare of pain to move.

“He was,” Rob replied after a beat. “It’s why I joined up.”

I searched his face. I’d hit a nerve. But before I could decide whether or not I should ask him about it, he was moving again, whisking me on board.

My heart hammered. I was going to explore London. On a yacht. With a prince. In a dress I never thought I’d touch, much less wear.

It was surreal.

I’d never really thought about who Rob was. His public persona, I mean—the guy who was third in line to a thousand-year-old kingdom. Not until we’d been greeted by a hoard of paparazzi and he’d handled it like a pro. But that royal moment was small beans compared to this one. This was ridiculous. Show-offy.

Amazing. And I wasn’t going to ruin it by thinking too much. About why I liked being around Rob more than Philip. About what that meant and how it would come back to hurt me.

I was going to focus on the now—on what I had right here, in this moment. Just like Rob did. What’s the worst that could happen? The lines between us were drawn. I trusted him not to cross them.

I just hoped I could trust myself, too.

* * *

I watched Aly’s expression melt into a disbelieving smile as I led her out onto the rounded deck at the stern. The October night was mild, not too windy or cold. Even better, the sky was clear. The moon was a neon thumbnail. And the stars—they were out in full force.

Aly and I couldn’t not eat outside. So I’d had Laurence set up a table, complete with white tablecloth and a pair of chairs, on the deck. A champagne bucket stood directly beside it. I’d only had half an hour to arrange this, so I’d told the staff to pull out all the stops they could.

I hesitated, even as Aly kept smiling. This looked date-y. Really date-y.

Fuck. Was I giving her the wrong idea?

That hadn’t been my intention. I honestly hadn’t known what I’d been thinking when I’d called her earlier. All I knew was that I couldn’t let Aly just go home after being stood up on a Saturday night. I felt like we were friends now. And friends did not let friends drink alone at bars after their dates stood them up.

We really did have more wedding business to take care of, too. I figured why not take care of it while we had the time? We both had crazy schedules. And yeah, maybe I did want to show up Philip. He may have taken Aly on real dates. He may have been “real deal” material. But he didn’t pay attention to her like I did.

He didn’t put London in the palm of her hand like I would.

Aly knew this was just a meeting. She’d said so twice now. Nothing more than two friends getting together to talk shop. And that was the important part—that it was crystal fucking clear to her what I was trying to do here.

But how I felt? That was secondary. I could figure it out later. Deal with it. As long as she knew where we stood, this was okay.

My eyes trailed up the lithe lines of her legs. Eh…maybe not so okay. She was sexy as hell. I wanted to put my hands up that dress. See if Aly was wearing panties or not. Did she wear something just for Philip? Something lacy that she knew he liked?

My hand curled into a fist on the small of her back. She looked down, brow puckering, before looking back up at me.

“You all right?” she asked.

Not in the slightest. I did not like being jealous. I did not like fantasizing about my friend’s pussy. I couldn’t control it, though.

Couldn’t stop wanting her the way I did. Thinking about her all the time. About the things I’d say to her in my next email. The things I wished I could still do to her body..

I bit the inside of my lip. Nodded at the table. “Shall we?”

The boat was pulling out of the dock. I kept my hand on Aly’s back, steadying her as we began to move. I grabbed the blanket I’d had put out on her chair. Pulled out the chair. She sat, tucking her hair self-consciously behind her ear.

I held up the blanket. “Thought you might be a bit cold in the dress.”

Aly looked at me for a beat. Like she couldn’t decide how to feel about this small kindness.

“Thanks,” she said at last, taking the blanket from me and draping it over her bare knees.

Laurence appeared, pouring each of us a glass of bubbly as he told us what we’d be having for dinner. He set the bottle back in the bucket and disappeared into the galley.

“Four courses.” Aly tipped back her glass, her eyes flashing to meet mine. “Quite the meeting we’re having.”

“It’s my brother’s stag party. Very important business we’ve got to discuss.”

She set her glass down. Pulled her phone from her clutch and opened her notes app. “Great. I’m glad you brought that up. What are you thinking?”

“The Caribbean.” The engine throbbed as we picked up speed. Aly’s hair fluttered in the breeze. She was so bloody beautiful. I leaned back to keep from reaching for her, settling my ankle on the opposite knee. “Kit loves the Bahamas. He’s mentioned how he’d love to bring Emily.”

Aly looked up from her phone. She smiled, biting her bottom lip. “That would seriously be awesome. Extravagant. But awesome. Em is going to love it.”

I smiled back. “That’s the plan.”

She looked at me for another beat. Then she blinked and looked back down at her phone. “I’ve never been, but I can do some research. You think we should do Nassau?”

I nodded. “We can do Nassau. Paradise Island. End up in Miami if you’d like.”

“End there?” Aly looked up from her phone. “How? Are we going to fly to all these places over the weekend?”

“We’ll sail.”

Her brow was puckered again. “Oh. So we’re doing a cruise?”

“Not exactly.” I sipped my champagne. “I’ve got a friend whose boat we can use.”

I didn’t want to tell Aly that my “friend” was an Australian billionaire, and his “boat” was a two-hundred-and-seventy-five foot super yacht. Because that would be bragging. And I did not brag.

It was another favor I was calling in. But I wanted my brother’s stag party to be perfect, and we’d need a lot of privacy for that to happen—privacy only a yacht would afford us. Plus, I knew it would live up to Aly’s high standards for everything related to this wedding. The girl had practically put on a small wedding already for the engagement party. I had big shoes to fill. And I wanted to help out in a way I hadn’t been able to before. I’d be the one putting in the work this time. Aly deserved a break.

Aly let out a scoff of surprised laughter. “Wow. Okay. I’m down for that. What can I do to help?”

“Nothing,” I replied, glancing at the north bank. We’d started out just south of Westminster, and now we were heading west toward Parliament and Big Ben. It was the best route for hitting all the highlights. Highlights I didn’t want Aly to miss because we were talking shop. “I’ve already handled it.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

She was biting her bottom lip again. “What about transportation?”

“Done.”

“Itineraries? Dinner reservations? Snacks? I know you haven’t thought about snacks.”

“All taken care of.”

“But how in the world are we going to pay for this? Not everyone is a prin—”

“Aly.” I uncrossed my leg and leaned my forearms on the table. “I’ve got it handled, all right? The plan, the money. Everything. You’ve already done your fair share of the work. So let me do mine.”

She studied me for a moment. “Can I really trust you with this?”

“You can.” I ducked my head. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s stag parties.”

“That I believe,” she said, taking another sip of champagne. “All right.”

I turned around to grab the champagne bottle so I could refill our glasses. “Brilliant. Meeting adjourned. Now we can get to the fun.”

Aly blinked. “That’s it?”

“Yes. Unless you want to talk about the bikinis you’ll be wearing. Then I will happily extend the meeting portion of our evening.”

“What about you?” Aly held out her glass to me, a playful glimmer in her eye. “Are you a trunks guy? Don’t European guys wear speedos?”

I laughed as I gave her a refill. I settled the bottle back in the bucket, the ice crunching pleasantly. “Definitely no speedos for me. I like to wear trunks. Or nothing at all, depending on who I’m with.”

It was dark, so I couldn’t be sure. But I thought I saw a pink flush creep into Aly’s cheeks. It hit me that neither of us had seen the other completely naked. You didn’t have time or space to strip down when you were hooking up in bathrooms during lunch hour. Our encounters had been all about speed and orgasmic efficiency.

Now I wished I’d taken the time to properly explore her body. I knew how to make her come and shout. Knew her pussy. But beyond that, I didn’t know much. I could kick myself for not learning more when I had the chance. Aly was a beautiful girl. She had a beautiful body.

I’d done everything according to the rules we’d set. Her no talking. My no connecting. So why did I suddenly feel like I’d fucked up?

She surprised me when she said, “You know, I’ve actually never been skinny dipping.”

The scene was there before I could suppress it: Aly in waist-high water on an empty beach. Her bare back was to me. She turned, the sun catching on her eyes as she smiled and said something wicked. Her nipples puckered and perfect. I dove in and I grabbed her and laid her out on the sand. Both of us naked. I folded her leg onto her chest, spreading her wide. Her breath caught when I nudged inside her. No preamble, no words, no condom. Just us and the sun and the sound of the ocean. She was swollen, soft. So fucking soft. Only for me.

She was only ever that soft for me.

A pulse of blood, hot and eager, landed in the tip of my cock, making me blink. The image disappeared. But the need that burned me up from the inside out didn’t.

I cleared my throat. “Look,” I said, pointing. I didn’t want her looking at me. I didn’t want her seeing the need that had to be written all over my face. “Parliament.”