"Yeah, the press." Camden rolled his eyes, making his derision for the whole thing rather obvious. "They're still calling you the Irish Prince."
"That's your fault, isn't it? Once they made you a prince, it was only a matter of time before they started giving the rest of us silly nicknames." With a grin, he drawled in the voice of his family's homeland, "But a bit of the magic of the old country isn't a bad thing, is it, lad?" He winked at Camden, who outright laughed at him.
A hand slipped around his arm. "Have I mentioned lately what it does to me when you speak with that accent?"
He turned away from Camden, backing his love up until they were in a somewhat private corner. Grinning down at her, he softened his voice before whispering, "I'll take you to the emerald hills of my homeland, show you the sun setting over the ruins of a castle, and then sit with you in my arms by a bog fire to warm your tender flesh."
Chelsea visibly shivered, her eyes going a bit glazed in what he recognized as her desire. "Dude, not in a ballroom. You have terrible timing." Although she scolded him, she went on tiptoes to kiss his chin.
"It isn't terrible timing. It is all the time. I never stop wanting you." He took her lips, delving his fingertips into her hair where he could feel the promise of her warmth. Their tongues tangled, and he was pleased when he left her just a little breathless.
With just a kiss, after all this time.
"Pause," she whispered. It was their code now, for when they stopped being what the world needed them to be and when they wanted to become what they only were when they were together. "What do you say we ditch this party? I'll teach you a new game … "
He couldn't disagree with her proposition, as games with his assistant happened to be his very favorite way to pass the time.
Dragging his fingers through her hair, he cupped the back of her head and kissed her again, not caring who saw. He saw the flashes past his closed eyelids but didn't care what the world thought of his actions. After all, the press could say whatever they wanted about them …
The woman who was the voice in his ear, in his heart, and who spoke to his body was in his arms. He'd found the woman he'd turn to if things went swirly. Somehow, that made the rest not matter so much. For her, he'd be the knight … the caveman …
Even an Irish Prince.
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