15. Ciaran

15

CIARAN

I was hyper aware of my state of undress once I entered Matthias's walk-in closet. I stared, marveling at all the clothing I saw there—casual attire, swim and surf gear, suits of every style and color, a hundred pair of shoes, and all sorts of accessories, like belts, ties and bow ties, cuff links, and trays upon trays of watches.

There was even a door in the rear, the kind with a bank vault opening device. Of all the valuables out in the open, I couldn't imagine what needed to be secured behind a safe.

Swim trophies? Stacks of money? Pirate's treasure? Nuclear codes?

I was about to make a sarcastic joke, but when I turned to face him, I caught him removing his wetsuit and hanging it over a hook.

My brain severed its connection to my lungs because I forgot how to breathe.

I hadn't given thought to what he'd wear beneath it—okay, that was a lie, I very much did wonder—but I didn't think it would be nothing .

He wore nothing beneath the wetsuit.

Was I getting lightheaded or was the room spinning all on its own?

Matthias threw on a pair of shorts before I saw much of anything.

Powerful legs. Sculpted pecs with a smattering of light brown chest hair. Chiseled abs.

A bit of butt cheek. Shaved pubic area.

I turned quickly but I noticed the grin forming on his face.

Every square inch of me felt hot.

"The fabric will chafe if worn for too long," Matty explained.

"No doubt," I quipped quickly. I had no clue what I was even saying.

I heard a chuckle. Matthias was enjoying making me uncomfortable.

Was he one of those voyeuristic homophobes who liked teasing out the interest of someone, only to beat the shit out of them later on?

Best to keep my distance.

"Blue, black, or charcoal?" Matthias asked.

"What?" I finally turned around to face him.

"Suit color? Do you have a preference?"

I stared at him a long while. I kept my eyes on his face since he hadn't bothered to put on a shirt. Not that I could blame him. I was shirtless, too.

But I wasn't standing in my own closet. I couldn't just grab a shirt and throw it over my head.

"What color suit will you wear?" I asked.

He pulled out a royal blue suit from the back of the row of suits. "I'll pair it with a crisp white French shirt, a matching bow tie, silver cufflinks, and my alligator shoes."

"Seems really formal. Are those my only choices?"

Matthias shrugged.

I scanned his closet. My eyes were drawn to a crimson velvet jacket. I retrieved it, along with a silk black button up shirt, tailored black pants, and a satin belt.

"Daring," he said in a tone that suggested he didn't think I knew anything about fashion.

"I may not own a wardrobe full of couture attire, but I grew up in Vegas, not some backwater town, Matthias."

"I stand corrected. Have at it." He checked the time. "We need to be in the grand ballroom in an hour. I'll let you have first shot at the shower."

"Magnanimous of you, Prince Matthias. I promise not to use all the hot water."

"Ah, but I didn't think you made promises." I narrowed my eyes at him but he just laughed at me. "Hurry or we'll be late. My father's manservant is much more cruel than mine."

My mouth twitched but I left before I'd give him the satisfaction of letting him see me smile.