Page 32 of Gilded Princess

A moan slips from my lips as the decadent taste hits my tastebuds. I let Leo take a bite before I dive in for my second spoonful.

“You’re right. This is delicious.” I groan around another bite of the rich dessert. My eyes flash open when I hear a grunt. My eyes widen when I realize I’d closed them. “Sorry. I can get carried away when it comes to desserts.”

“Remind me to take you to my Aunt Carm’s house. She’s an amazing pastry chef.”

“You must have a big family,” I murmur around another bite.

“You have no idea.” The words are delivered in an even tone, but I swear I see a cloud of something dark flash across his gaze for a moment. When I blink, it’s gone, and he flashes those dangerous dimples at me.

We finish the rest of the dessert in a comfortable silence, and I can’t deny the fluttering butterflies swirling around every time I meet his gaze.

He’s charming and funny, and I can’t wait to tell my sister and Lainey about him. Excitement thrums in my veins in anticipation of the end of the night. He looks like the type of guy who’ll go in for the kill at the end of a date—not in a creepy way, but like back me up against a wall and kiss the daylights out of me way.

After we’re done eating, he waves to a few employees as we make our way outside. Night has fallen, but the temperature stayed. The hot air smothers my hair, instantly frizzing out some of my waves.

Adjusting the strap of my crossbody purse, I look at my date over my shoulder. “I had a lovely time tonight.”

In a move too smooth and yet still charming, he slides his palm against mine, links our fingers together, and brings my hand up to his lips. His breath warms the back of my hand as he places a chaste kiss there.

“Let me walk you to your car.”

My breath hitches like I’m in some historical romance, and that’s the way to express desire. I never realized how erogenous the back of my hand could be.

“I ordered a car. It should be here in a few moments.” My voice is thin, my heart thundering loud in my ears.

He smiles against my hand, flashing those lethal dimples at me. Suddenly, I understand why those women always carried around those paper fans. If I had one right now, I’d be fanning the thing at my face like I’m gunning for a gold medal.

He lowers my hand but doesn’t let go, and I find myself following along with wherever he’s tugging me. We walk a few feet away from the restaurant and over to a big weeping willow tree.

It’s not uncommon to have trees on the sidewalk in this part of the city, but ones this size are. Weeping willows have always been my favorite. My father used to set up picnics underneath one at my grandparents’ house and tell me the stories of the stars.

We duck under the long branches, the leaves a few feet off the ground, providing enough cover for the illusion of privacy.

“What are we doing in here?”

“I wanted to show you something,” he says as he tugs me toward the trunk of the tree. “Here.” He points to something carved in the bark.

Unlinking our fingers, I lean in closer to take a look and trace the letters with the pad of my finger. The indents feel smooth, aged against the rough bark.

Leonardo was here.

“I know, it’s not the most original.” His voice is close enough to stir the hair by my ear, causing a shiver to skate down my spine.

I tilt my head to look over my shoulder at him, bringing our lips closer than I anticipated. The air feels electric, as if static is charging the space between our mouths, gearing up for the moment they collide.

I flick my gaze between his eyes and his lips, involuntarily wetting mine.

“I didn’t realize your name was Leonardo.” My words are whispered into the cocooned space. It’s a half-assed attempt at breaking the tension, and it backfires.

“I like the way my name rolls off your lips.” He cocks his head to the side, and his lips graze mine ever so lightly with his words.

My breath hitches at the contact, and sharp needles of anticipation prick at my nerves. I bite my lip to stop myself from bridging the gap between us and ravaging his lips like some sort of kiss-starved wanton woman.

The truth is I had another man’s hands down my pants a week ago, and here I am, literally panting after someone else.

Rancid tentacles of shame flex, their tips brushing against my lusty haze, threatening to douse it entirely.

But then Leo whispers against my lips, “Say it again.”

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