Page 127 of Scandalous Park Avenue Prince

“Okay, I didn’t just run into Travis looking like this.”

Preston’s lips twitched. “Are you lying to me?”

“No.” I pushed off the door and walked over to the bed. “I wasn’t holding this bottle of vodka when I ran into him.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Preston flopped to his back. “Travis is?—”

“Not my type.” I put the bottle and glass down on the bedside table and reached for my zipper. Preston turned his head on the pillow and bit down into his lip.

“No?”

“Nope.” I hooked my thumbs into the edge of the material and shoved it free of my hips, and as my pants fell to the floor, Preston eyed my erection.

“Then what is your type?”

I put a knee on the mattress and moved onto the bed, reaching out to finger the sheets by his waist. A second later, I whipped them off his body out of my way, so I could get a full look at what was mine.

“My type?” I said. Preston’s pretty cock hardened under my attentive gaze. “A gorgeous, preppy good boy who makes my heart pound as hard as my dick.”

Preston dragged his teeth across his lower lip as I shifted over the top of him. “Wanna knowmytype?”

I chuckled and placed a hand on either side of his head, as I lowered myself between his thighs. “I don’t know, do I?”

He nodded, winding his legs over the back of mine. “He’s smart, handsome, and has these sexy creases by his eyes because of how much he smiles. He’s the type of man I know will give me those same marks of happiness in, like”— the teasing flirt winked at me and grinned—“ten years?”

I snorted. “That’s supposed to make me feel good about myself?”

“That I plan to be with you in ten years? Damn right.” Preston craned up to take my lips in a hard, fast kiss. I swept my tongue around the sweet interior of his mouth, eliciting a low moan, and he arched off the bed and rubbed that tight, lithe body against mine. I rolled to the side and pulled him on top of me.

Preston followed, like we’d be doing this for years, and when he put his hands to my chest and sat up on my lap, I could hardly believe that he was mine.

“Damn, you’re something to look at.”

He ran his hands up my chest, twirling his fingers through the short hair there. “Look as long as you like. I’m yours.”

My stomach fluttered at his words. I wanted them to be true. But I wasn’t some young, naïve kid. I knew emotions could get out of hand fast in the heat of the moment, and I needed to know that Preston understood what he was saying. That he understood what I wanted from him.

I smoothed my palms up his thighs, massaging the strong muscle as I locked eyes with him. “You know what that means to me, right? I don’t want to hide anymore, Preston. This weekend was?—”

“Horrible.” He blinked at me and nodded. “I know. For so long I’ve gone along with my parents’ ridiculous plan. I’ve followed the path they set out for me and not bothered to ever stray too far off it. I never had a reason to—until you.”

My heart broke for the sadness in his voice. I understood how hard it must’ve been to keep this part of himself a secret for so long. But knowing he was finally ready to set himself free, that he was willing to give himself—and us—a chance to really explore what we’d found with each other, made me happy.

“Watching you with someone else tonight…” He winced. “It was… I hated it. I never thought I was the jealous type, but all I wanted to do was stand on one of those fancy-ass tables and tell everyone that you were mine.” He gave a self-deprecating smile. “Pretty immature, huh?”

“Uh, no. That’s pretty hot, actually. I probably would’ve hauled you out of the ballroom over my shoulder.”

Preston’s mouth fell open. “Really? I mean, we could always role-play it later today. The tables are still there.”

I was almost tempted to take him up on the offer, but unfortunately I’d been the one to arrange the cleanup crew, and I knew they were coming early this morning.

“Preston, what we’re talking about here? Us, going public? That’s not going to be easy.”

“I know, and my parents are probably going to?—”

“Hunt me down with a shotgun?”

“I was going to say threaten or blackmail you, but you’re right, a shotgun is probably more likely.”

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