Page 96 of Underground Prince

Yikes. At the familiar voice I didn’t want to look up.

“Theo.” I drew out his name, unsure of my position, his mood, why I could never hold my liquor around him. Literally. I hoped most droplets fell onto the carpet instead of my rental dress.

“I had no idea you’d be here,” he said in his usual dour undertone.

“Me, neither.” I swung a thumb over to Kai, still obliviously talking to the friend. “Kai invited me yesterday.”

Theo responded with an arched brow, his preferred method of communication, and arguably better than my choices. “Well. Welcome,” he said.

Those lips. I was so busy watching how they curved over the letter “W” that I almost missed how his gaze raked over me, taking in every part before coming to rest on the shine of champagne on my collarbone.

I hoped he longed to lick it off just as much as I desired his tongue on my skin.

“Are you sure about that?” I asked, my unstated reminder of our last meeting thick against my question.

My breasts tingled under his gaze, discreet arousal that continued to bloom across my body, causing twinges in all the right places and heat in all the wrong.

Theo pulled a pocket square out of his tuxedo, handing it to me.

“Care for some fresh air?” he asked. It wasn’t directed to my face. As I was dabbing my chest, my fingers zinged with the knowledge that every stroke was being noticed, every touch of his silk against my skin.

“Yes.” My bodice had become tight, suffocating.

I took his arm, glancing over at Kai to let him know where I was going, but he didn’t seem too concerned. He winked as I left, his mouth still moving as he continued his enlistment.

Theo led us through the crowd and to a side exit, nodding at those he knew and even gifting a full smile to a few. I didn’t know he could do that.

Guests were also taking note of me, the curious new girl on his arm, but I avoided their attention, instead choosing to focus on Theo’s profile, the carved line of his jaw, peppered with a day’s growth of stubble, the ridge of his dark toffee brows that framed eyes nearly the same color, except for the embers nestling there, nurturing flame.

He sensed the study, glancing sideways. Caught, I looked straight ahead, pretending intense interest in where we were going.

Did we fight? Were we on shaky ground? I didn’t remember anymore. Didn’t care. He gripped my hand, and led me more urgently to an exit, any exit.

Mutterings abounded as we retreated, and for reasons unknown, my head lifted up, scanning the crowd, and I latched on to the shimmer of attention I’d felt as soon as Theo greeted me. A type of scrutiny that my subconscious picked up but my mind prevented entry. Until now.

Gordon Saxon was easy to spot, his icepick eyes steady on mine as Theo pulled me across the floor. A woman was next to him, a cool blonde in her fifties, and I didn’t escape her notice, either.

The person they were talking to before ceasing their conversation also turned, and frighteningly familiar butterscotch brown eyes stared back at me. I stumbled.

Trace.

Sufficiently freaked out, I clung to Theo until—at last—we made it to the elevators and went to the top floor.

My hand clutching his, he led me into a suite. There was no time for the exploration of such an exclusive room (I did want to know what was in the mini bar), because he headed straight to the balcony doors, sweeping them open. The balcony was empty, and I basked in it, sighing against the subtle wind. Cars thrummed below, with minor whistles and calls of pedestrians.

Now it was my turn to talk. Maybe I was too direct and assumed too much when it came to him. It was time to be honest again, but with less acerbic bite.

“Theo, I’m sorry for last—”

He spun me so my abdomen was against the railing and he was pressed behind me, all of him fitting to my curves, searing into my skin, melting our clothes. And I felt him, hard against the small of my back, and I groaned, mouth open to the sky as his lips scored against the side of my neck, from my ear to my collarbone, dragging fire.

One of his hands came down, findingme and using his fingers in ways that a fabric barrier shouldn’t be able to allow. His other hand trailed up my body, feather-strokes that were skin against skin despite the lace between. Over my breasts, spreading his fingers, holding me in his hands as he directed my chin up, head back, so his tongue and teeth could access more.

“Theo…” I said again to the stars, though I couldn’t see them. I didn’t want to notice anything but what he ignited.

He didn’t have to direct my lips to his. He didn’t have to take my clothes off, or have me facing him, to make me come. All he needed was his fingers, his dance, his breath against the hollow of my neck, short, scattered. I gave myself to him, moving with his hand, arching so he was as deep as he could get despite the lace. Groaning, whispering to the sky, to him, as he said nothing but did everything.

That pleasure, the secret release that starts at the core and butterflies to every limb, an explosion of wings across the body. Pure sex escaped my mouth as he released me, my head falling back onto his shoulder, my body melting into his hands.

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