Page 45 of Dragon Prince of New York

“Did you talk to them?” Finley’s eager words veil her hurt. “Is she… alright? Did she have the baby?”

I sigh. Jeslyn really needs to get out of her baby bubble and call her sister. “I haven't heard much, but yes. She had the baby, and she's fine." There's relief in Finley's expression but also pain, and it makes my heart ache. "I should have told you sooner, but I was a little distracted." I smirk at her, hoping to lighten the mood.

She hesitates, but smiles back and goes upstairs to change. I’m sure she’ll try calling Jeslyn, too. Hopefully, her sister will answer. If not, I have every intention of thoroughly distracting Finley from her worry and hurt.

“So… we’re good?” Damian asks.

“Yes.” I clamp a hand on his shoulder. “But I need your help with something.”

There’s still one more thing to do to ease Finley’s remaining hesitation. She said she doesn’t want a relationship in the shadows, so I’m going to put the spotlight right where it should be. On her. And me. Together.

Chapter 25

Finley

“I’ve never been toa ballet before,” I confess as Cyrus helps me out of the car. “I’ve always wanted to see one.”

“I’m glad I get to introduce you to it. Next time, we’ll come at night and properly dress up.” His eyes flicker with fire as his gaze takes me in. “Although I definitely enjoy this dress on you.”

It’s a floral maxi dress that isn’t particularly risque apart from being backless. Thin spaghetti straps hold the dress up while the front flows loosely and the back dips almost to my tailbone. His palm comes to the small of my back, skin warming skin, as he directs me inside, upstairs, and into a private box overlooking the right side of the stage.

We barely sit down before the lights dim, and the show starts. A lone ballerina flits across the stage on her toes, beautiful andsingular. A man joins her, circling with long, elegant strides, making tighter and tighter spirals around her.

I lean forward, resting my forearms on the edge of the balcony, needing a closer look as the ballerina finally takes notice of him.

Cyrus brushes his fingertips across my bare back. Distracting devil. He’s leaning back, arms draped over the chairs on either side of him. A prince, eyeing his subjects, eyeingme. His touch dances up and down my spine, making me shiver. I bite my lip, unable to tear my gaze away from the hungry look in his eyes.

“Watch.” He mouths the word, gesturing at the stage with his chin.

Heart pounding, I do as he says. The ballerina is now dancing with the man, their bodies moving in stunning harmony. Every move is elegant. Every touch lingers.

Cyrus’s fingertips skate the back of my dress, from the strap at one shoulder, down, and up to the strap at the other. I shiver, goosebumps sprinkling my skin as my nipples tighten.

When the woman leaps, the man lifts her over his head, and Cyrus’s palm slips inside my dress at the side. He doesn’t go far, fingers barely brushing my breast. I arch my back, needing him to touch me more.

“Still no bra?” he quips.

“I can’t wear one with this dress.”

“I like this dress more and more.” He chuckles low and deep in my ear, his hand returning to my back.

“Tease.”

He hums and pinches my side. I laugh and smack his arm.

“Just for that, I am going to tease you the whole show,” he says in response.

I turn to protest, but his hand takes hold of the back of my skull and directs me to look at the stage. “Watch the show, little flame. I wouldn’t want you to miss your first ballet.”

“Then stop touching me so I can pay attention.”

“Get used to paying attention to two things at once, because I’m never going to stop touching you again.”

I swallow as his lips skim down my neck to my shoulder. “Now, be a good girl and keep your eyes on the dancers.”

The dance becomes more fervent as the music speeds up, but Cyrus’s touches are slow and calculating. A complete contrast to what’s playing out on the stage in front of me. He lightly rubs my back, dipping now and then below the fabric of my dress, but never going far. He massages my neck andruns his fingers through my hair.

A little moan hums through me. “That feels good.”

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