Page 58 of How to Date a Prince

“Right,” he gasps. “I mean, do you want to go out or…”

“Greedy boy,” I tease, skimming my hands over his shoulders. There’s a lightness in the core of me. “Of course we’re headed out. Are you ready?”

“Ready. If a bit distracted.”

“Perfect. Let’s go.”

He orders up a car, and we head back downstairs. Thomas leans his chin on my shoulder in the lift. And I grin at him. He now has a hat of his own and a jacket and sunglasses, jaw shadowed with stubble.

In the back of the car, I offer him a flask of vodka from my jacket. He looks at me in surprise. “Pre-drinking,” I explain, “if you want. Generally, avoiding the bar is good. Less notice. In the uni days, it used to be cheaper.”

“I would’ve thought you had a stipend for hedonism.” Thomas traces my arm.

“A fixed budget, I assure you.” I lean into him, savoring his closeness far away from the prying eyes of the show.

“Where are we going, anyway?”

“The Odyssey. Dancing. Like you need to ask. I’ve made reservations.”

Thomas laughs, bobbing his head. He takes the vodka and drinks it before passing it back.

“I hope you have your ID,” I say. “Jesse.”

“Whatever, Dave.”

“I had some new ID made. See?” I pull out my driver’s license to show him. “Dave Downing.”

“Is that some kind of niche political joke?” Thomas asks, linking his fingers with mine. His eyes sparkle.

“Combo, actually. Thought I might make it official, after that first night.”

The car pulls up to the curb in front of the gay club. We share a lingering kiss that melts me to my core before we finally emerge. After we breeze through the entry without any issue, we check in our jackets and hit the dance floor.

“God,” says Thomas admiringly as I pull him tight and we move together. “You didn’t tell me you were a shit hot dancer.”

“You never asked. As your liege and God.”

“Does your adoring public even know?”

“They have no fucking idea. Besides, I need to do something in my room aside from wanking.”

Thomas laughs, a magical sound. Already, this is one of the best nights I’ve had in a very long time, beneath the dazzle of the mirror balls and the shifting colored lights. The dance floor is hopping, the DJ whipping everyone up to a frenzy.

Then we’re dancing too hard to keep up any conversation, real or faux. I close my eyes, arms over my head, lost in the music. Thomas grinds behind me, rubbing a firm promise for later, and I can’t stop smiling. I don’t want to stop smiling. I haven’t smiled like this in ages.

Even if it’s for pretend.

Right now, I’m all for getting down. I turn and slide my arms around Thomas’s neck, and he grasps my arse with both hands.

So I spin him and spin him, and we’re in some kind of dream. We dance till finally, I’m breathless and Thomas is ready for a break. So we hit the VIP tables and have a booth to ourselves at the back.

Where we’re snogging till oblivion, my hand down Thomas’ jeans, freeing him. And I work him and work him till he’s desperate. He bites my shoulder. “God, Auggie.”

“Name.”

So, with a look around, no one pays us any heed. Without further delay, I bend down and take his hardening cock in my mouth. His fingers are tight in my hair, and he’s groaning.

“Noisy,” I tell him, “You’ll need to be quiet.”

---