Page 76 of Dangerous King
So I'm left with my thoughts. My swirling, fluttery, all-consuming thoughts. And every time I close my eyes, I feel his mouth on my throat. His fingers on my skin. His voice in my ear.Come on my fingers, Piccolina.
My breath catches just remembering it.
Whatever this is between us… it's bigger than I expected. Bigger than I'm ready for. But I don't want to run. Not this time. Not from him.
I just wish I knew where it was going. If he's feeling even half of what I am.
Because if he is?
God help me… I'm already his.
A knock on the doorframe startles me from the spiral of my thoughts. I jerk upright, and my heart leaps into my throat. Enrico stands there, casually leaning against the wood, arms crossed, wearing that same expression that always undoes me, cool control overlaid with heat. His dark eyes sweep over me once, slow and deliberate, making me quiver all over.
"How long have you been standing there?" I manage to utter breathily.
"Long enough," he replies, his lips twitching with amusement. "You always get that dazed when you're thinking about me?"
My cheeks flush so fast it's a wonder I don't combust. "I—what—I wasn't?—"
He pushes off the frame and stalks toward me, every step sure, powerful, predatory. I feel suddenly very small, very warm, and very much like prey.
"I was downstairs," he says, voice low and rich. "Trying to be good. Give you space."
He stops just in front of me, lifts his hand, and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger. "But you looked so pretty at breakfast, and I couldn't stop thinking about you. So I came to find you, to collect."
"Collect what?" I whisper, even though I already know the answer.
He smiles, dark and sure. "That kiss I've been thinking about all day."
And just like that, I'm breathless all over again.
His lips brush mine tenderly, yet somehow utterly possessive, liquifying my insides and melting me into the chair I'm sitting on. His hand is still on my jaw, his body so close I can feel the heat of him through every layer. He's not moving, and neither am I. The air between us is thick with tension—sweet and heavy—until a soft knock startles me back into my skin.
"Oh, here you are." Eliza's voice is breezy, amused, and far too knowing. "I've been looking for you, Cat."
She walks in like she owns the room—because, let's be real, she does—and heads straight for Enrico. "I haven't seen you all day," she scolds lightly, brushing a kiss against his cheek.
Enrico steps back, and his smirk is smug as hell. My entire body is on fire. Blushing doesn't even begin to cover it—I feel scorched. I glance at him, silently pleading for backup, but he just lifts one shoulder like:You're on your own, Piccolina.
"I was wondering," Eliza says, turning back to me like she didn't just walk in on a moment hotter than the sun, "if you could help me put an outfit together? I've got that charity ball this weekend, and if I wear one more pale blue Valentino, I might scream."
"Of course," I manage, my voice somehow functional. "I'd love to."
I follow her from the room, still feeling the imprint of Enrico's body against mine, still tasting his kiss on my lips, and wondering just how much Eliza saw. And why he lookedso damn pleasedabout it.
Eliza's dressing room is bigger than a bedroom—every surface gleams, from the gold-accented vanity to the mirrored walls lined with endless racks of couture.
I follow her in, still slightly in awe, even after spending the last few days wrapped in silks and cashmere I never dreamed I'd touch, much less wear.
"So, this charity ball this weekend," Eliza says, already flipping through hangers with practiced ease. "I'm expected to show up looking like I haven't aged in fifteen years. God forbid they realize I'm human."
"You look amazing," I reply honestly. "But I can help. That navy Marchesa would be stunning with your skin tone. Or—" I step forward, touching the sleeve of a soft champagne Elie Saab gown "—this. With your hair in that updo you wore at dinner last night?"
She pauses, tilting her head at the gown. "Hmm. You're right. That would be striking. You've got an eye for this, Cat."
I shrug, shy but pleased. "I've always loved fashion. I just never had the clothes to experiment with it the way I would have liked to."
She smiles at me in the mirror. A smile that warms my heart. "You've got the instinct. That's harder to learn. And now you have the resources to make your dreams come true too."
