Page 66 of Prince Charmless
Kisses shouldn’t be as fun when they’re done unintentionally.No need to get worked up, Melina.
“Yeah,” he says, looking too calm and collected for having just turned my insides to goop. “Why? Are you?”
I nod.
His eyes dart between mine. We’re still so close. His hand is still on my waist. Mine is still on his chest.
“I probably shouldn’t have done that,” he says.
I force a laugh. “I don’t think anyone will give a shit about Tom tomorrow.”
You could kiss him again. You could just lean up and do it right now.
He puts his fingers to his lips like he’s just realized what he’s done. “I’m sorry. Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
Realization sets into me too. The more I examine his face, the more I understand the trouble I’ll be in. This man is the Prince. The fucking Prince of St. Claire.
“I was fine with letting people speculate, but that photo won’t be just speculation, it’ll be proof. It’ll be everywhere.”
He tilts his head to the sky like he’s about to communicate with God. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. I knew I couldn’t help myself.”
He knew it? Like while sober? I shouldn’t have given him my panties. They were too effective. I must’ve underestimated the amount of feelings he has and the extent to which I could toy with them.
Taylor slides his hand across my waist but doesn’t let go. I don’t think he wants to. I don’t want him to either. As we gaze into each other’s eyes, I wonder if we’re thinking the same thing.
And for once in my life, spontaneity courses through my veins. I don’t think of consequences or good judgment. I just want him on me again.
I bring my hand up to his neck and pull him closer. Though it doesn’t take much pulling because as soon as I touch skin, his lips connect with mine. We sink in this time, not just a stage kiss for show, but a real kiss for us. One that’s raw, messy, and fast. Taylor kisses less like a prince and more like a pirate. He plunders into me, taking what he wants, soon leaving me a mess. We stumble over our feet until my back reaches the railing. I clutch onto his shirt. His hand dives into my hair. It feels like we’ve been waiting to let our guards down for a hundred years. I grab the only breath of air I can before our noses switch sides. Eventually, we transition from long drags to shorter pecks.
“What are we doing?” I rasp in between them.
“Doing what drunk friends do, right?”
He tries to kiss me again. I avoid it.
“Can you call your driver to take me home?”
I look down as if to see my spontaneity puddled at our feet. So much for treading carefully. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid, enjoying a forbidden kiss too much for my own good. A forbidden kiss I’ll be reminiscing about when I’m trying to fall asleep, daydreaming about when I should be working, and worst of all, wanting more of.
My heart aches to see Taylor’s brow furrow, but “There’s no point in me being here anymore.” I’ve been enough of a distraction tonight.
As I scurry down the stairs, I half expect him to call my name, but he doesn’t. Whatever. I have to get out of here.
21
Taylor
“The fuck did you do, Taylor?”
I know the moment I open my eyes sober Taylor is going to have to deal with drunk Taylor’s issues. I used to do this to myself in university, but back then, the only consequence of getting wasted or high was being late to turn in a paper for Econ 415. I miss how inconsequential my problems were. Maybe if I just keep them closed a little longer...
“I didn’t know how much of a romantic you were, man. This picture is nauseating. The distraction worked, but don’t you think this is a little overboard?”
I throw a pillow in the general vicinity of my brother’s voice. He must’ve flown in this morning.
“Couldn’t you find a janitor’s closet for this? You can’t just go around kissing people in public! What were you thinking?”
Something soft hits my head. He threw it back at me.
