Page 70 of Spearcrest Prince

I see it in the way her eyes linger without shame or embarrassment on my mouth, my neck, my arms. I feel it in the way she leans into me when I give her my arm, her body heat reaching me through our clothes.

Outside the restaurant, I stop and face her, taking her face in my hands. Her cheeks burn against my palms.

“Do you think our parents would want us to kiss now?”

“Why?” she breathes, and then, in the same breath, “Yes.”

“Because that’s what people do when they’re in love,” I say, even though she’s already said yes. I brush a thumb over her lips. They part wetly. “They kiss each other like they’ll die if they don’t.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Anaïs mumbles, closing her eyes. “You better show me.”

I laugh, but the sound comes out broken and hoarse. My throat is tight, my heart is beating too fast. I’m not nervous about kissing—I’ve kissed more girls than I can count—but I’m nervous about kissingher.

I hesitate. Her eyes fly open. She smirks. “Why so shy?”

“I’m not shy.”

Taking my wrists in her hands, she frees her head from my hold and moves to press her mouth to mine. I move back, letting her lips brush against mine but evading the kiss. She looks up. I tilt my head.

“Do you remember when I asked to kiss you, that time in your room?”

“I remember.” She pulls a face. “How could I not? You keep bringing it up.”

“Well, it’s your turn, trésor. Ask me.”

“Why?” she asks, frowning. “I know you want to kiss me.”

“Because.” I take her waist, pulling her closer. “I’m always the one to beg. I want to hear you ask this time. Come on, trésor, ask me. Make it pretty.”

She says nothing for a second, and I wonder if I’ve perhaps gone too far. But then a slow smile blossoms on her pretty lips. Standing on the tips of her toes, she wraps her arms around my neck. She presses her cheek to mine and speaks against my ear.

“Please, Sev. Kiss me. Touch me. Please me. Make me feel so good I come undone.”

I laugh. “Very pretty.”

“I should think so.” She moves away and smiles at me wickedly. “I’m stealing your lines, after all, and you’re an expert.”

I kiss her before she can say anything else because I want to kiss her, and touch her, and please her, and make her feel so good she comes undone. Her mouth falls open under mine, warm and pliant. Our tongues meet, wet and lingering.

I kiss her slow and deep, and my entire body aches with desire. Pulling her closer, I press her body to mine. Her arms wrap around my neck, her fingers burying themselves in my hair. She arches and a sound of pleasure rises from her throat, low and keening.

A discreet cough startles us. We move apart with sharp gasps.

The limo driver gestures politely to the open door. “Excuse me, Mr Montcroix, Miss Nishihara. We should be on our way.”

Anaïs and I exchange a glance. She lets out a sudden burst of laughter and gets inside the limo. I follow her in, and the driver shuts the door behind us.

For a moment, we just sit side by side. A dull rumble and passing lights behind the tinted windows tell us that the limo is in motion. I glance at Anaïs.

She sits with her hands resting at her sides, looking ahead with glazed-over eyes. Her fingers tap the leather seats, and her right leg bounces up and down. She’s not as relaxed as she’s trying to make it look.

She licks her lips nervously and glances at me.

“Do you think the driver is going to report back to our parents?” she asks.

“Oh, yes.” I cast a glance at the closed partition. “I’d bet my life on it. He’s probably been asked to report every detail.”

“Alright.” She hesitates. “So, everything according to plan, right?”

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