Page 10 of Spearcrest Prince

I dance to the music, drawing so close to her I can feel the heat from her skin. She smells clean and fresh and sweet, like lilacs and sea salt and cotton. The song shifts, carried by a high, ululating female voice, and a new beat kicks in. The girl opens her eyes and looks up to meet my gaze.

I lean down and speak in her ear.

“You’re the worst dancer I’ve seen in my life!”

She laughs and pulls away from me. She turns on the dancefloor, waving her arms above her head, splashing us both with whatever she’s drinking. She shouts her reply through the music.

“I don’t care at all!”

She has a slight accent which I can barely make out through the deafening music.

I pull her closer, dancing into her. “You’re going to make me look bad if we dance together!”

She wraps one hand around my neck, pulling my head down to hers so she can speak in my ear. “Then I’ll dance alone.”

I’m so drunk I can’t do anything but smile. “That’s even more embarrassing!”

“You don’t need to save me from myself,” she says with a roll of her eyes, moving away.

“No, I don’t.” I catch her by her waist and pull her closer once more. “It’s everybody else I’m trying to save from you.”

She laughs and throws her arms around my neck. Her wild, delighted laughter sends shivers across my skin like the shimmer of sunlight on the rippling surface of a lake. I pull her into me—she’s a good height. Not too tall, but not short either.

The perfect kissing height.

She dances so awkwardly it throws me off my own rhythm. I laugh and spin her around in my arms, grabbing her waist. It’s narrow, like the rest of her, but when I guide her hips with mine, she moves obediently. She leans her head back against my chest, and her hair brushes against my chin.

My cock stiffens, pushing against her ass. I want to pin her hips and grind into her, but I don’t want to freak her out. This girl isn’t from Spearcrest, so I’m okay to fuck her as far as the rules of the night go, but she isn’t my usual type of girl. She doesn’t feel worldly and clued-up.

Fucking someone who doesn’t understand the arrangement is dangerous business. I don’t date girls, but I don’t want to hurt them either. This girl seems too unrefined, too innocent. And a stupid bet with Luca isn’t a good enough reason to risk—

Then I feel a hand at my waist. I look down. The girl slips her fingers under my waistband, grabbing me by my belt. And then she’s pulling me through the crowd.

And every rational thought flies straight out of my head.

Chapter 5

Les Yeux Verts

Anaïs

Ipulltheboywith me all the way out of the dancing crowd, and after that, he takes things firmly in hand. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he leads me through the labyrinth of flashing lights and confusing shadows of the club.

My thoughts are just as confusing and labyrinthine. Really, I shouldn’t have agreed to go partying with girls I don’t know. I shouldn’t have drifted off on my own, alone in a club in a country I’m brand new to. I should not have indulged in so many free drinks.

And I definitely shouldn’t be doing this.

This guy isn’t even my type: too pretty, too polished. His all-black outfit screams luxury and wealth, and his gold jewellery, green eyes and floppy black hair make him look like he’s right off the front cover of a fashion magazine. He even looks a little bit familiar. His face gives me that feeling like seeing a stranger in a dream: familiar and unknown all at once.

But right now, I don’t care. I miss home. I miss the sea, I miss my friends, I miss parties on the beach and the warmth of a body pressed against mine. I was never one for relationships, but I miss drunken kisses and careless nights.

I miss freedom and intimacy.

My mysterious partner slaps some money into an attendant’s hand and pulls me through a doorway into a dimly lit coat room upholstered in red velvet. He slams the door shut and pins me to it; then his mouth is on mine.

And then everything falls into place. The moment becomes something new and beautiful, like the colours in an abstract painting forming a shapeless moment, an intangible emotion.

I open my mouth under his.

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