Page 26 of Savage Prince

The woman I knew, the one I love, might not be gone forever.

But as Juliet zips down the ten-foot slide at the park, laughing like a kid, I’m not sure that’s a good thing. She’s so much happier and more resilient now. She takes hardship in stride and keeps hoping for better things. Her smiles come easily, and her laugh is so full of joy, it makes me grin in spite of myself.

“Come on, your turn,” she says, beaming up at me from the bottom. When I hesitate, she stretches out her arms. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll catch you.”

I snort and wave her to the side. “You will not. You’ll get out of the way. I’m too heavy. I’m probably going to fly down this thing like a bat out of hell.”

“I wonder where that phrase comes from?” she asks as she backs away from the bottom of the slide, a twinkle in her eye. “Someone saw a bunch of bats bursting out of a cave at twilight and assumed they were headed out of hell?”

“Probably,” I say, settling at the top of the slide. “Move back farther. This is going to be explosive.”

She rolls her eyes as she meanders backward another step. “Oh, please. You’re not that much bigger than I am, and I came down just fine.”

“I’m twice your size.”

She snorts. “You are not. I’m at least a hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle, I bet. And what are you? One eighty?”

“Two twenty,” I say, arching a wry brow. “And you’re maybe a hundred and twenty, soaking wet.”

“I can still kick your ass,” she says. “Especially when it comes to speed. Last one to the fountain on the other side of the park has to steal lunch.”

She takes off at a sprint as I call out, “Cheaters never prosper, Short Stack.” I zip down the slide and hit the ground running, easily catching up with her.

When I pass her a good fifty feet from the fountain, I turn, running backward as I pant, “Oh no, looks like you cheated and you’re still going to lose.”

“Fat chance,” she huffs, pouring on another burst of speed. “Don’t get cocky before the finish line.” She catches up with me and rams her bony shoulder into my arm as I’m turning back around, making me trip over my own feet.

I try to recover, but it’s too late. I hit the ground hard and roll across the grass.

By the time I’m upright again, Juliet’s at the fountain, one foot propped up on the edge and her arms thrust into the air. “I am the legendary stuff of legend!”

“You’re also a bad winner,” I say as I stand, brushing the grass off my clothes. I point to my stained elbows with a glare her way. “You’re ruined my favorite sweatshirt.”

She laughs. “That’s your only sweatshirt. But it’s okay. It’s getting warm enough for t-shirts.” She reaches down, stripping off her own sweatshirt, revealing the tight blue tee she’s wearing underneath. It hugs her breasts and tiny waist, sending my thoughts back into dangerous territory.

She holds my gaze with a grin as she tosses the sweatshirt onto the concrete at her feet. “Sorry, this is so tight. Oily’s girlfriend is apparently a very tiny human.”

“Yeah, guess so,” I mumble, too busy talking my cock down from the edge of an obscene hard-on to think of something clever to say.

Her smile widens. “You should strip down, too. So, I can join the staring and drooling party.”

“I’m not drooling,” I shoot back, unable to dispute the staring part. A part of me wants to keep my top layer on as an extra level of protection against this flirtation I don’t quite know how to handle, but the Alpha in me can’t resist the challenge in her gaze.

I strip off the stained sweatshirt, tossing it onto the ground beside hers as I stop in front of her. “We should go get the bags.”

“The bags are fine,” she says, holding my gaze. “There’s no one on the playground.” She glances behind me for a second before her focus returns to my face. “No one in the park, really, except the coffee guy and his cart faces the street.”

“Your point?” I ask, as she steps closer.

“I doubt anyone would notice if I climbed you like a tree and made out with your face,” she says, sending a surge of awareness dumping into my bloodstream.

“I’d notice,” I say, torn between backing away and reaching for her, even though it wouldn’t be her I’m reaching for.

It would be the person she used to be, the one I want to hold so badly it feels like rabid squirrels are clawing away at my insides.

“I would hope so,” she says, her fingers skimming up the sides of my hips before slipping under the back of my t-shirt. The feel of her hands on my bare skin is enough to wrench a groan from low in my throat. “Was that a good groan or a bad one?” she whispers, pushing up on tiptoe until her mouth hovers just beneath mine.

“I don’t know,” I hear myself confess. “I want you so fucking much, but…”

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