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And someone—I now could not even remember who—feeling the spiritedness of the atmosphere, had put on music. I could only ever remember my mother doing that, and it made me feel like she was there with us, sharing in what had turned out to be a wonderful evening.
When the opening notes of a song had played, my waif stood at once, passing the baby back to its mother, and walked to the center of the room. All of our eyes had followed, and the din of conversation gave way to a hushed silence as we waited to see what she would do.
Then, as though she could feel the weight of our gazes, as though she knew the exact right moment, she’d lifted her arm above her head in a graceful arc, and begun to dance, moving across the room as fluidly as if her limbs were made of water and the floor was her ocean. She made movement look like the most natural thing in the world, twirling and swaying as the music played in the background, a mere accompaniment for this display of impromptu, rhythmic beauty.
I’d never been one for dancing, as an observer or a participant. Yet, when the music stopped and she paused, cheeks flushed, hair fanning behind her like a golden-red spotlight, my breath was caught in my tight chest. Then, as though they had a mind of their own, my hands began to clap.
I only had eyes for her and must have been put in something like a trance by her performance because when I came to, I heard thunderous applause. My beautiful little waif turned to my father and inclined her head. Immediately after, she walked back to the chair and sat down while people leapt to their feet, applauding and cheering while she looked on like she didn’t know what all the fuss was about.
How is it possible she hears their roar of approval and sits there like it doesn’t affect her? I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or irritated.
Until her eyes found mine and my heart revved to life inside my chest. I saw it all in her eyes: she felt the same way about me. She only had eyes for me.
I took her hand and dipped my head over it, pressing a gentle kiss to her silky skin.
And without another thought, I jumped to my feet, tugging her along with me. Each step we took together felt light and infused with a heady kind of excitement. When we found ourselves outside her room, the pang of regret I felt was like nothing I’d ever experienced.
It seemed a strange kind of torture to leave her there, and yet… she was a lady, and even I knew better than to trifle with the feelings of a well-bred woman, even though her eyes were begging me to?
We nearly kissed, but then I thought better of that. It was sheer agony to pull away before I had tasted her lips, but I knew a taste would never be enough. If allowed to sample her lips, I would not be able to stop myself from ravishing her.
For perhaps the very first time in my life, I backed away. I forced myself to play the gentleman, and the next thing I knew, my cock was in her small, yet strong hand.
It was already well awake, but at her touch, it grew and hardened even more, aching to be released.
“You do not know what you are doing,” I told her, my voice husky and stern.
But she did not release me. Instead, her fingers uncurled and then began to stroke up and down the length of my hard manhood.
“Waif, you must stop.”
Her eyes flicked up toward my face, confused. Then and there I made a mental note that we needed to find something for me to call her.
But that would have to wait until later, when my blood wasn’t pumping straight to my cock.
The cock she was still stroking, as though it were a thing of beauty, to be worshiped.
Damn it all to hell, if I don’t get her out of here right now…
And then she was kneeling, putting herself on the floor as a servant to my stiff, throbbing manhood.
“Get up,” I commanded, and when she did not immediately obey, I took her by the arm and yanked her up with one hand, and with the other turned the knob of the door.
Then I pushed her, none too gently, into the room and slammed the door behind us.
Ari
At first, I was sure he was angry with me. His dark eyes burned into me and as soon as the door closed behind us, he leaned against it, his breathing thick and ragged.
I had just worked up the courage to approach him and was reaching for his shoulder when he turned.
“Why do you insist on doing this to me?” he demanded, the words hotter than his gaze. “Well, you will get what you want; I only hope we won’t both come to regret it.”
Before I could even begin to wonder what that meant, he began to stalk toward me. Without thinking, I stepped back, but my feet were still unfamiliar appendages and I soon twisted in the wrong way and went down into a heap on the ground.
The prince scooped me up and tossed me onto the bed without a word. Before I could think of what was happening inside my chest, much less my quivering legs, he was crawling toward me.
My breath hitched as I watched him approach. His eyes were dark, fathomless pools and his mouth formed a sly smile that made my chest tighten. I feel like a guppy trying to escape a shark, I thought over the pounding of my heart. But I would not have said a word to stop him even if I was capable. I had to know what came next. And if this waiting was anything even close to what it would feel like, it would be marvelous.
