The Billionaire's Princess - Ava Ryan Page 0,4

words pour out, unstoppable.

“I’ve been dying to make you laugh. I thought I could handle it. But that’s not a normal laugh. It’s been spiked or something. It went straight to my head.”

She doesn’t know what to make of me. I can tell by the vague frown between her brows and the way she chooses her words.

“Don’t bother flirting with me, sir. I already told you it won’t work.”

“You said something about not fucking me tonight,” I say, shrugging. “Neither one of us believed it at the time. Still don’t, as a matter of fact.”

She glares at me, oblivious to the server as he drops off our drinks and fades into the woodwork.

“You’re a cheeky prick, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea,” I assure her.

“And why would I waste my time with such an arrogant arse, pray tell?” she demands.

I lean closer, dying to touch her as I rest my elbows on the table.

“Careful,” I say, giving her a pointed once-over that lingers on her eyes, lips and cleavage. “You’re going to want me inside you before the night’s over. Don’t make it too hard to get yourself back on the playing field.”

She makes an outraged sound, her face flooding with color. But before she can let me have it with both barrels, as she clearly intends to do, her phone buzzes on the table. Lobbing a final glare in my direction, she checks the display and scowls.

“Well, this is brilliant,” she says. “Now my friend Michele’s gone and canceled on me.”

“Works for me,” I say with a cheery toast.

“I’ll just bet it does.”

“Don’t look at me like that. I had nothing to do with her not coming.” I pause to reconsider. “Other than hoping and wishing for it.”

She rolls her eyes, unable to entirely quash her amusement. That’s about the time that the pianist ends his solo set and a new performer takes the mic, introduces herself and launches into a tender and plaintive rendition of “Since I Fell for You.” The one thing the setting needs to become even more spellbinding than it already is. I watch her sing the opening few notes, then turn back to Carly.

She levels her gaze on my face. Steady. Smoldering. Expectant.

Honest to God, it’s all I can do to think a coherent thought when she looks at me like that.

I open my mouth, my voice on a three-second delay.

“What if we drink our drinks and listen to the music. See where the night takes us. Can we do that?”

“Yeah,” she says softly. “We can do that.”

“Good. Come sit with me. So you don’t have to crane your neck.”

I slide her drink over to my side of the table, and she follows suit, easing into the banquette on my right side. I shift closer, taking care to brush my leg against hers.

“This is better, isn’t it? Easier for you to see the singer this way,” I say.

As if the singer is remotely on my mind at this moment.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Carly says dryly, looking a little startled.

“I will. Thanks.”

With that, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her even closer. I leave my hand right where it is when I’m done, somewhere between waist and belly and not that far north of her pussy. She feels solid. Warm. Vibrant. Thrilling. To my immense pleasure and surprise, she covers my hand with hers, lacing our fingers together. I kiss her bare shoulder in response, noting the way she gasps and helplessly turns her head toward me. As though she hopes I might accidentally kiss her lips before pulling all the way back.

But I don’t. I sit there holding her and listening to a voice so evocative and beautiful that it makes my nape prickle. Maybe the martinis have been stronger than I thought, because for one wild second I think that I could live and die in this moment. Then it occurs to me that I’d rather die with her legs wrapped tight around my waist and me buried to the hilt inside her.

So I use my free hand to take her free hand and raise it to my mouth for a lingering kiss. And when I’m done with that, I lay her hand on my thigh, palm up, and trace letters while we listen to the music.

I.

W. A. N. T.

Y. O. U.

She ducks her head and grins, curling her fingers around mine.

“Look at me,” I murmur, tapping her chin to make sure she does as I say.

She does, reluctantly, her glittering eyes