His Royal Highness - R.S. Grey Page 0,79

pissed.

He backs me up against the door, holding my wrists, annoyingly strong. I’m breathing hard, trying to slice him with my narrowed gaze. His hips meet mine, pinning me, and he bends down again, his lips a whisper against my skin.

“Forgive me?”

Then he kisses my neck, and the tension in my stomach gives way to something else. A soft, warm flutter. His mouth trails lower, closer to the edge of my deep square neckline. Since I’m still in costume, he has access to too much of my skin. His lips are everywhere, begging me to give in. I curse Costuming for not putting me in a turtleneck.

“Whitney,” he begs, and I can’t hold out.

Two weeks have felt like two years and I whimper as his lips find a sensitive spot beneath my collarbone. He hears the soft sound and it’s all the green light he needs. His lips find mine and we kiss with a frenzy, like we’re each other’s only hope for survival. Kiss me or the world will come to an end. His tongue sweeps across mine and I bite his lip, and I must draw blood. I taste it as his hand covers my breast over my dress, angry at the amount of material that separates our skin. There’s a zipper in the back of my bodice; with a sharp tug, it’s loose enough for him to tug it down and cover me with his palm. I shiver with pleasure. Impatient and possessive, neither one of us is taking the time to do this the civilized way.

His other hand is tugging up my tulle skirt, fighting against the forty-five layers until his fingers find my bare leg and then skim up across the soft triangle of fabric between my legs. Back and forth, he brushes teasingly before he tugs my panties aside. My eyes squeeze shut. Already, I’m close, hovering on the precipice, wild with want as voices drift in and out from the hallway on the other side of the door. Near us. Behind us. The door handle shakes and someone curses.

My eyes fly open.

Alarm bells ring.

Derek holds his finger up to my lips in warning and we stay silent.

“Who locked this?” a woman asks, annoyed.

“Not sure. Wasn’t me.”

“Dammit,” she groans. “I gotta go get my key. C’mon.”

“Shit,” Derek curses under his breath, stepping back, taking my heart with him. I sag against the door, trying to catch my breath.

With slow perusal, Derek carries his gaze up my body, memorizing me.

I don’t cover myself, though I want to. The adoration in his eyes pins my arms by my sides.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “C’mon. Crap. This was stupid. We need to get out of here.”

He helps fix my dress and assures me I don’t look too thoroughly ravaged. Then he cracks the door, nods, and gently pushes me out. He follows and just like that, we’re back in the hall, passing other employees as if he didn’t just have his hand up my skirt.

I feel cranky and unsatisfied.

He must feel the same way because we don’t say a word as we walk together, side by side, eyes straight ahead.

“When can I see you again?” I ask once we turn a corner.

“Tonight?”

“We’re having a Halloween-themed movie night in the dorm. Hocus Pocus. The girls will kill me if I cancel.”

“Tomorrow I’ve got meetings all day. Then there’s the trick-or-treat event in the park.”

“Thomas and Carrie are hosting a Halloween party at his apartment tomorrow night. Will you be there?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll try.”

His hand finds mine and our fingers link together.

“I never thought I’d miss working as His Royal Highness,” he says, giving me a private smile.

I manage a meager smile in response just before his phone rings. He sighs. Apparently, our time is up.

I love Halloween as much as the next pumpkin-spice-drinking, decorating-for-fall-in-July girl, but my heart isn’t in it this year. Even the Oscar-worthy performances in Hocus Pocus can’t turn my mood around. The next day in the park, all the children are dressed in costumes with their candy buckets at the ready. After each photo I take, I dole out a piece of candy, and before I know it, my shift is over and I’m headed to have dinner with Cal. It’s later than usual by the time I arrive.

He’s sitting at the window in his living room, looking out at the park. It’s filled with trick-or-treaters still running around, trying to overflow their buckets. Tonight, the

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