another blush warms my cheeks. Melissa clicks her tongue, grinning at me in the mirror. “Look at you, getting back on the horse. I’m proud of you.”
I force a smile as my thoughts flick to the baby inside me. Getting ‘back on the horse’ doesn’t seem like such a great idea for me right now.
“I think you need a good orgasm,” Melissa says, focused on my hair. “Something to take your mind off things. When was the last time a man like that made you come?”
I force a smile, laughing awkwardly in response.
The truth? Years. I haven’t actually had pleasure from sex or intimacy in a long, long time. Before sleeping with Prince Beckett, it had been over a year since I’d had sex.
A part of me thinks that maybe orgasms just aren’t a part of my life anymore. Maybe that ship has sailed. Pleasure has been replaced with anxiety.
But as my thoughts flick to Dante, and the way he makes my body burn, I think that maybe Melissa is right. Maybe it’s time for me to let my hair down.
6
Dante
Margot is whisked away by her team, and re-emerges looking like a different person. Gone are the soft, subtle lines of her face. Instead, she looks glamorous and done up. Her long, blonde hair is carefully curled and swept to one side in a natural, effortless kind of way.
Holding her arms out, she grins at me. “Ta-da!”
Honestly, Margot could wear a paper bag and she would look incredible. Hanging out with her this morning made me realize that she’s not just a vapid celebrity.
“You look beautiful,” I say. It’s the truth. ‘Beautiful’ doesn’t even cover it, but gushing about how fucking hard she’s making me doesn’t seem like the right thing to do. My heart thumps as I try to swallow past a lump in my throat.
Margot smiles, blushing. The thought of her blushing at a compliment is funny to me, in a way. I’m sure she gets showered with praise all day, every day—and yet my words have that effect on her.
The team rushes around her, touching up her hair as she walks toward the front door. I nod to her, and something tugs at my heart. Disappointment seeps into my chest as I watch her approach the front door.
Then, Margot pauses. Turning to face me, she tilts her head.
“Do you… Would you like to come?”
I frown. “Me?”
Margot blushes harder, shaking her head. “Stupid question. I know you must hate these things. I just thought… I don’t know what I thought. I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll come,” I blurt out, grabbing Luca’s jacket from the closet.
Margot’s face brightens. “Really? You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Surprisingly, it’s the truth. We walk out to the waiting car, and I slide my hand over her lower back. Tingles flow up my arm, and my breath catches in my throat.
Margot exchanges a glance with one of her stylists—either hair or makeup—and her blush deepens.
When we get in the car, her soft, feminine scent fills my nostrils. I inhale, committing the smell to memory. It makes heat flood my stomach, and I force myself to calm my racing heart.
How is it possible for a woman to have this effect on me? I love it and hate it at the same time. I don’t want to be around her when I feel tongue-tied and clumsy, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
“You sure you want to come? You look nervous.”
“Only because I’m sitting next to you.” I grin as if it’s a joke. I haven’t even thought about the fact that we’re going to a TV studio, or that there will be cameras and microphones and interviewers all around.
Margot chuckles, but it dies quickly. She glances at the driver, and then leans toward me.
“I’m nervous.”
I slide my hand into hers, giving it a squeeze. Margot’s face softens, and a tentative smile spreads across her lips. She lets out a long breath, and nods slowly.
“Thank you.”
We keep holding hands for the duration of the ride. I feel like I’m fourteen years old again, nervous to be around a girl I like. It feels right to have her palm against mine, but it makes my mind jump to all kinds of other situations.
Is my hand getting too sweaty? Can she see the tightening in my pants? Do I have food stuck in my teeth?
I steal a glance at Margot, and my heart takes off at breakneck speed again.
I imagine slipping her out of her sheer, white blouse and