anticipation.
Please don’t let me be a tongue-tied mess.
She shook her head, squaring her shoulders. Tonight her tongue was going to work. Tonight, she was a princess, and princesses always got the prince.
She strode toward him, confident, pretending like she was going to a meeting. Rosalind had done a great job picking the perfect dress. It floated, carrying her on air.
His hands were in his pocket and his head was turned, but his gaze was directly on her.
Of course he noticed her. They were supposed to be together, after all.
He straightened as she drew near, taking his hands out of his pockets. As she approached, he held his hand out. “Dance?”
She gasped. Eagerly, she put her hand in his and let him sweep her away.
He moved her into the crowd. Summer had no idea what sort of dance it was—maybe a waltz. She just nestled into him, eyes closed, and let herself go in a way that she never had before.
It was perfect.
He didn’t crowd her—he didn’t force her into his movements. It felt like he allowed her the space to move in her own way, even as he guided and protected her.
Of course he did, she thought, sighing. He was her prince. That was what he was supposed to do.
It was a powerful feeling. She was sharing in his lead, a give and take that lifted her to bursting.
She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. “I like this.”
He nodded solemnly.
“No. I really like this.” Because she knew he didn’t understand, and because tonight she was a magical version of herself, she took hold of his lapels and pulled his head down to kiss him.
He made a startled sound, but his hands gripped her closer. She looked into his eyes—she’d never noticed what a lovely shade of green they were—and wrapped her hand around his neck. He felt much more muscular than he’d looked all this time. His hair felt impossibly soft, and he smelled better than lemon cake on a birthday.
How would he taste?
She opened her lips and licked his bottom one, just a little, before nibbling it.
His hands tightened on her, and his eyes narrowed. Without a word, he whirled them behind the column in the doorway away from the eyes of the general public, pressed her against it, and kissed her like she was The One.
Surprised, her eyes flew open, but he deepened the kiss somehow and her eyes drifted shut with the intensity. She melted into him, her thoughts dissolving in the perfection of their lips melding.
It was magic.
She’d known all along he was the right one. Now she had proof, because a kiss never lied.
Summer hummed, her lips glancing against his as she murmured, “I knew it’d be you.”
“Me?” He peered at her from behind his mask.
She frowned—was Ryan from Australia? His accent wasn’t entirely British.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
She must have heard him wrong the first time, because his voice seemed normal this time. She shook her head. “No, but I’d like you to. My name is Summer.”
“Summer …”
“Summer Welles.” She kissed him again, more aggressive, more sure this time. She needed to prove to him that she was the one he should be with. She hummed, whispering against his lips. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find you, but it was like you were waiting for me.”
He moved his hand lower, so it cupped behind her hip. “Is that how it seemed?”
She nodded, letting him kiss down her neck. A trail of fire lit her from inside, and she was glad the wall had her back. “I can’t believe I’ve been afraid to talk to you all this time. And now things are so complicated, with your situation.”
He lifted his head, his eyes sharp. “My situation?”
She nodded. “With the other things you have going on.”
“About those other things—”
“Not tonight.” She ran her hand down his torso, to rest at his waist. “Let’s just be together, the two of us, for this one night.”
He looked down at her, his eyes solemn. “Be together how?”
Any way he wanted.
Except there was
Please don’t let me be a tongue-tied mess.
She shook her head, squaring her shoulders. Tonight her tongue was going to work. Tonight, she was a princess, and princesses always got the prince.
She strode toward him, confident, pretending like she was going to a meeting. Rosalind had done a great job picking the perfect dress. It floated, carrying her on air.
His hands were in his pocket and his head was turned, but his gaze was directly on her.
Of course he noticed her. They were supposed to be together, after all.
He straightened as she drew near, taking his hands out of his pockets. As she approached, he held his hand out. “Dance?”
She gasped. Eagerly, she put her hand in his and let him sweep her away.
He moved her into the crowd. Summer had no idea what sort of dance it was—maybe a waltz. She just nestled into him, eyes closed, and let herself go in a way that she never had before.
It was perfect.
He didn’t crowd her—he didn’t force her into his movements. It felt like he allowed her the space to move in her own way, even as he guided and protected her.
Of course he did, she thought, sighing. He was her prince. That was what he was supposed to do.
It was a powerful feeling. She was sharing in his lead, a give and take that lifted her to bursting.
She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. “I like this.”
He nodded solemnly.
“No. I really like this.” Because she knew he didn’t understand, and because tonight she was a magical version of herself, she took hold of his lapels and pulled his head down to kiss him.
He made a startled sound, but his hands gripped her closer. She looked into his eyes—she’d never noticed what a lovely shade of green they were—and wrapped her hand around his neck. He felt much more muscular than he’d looked all this time. His hair felt impossibly soft, and he smelled better than lemon cake on a birthday.
How would he taste?
She opened her lips and licked his bottom one, just a little, before nibbling it.
His hands tightened on her, and his eyes narrowed. Without a word, he whirled them behind the column in the doorway away from the eyes of the general public, pressed her against it, and kissed her like she was The One.
Surprised, her eyes flew open, but he deepened the kiss somehow and her eyes drifted shut with the intensity. She melted into him, her thoughts dissolving in the perfection of their lips melding.
It was magic.
She’d known all along he was the right one. Now she had proof, because a kiss never lied.
Summer hummed, her lips glancing against his as she murmured, “I knew it’d be you.”
“Me?” He peered at her from behind his mask.
She frowned—was Ryan from Australia? His accent wasn’t entirely British.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
She must have heard him wrong the first time, because his voice seemed normal this time. She shook her head. “No, but I’d like you to. My name is Summer.”
“Summer …”
“Summer Welles.” She kissed him again, more aggressive, more sure this time. She needed to prove to him that she was the one he should be with. She hummed, whispering against his lips. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find you, but it was like you were waiting for me.”
He moved his hand lower, so it cupped behind her hip. “Is that how it seemed?”
She nodded, letting him kiss down her neck. A trail of fire lit her from inside, and she was glad the wall had her back. “I can’t believe I’ve been afraid to talk to you all this time. And now things are so complicated, with your situation.”
He lifted his head, his eyes sharp. “My situation?”
She nodded. “With the other things you have going on.”
“About those other things—”
“Not tonight.” She ran her hand down his torso, to rest at his waist. “Let’s just be together, the two of us, for this one night.”
He looked down at her, his eyes solemn. “Be together how?”
Any way he wanted.
Except there was
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