Page 218 of My Dark Prince
It took a second for me to register that I’d heard her words through the line, as well. When I did, I almost dropped my phone. My head whipped up. I scanned the crowd for the source of my headache.
And there he was.
Oliver von Bismarck – his gaze locked on mine and that maddening signature smirk plastered on his kissable lips.
Chapter Ninety-Nine
Oliver
It was only fitting that I landed in Los Angeles with a posse.
Romeo, Zach, Dallas, and Farrow followed me here, uninvited, for the sheer pleasure of watching me eat a giant slice of humble pie. (Apparently, nothing bonded friends like a cross-country pilgrimage to witness me grovel.)
They scored front-row seats in the lobby waiting area, actual popcorn in hand.
Meanwhile, I leaned against a column, waiting for Briar to spot me. The sight of her – so fucking gorgeous I wanted to taste her – made the five-hour trip here worth it. I gulped up every detail: the messy top bun, the skintight yoga pants, the frustrated frown on her pouty lips.
Then, her head snapped up, sweeping left and right before landing on me.
Our eyes met.
For a second, I forgot every single line I’d rehearsed on the flight. Then, her expression morphed from a smile into a scowl. I pushed off the column and crossed the lobby, meeting her halfway.
I didn’t bother hiding my grin. “Did I just make your day?”
“If you’re here to escort me back to Potomac, I can’t go.” She chewed on her lower lip. “My dad is here.”
“Time out.” I held up a hand to stop her. “We need a make-out break before we start arguing. I haven’t seen you in thirty fucking days, and I’m about two seconds from fallingto my knees and begging to touch you. Personally, I’m game, but I figured you’d rather not makeTMZheadlines.”
With that, I stormed forward, cradled her face in my giant hands, and pressed my lips to hers. Her hesitation melted under my touch. She slid her arms around my neck. Her tiny gasps curled into my mouth like a gentle caress. I dove my tongue inside, tangling with hers.
Briar’s fingernails found my shoulders and dug in deep enough to leave marks for days. The kiss held every word I’d wanted to say for the last thirty days.
I love you, and I love you, and I love you.
She clawed at my chest, trying to yank me closer. Our mouths moved in sync, hungry and desperate and unrestrained. Around us, people cheered and catcalled. I’d already forgotten where we were.
We reluctantly pulled apart, breathless and still clinging to each other. The world crept back inch by unforgiving inch. We’d garnered an audience with our PDA, but at least they were polite enough to give us a wide berth.
I rested my forehead on hers, savoring the closeness. “I missed you.”
“I thought of you every second on the island.” Briar cleared her throat and tried to lighten the mood. “I bet your right hand is tired from its thirty-day workout challenge.”
Except it wasn’t. I’d spent each day too messed up to do anything but bitch and moan about Briar’s absence.
I wiped away the slickness on her lips, parting the lower one enough to perk up my dick. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Someone whistled. I was two seconds from scooping her up and giving the crowd a taste of real sex ed. But alas, my reputation as a gentleman already hung by tattered threads.
“Back to business.” Briar stepped away, tugging her sweater tighter. A faint pink rose to her cheeks as she struggled to collect herself. “Where are my things, Oliver?”
“In the penthouse.”
Her brows popped up as if I’d bottled up air and demanded she pay for it. “I can’t afford to rent the penthouse.”
“About that. I don’t think this long-distance thing is going to work.”
She paled. “Excuse me?”
