Page 423 of Bad Prince
“Hey, baby.”
The word lands like a hand low on my spine.
I step back to let him in, already dizzy with relief and want and the wild certainty that the whole room is about to ignite.
He comes inside.
Closes the door behind him.
Sets the duffel down.
Then he turns, cups my face in both hands, and kisses me.
Sweetly.
Sweetly.
I almost laugh from the sheer shock of it.
Because I was ready for impact.
For hunger.
For the kind of kiss that makes a girl grab for furniture.
Instead Tristan kisses me like he missed me.
Like he thought about this too many times on too many roads and wanted the first real thing between us to feel it.
Soft at first.
Then deeper.
Still not out of control.
Still somehow gentle even with all that heat banked underneath it.
My fingers curl into the front of his shirt.
He makes the smallest sound in his throat when I do, but he still doesn’t lose control.
His mouth moves over mine once, twice, the kiss lingering just long enough to remind me exactly how dangerous restraint can be.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead brushes mine.
“I missed you,” he murmurs.
My whole body tilts toward him.
“Yeah?”
A ghost of a smile touches his mouth.
“Badly.”
I can feel my heartbeat in stupid places.
My wrists.
