Page 436 of Bad Prince
Both of us very aware of where I am.
His voice comes out scraped raw.
“You are making this difficult.”
I smile against his mouth.
“That was the goal.”
His hand tightens at my waist.
“Brat.”
I sit back just enough to look at him.
“Chicken.”
That makes him laugh once, breathless and disbelieving.
Then his eyes move slowly over my face, my throat, the curve of my mouth, and I swear the look alone should be illegal over state lines.
“You have no idea,” he says quietly, “how much effort it’s taking not to lay you down across this seat and forget I ever had a plan.”
Every single nerve in my body lights up.
“Then maybe forget it.”
His smile returns, smaller now. More dangerous.
“No.”
I smack his shoulder.
He actually laughs.
Which is infuriating.
“You are the worst.”
“And you’re impatient.”
“I’m not impatient.”
He just looks at me.
I roll my eyes.
“Fine. I’m impatient.”
“There she is.”
I hate that I’m smiling now too.
I shift, still half in his lap, and glance toward the front of the plane. The flight attendant appears professionally occupied with literally anything else in the universe.
Good for her.
I look back at Tristan and lower my voice.
