Page 454 of Bad Prince
When I’m done, I touch gloss to my mouth and turn toward the bathroom just as the door opens.
And there he is.
In a tuxedo.
My knees actually weaken.
It should annoy me how devastating he is.
It doesn’t.
It just finishes me.
Five years ago he was beautiful in that prep-school prince way that made girls stupid and boys competitive.
Now—he is all man.
Broader. Harder. Muscle filling out the clean lines of black formalwear like it was designed for exactly this. His dark hair is brushed back, his jaw sharper somehow, his shoulders impossible, his whole body radiating quiet power and money and male confidence so precise it barely has to announce itself.
The older version of the boy I first fell for.
Only this one has weight to him. A gravity that makes the whole room feel smaller around his body.
He stops when he sees me, eyes go over me once, and the air leaves his lungs so visibly it makes my heart somersault. Because he is looking at me like the dress worked too well, like every expensive detail just made things infinitely worse for him.
He steps closer until he’s standing in front of me with something almost like disbelief still in his eyes.
“You’re killing me,” he murmurs.
I smile without meaning to.
“You bought the weapon.”
That gets the ghost of a laugh from him. His hands settle carefully at my waist, like he’s testing his own control again.
“Still dangerous,” he says.
“Still here.”
His gaze flicks over my face, softer now.
“Yeah.”
I don’t know which one of us leans in first.
Maybe both.
The kiss is brief.
Gentle.
Completely unfair.
When he pulls back, he looks more composed than I feel.
“Ready?” he asks.
No.
