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“Do you feel it, Jazz?”
“What?” I gasp, barely able to speak. Everything inside me is too focused on keeping myself together while his hands and mouth explore my body.
“Us, Jazz. The magic.”
My fingers curl into his hair as he drops a kiss on my clavicle, then slides my shirt off over my head. My bra doesn’t put up much of a fight, and lands on top of my shirt on the floor. When I’m topless before him, the Prince stands back, his hands on my sides, bottom lip sucked between his teeth.
“You shouldn’t be afraid of me, Jazz,” he says quietly, moving a hand to cup my breast. He tweaks my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and lust crashes against me. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Promise?” I whisper, not even knowing what I’m saying.
“On my life.” His mouth covers my breast, sucking my nipple between his teeth, and I cry out so loudly I expect to hear bangs on the neighboring rooms’ walls. My back arches toward him, hands grasping him, panties ruined.
I almost laugh at myself. I thought I could resist this? I thought I was doing myself a favor by trying to avoid the Prince?
I was a fool.
Heat crashes into me with every lash of his tongue against my peaked nipple. I feel every pad of his fingers as they sink into my flesh, wrapping around my waist and pulling me closer. When he reaches down to unfasten the button of my jeans, I know nothing could compare to this.
No quick fuck with a colleague. No one-night stand with someone I meet at a bar.
Silas is right. There’s magic between us, and it sparks when we touch. Every time I’ve been near him, all I’ve wanted to do is touch his skin, taste his kiss. And now I know why—because it feels like a drug pumped straight into my bloodstream. Like I was made and lived only for this very moment.
Silas moves his lips to the other breast as his hand slides down the front of my pants. He lets out a satisfied moan when he feels the wetness there, and that simple noise sends another wave of desire pulsing through my veins.
I’m half-naked in a hotel room with a prince. That in itself should be a red-alert situation for my mind, but I’m currently wrapped up in a blissful fog. I can’t think straight. Can’t think of anything except the way it feels to have his broad hands on my body, his warm mouth on my breast, his fingers sliding through the arousal that dampens my underwear every time we share the same space.
I’m ready to give it all to him. To tear that tuxedo off his body and lick him from head to toe. Spread my legs for him and give everything. Throw my convictions out the window and just have one night. Just one night where I feel like I deserve this.
But my phone rings, slicing through the fog blanketing my mind. I freeze long enough for Silas to kiss the edge of my lip. “Ignore it.” His hand slides between my legs, and I whimper.
I do as he says, turning my head to catch his bottom lip between my teeth. He groans, working his fingers around my opening as I press myself against him. His hand feels like heaven. My phone goes quiet, and I pull him closer. His cock presses up against my stomach, and all I want to do is drop to my knees and take it in my mouth. The need to pleasure him is almost overwhelming as I slide down the zipper of his pants.
The phone rings again, then buzzes once. A text message.
I groan, resting my forehead against his chest. “I should get that.”
“Why?” he whispers, nipping my earlobe. “Whoever it is will still be there in the morning.”
I put my palms on his chest and gently push him away, shaking my head. “No one calls me at night.” Unless something is wrong.
I hate putting distance between us. I hate turning my back to him, because suddenly I’m embarrassed. Without the heat of his chest pressed up against mine, without his mouth carving hot trails over my skin, I suddenly feel exposed. I pick my shirt up off the ground on my way to the desk, pulling it over my head. It’s inside out, but it doesn’t matter.
Nothing matters the moment I see Rhea’s name on the screen. Call me ASAP. Your mom had an accident.
Lust evaporates into thin air as panic settles in. I suck in a hard breath, hands shaking so much I almost drop my phone.
“Jazz?” Silas’s voice sounds like it’s coming from far away, and I can’t answer. I can’t even turn to face him. I lean on the desk and dial Rhea’s number, putting the phone to my ear as I squeeze my eyes shut.
She answers on the second ring, and I start talking before she even has the time to say hello. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
A slight pause as Rhea takes a breath, then: “I think you’d better come home.”
16
Jazz
Rhea’s words inject pure, white-hot panic into my veins. My breath stops.
