Page 12 of Every Eligible Man

"Incoming," I say. "Everyone look devastatingly handsome. Wreck, maybe hide the ferrets."

"Never."

She stops close enough that I can smell her perfume. Something expensive and dangerous, like jasmine mixed with sex. Her gaze travels from Ash to me to Wreck, lingering on each of us like she's sampling a menu.

"Gentlemen."

Her voice is lower than I expected. Huskier. Like she's already imagining what we'd sound like in bed.

I catalogue every microexpression as she looks at us. The slight parting of her lips when her gaze lands on Ash's chest. The way her breath quickens when she meets my eyes. The spark of surprised delight when she takes in Wreck's unhinged grin.

"I've been watching every man in this ballroom for the last three hours," she continues. "They've all disappointed me profoundly. You three are the first ones who look like you might actually be worth my time."

Ash stays silent. Brooding. Letting his presence speak for itself.

Wreck is vibrating with barely contained chaos.

Which means it's my turn to charm.

I execute a bow, not the stiff court bow the princes use, but something looser, more suggestive. The kind of bow that says I know exactly what I'm doing and I'm very good at it.

"My lady. We're honored to be worth your consideration."

"Don't be honored yet. I haven't decided if you're actually interesting or just better-dressed than the usual disappointments." Her attention shifts to Ash. "You. Big one. You haven't said a word since you walked in. Is that because you're the strong silent type, or because you're boring?"

I watch Ash's jaw tighten. Watch him consider his response. My brother isn't good with words, but when he uses them, they land.

"I find that most of the men here talk too much and deliver too little," he says, voice low and rough. "I prefer to let my actions speak."

Cinder's eyebrow arches. Her lips curve. I catch the slight hitch in her breathing. She liked that answer. A lot.

"Bold." She turns to Wreck. "And you? You look like you're planning something illegal."

"Always," Wreck says with a grin that probably should be classified as a weapon. "But I promise it's the fun kind of illegal."

"The fun kind?"

"The kind where everyone involved ends up satisfied and slightly out of breath."

Cinder laughs.

It's real. Surprised. Delighted.

Something shifts in her expression. The careful mask of the bored lady cracking to reveal something hungrier underneath. She's intrigued. She's interested.

She's ours.

"Tell me, gentlemen." She steps closer, close enough that I could count her eyelashes if I wanted to. Close enough that her perfume wraps around me like an invitation. "I've spent a year listening to princes fumble through courtship while demonstrating all the passion of a limp handshake. What makes you three different?"

We exchange a glance. A silent conversation happens in the span of a heartbeat, the kind of communication that only works between people who've survived years of shit together.

Ash speaks first. "You're tired of men who don't know what they want. I know exactly what I want. And I'm not afraid to take it."

Her pulse jumps in her throat.

My turn.

"You're tired of men who can't keep up," I add, letting my voice drop to something intimate. "I can keep up. And I can make you forget every boring moment you've suffered through tonight."