Page 117
Story: The Heiress's First Date
“Boyfriend?” Gabe demands, pulling me against him.
I didn’t realize that until this moment, I was still a bit out of sorts. Tense and uneasy because I hadn’t seen him in days. Is that what it’d be like? Ill at ease whenever my guys travel? Keeping multiple calendars to know who is where and when?
But with his talented hands clasped around my waist, our thighs brushing, and that look of longing etched across his face, my stomach flips and my heart races and everything in me just feels settled.
“Do you have another title you’d prefer?” I ask, sliding my palms up his chest.
He purses his lips, deciding.
“King. Emperor. Supreme ruler?—”
“Hey now,” Kingston cuts in, and I hear him stalk across the room toward us. “I’m the OG King.”
“There can be only one,” I tease.
Gabe gives a good-natured shrug and glances over my shoulder. I feel something pass between them, but then his attention is on me again.
“We wouldn’t want to subject you to that. Boyfriend will do for now. Welcome home, Princess.”
“I missed you,” I whisper as he ducks his head to kiss me.
“Ditto,” he whispers against my lips.
Pleasure wells up in my chest, making me feel light and like anything’s possible. Even the four of us working out somehow.
I nip his lower lip. He groans and the vibrations reverberate through my hands, down my arms, taking residence in my core. He deepens the kiss, swiping along the seam of my lips with his tongue. Heat sweeps over my shoulders, down my back, calling up a seemingly never-ending need.
But then he lifts his head, bright blue eyes unfocused, lips parted.
Who knew Gabriel Rothburn could look bemused?
I smile because he’s adorable.
“Alex said you were going to be home late.”
“Yeah. I cut out early.” Another glance at King. “But I have to leave again in an hour or so.”
I give him a little pout. “Sad.”
He squeezes my hips and thrusts his chin King’s way. “Well, at least you have this one to keep you company.”
“I kissed Gabe.” King blurts the words like he can’t help himself, the tension releasing from him like an over-inflated balloon that somersaults around the room when you let it go.
I didn’t realize that until this moment, I was still a bit out of sorts. Tense and uneasy because I hadn’t seen him in days. Is that what it’d be like? Ill at ease whenever my guys travel? Keeping multiple calendars to know who is where and when?
But with his talented hands clasped around my waist, our thighs brushing, and that look of longing etched across his face, my stomach flips and my heart races and everything in me just feels settled.
“Do you have another title you’d prefer?” I ask, sliding my palms up his chest.
He purses his lips, deciding.
“King. Emperor. Supreme ruler?—”
“Hey now,” Kingston cuts in, and I hear him stalk across the room toward us. “I’m the OG King.”
“There can be only one,” I tease.
Gabe gives a good-natured shrug and glances over my shoulder. I feel something pass between them, but then his attention is on me again.
“We wouldn’t want to subject you to that. Boyfriend will do for now. Welcome home, Princess.”
“I missed you,” I whisper as he ducks his head to kiss me.
“Ditto,” he whispers against my lips.
Pleasure wells up in my chest, making me feel light and like anything’s possible. Even the four of us working out somehow.
I nip his lower lip. He groans and the vibrations reverberate through my hands, down my arms, taking residence in my core. He deepens the kiss, swiping along the seam of my lips with his tongue. Heat sweeps over my shoulders, down my back, calling up a seemingly never-ending need.
But then he lifts his head, bright blue eyes unfocused, lips parted.
Who knew Gabriel Rothburn could look bemused?
I smile because he’s adorable.
“Alex said you were going to be home late.”
“Yeah. I cut out early.” Another glance at King. “But I have to leave again in an hour or so.”
I give him a little pout. “Sad.”
He squeezes my hips and thrusts his chin King’s way. “Well, at least you have this one to keep you company.”
“I kissed Gabe.” King blurts the words like he can’t help himself, the tension releasing from him like an over-inflated balloon that somersaults around the room when you let it go.
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