Page 27 of Bossy Wicked Prince

Ryan drags his hands from the redhead’s legs to her ass, pulling up the hem of her dress while he’s at it. We can see the contrast of her creamy skin and black lace panties against his tanned hands as he squeezes her flesh. She doesn’t seem phased by the exposure. She just grinds her hips harder against his.

“That’s alot,” I admit.

And it’s…kind of hot. They look completely lost in each other, like they don’t give a shit who’s watching. Or maybe they like the attention. Maybe they like flaunting how gorgeous they both are, putting on a show that’s so sexy, anyone near them can’t help but watch.

Ryan kisses along the line of her neck, and she throws her head back in apparent ecstasy. She drags her nails down his mostly-exposed chest, and he takes the opportunity to flip her so she’s lying underneath him on the booth seat.

Pippa puts her hands over her eyes. “God, I can’t even look. He’s shameless! Such a pig. And apparently, he’s fine basically having sex in public.”

“At least he’s only your stepbrother. No one would look at you and think you’re related.”

“True.” She chuckles.

“And hey, even though he’s a total man-whore, he never hit onyou!God, that would be disgusting.”

“For sure,” Pippa says, though there isn’t much fire behind it. She looks down at the shot glass in her hand like she’s just remembered that it’s there. She throws it back and grabs my hand. “Come on, let’s go dance.”

Pippa tugs me toward the dance floor. She shouts something to me, but I can’t make it out as we get close to the pulsing speakers. I doubt it matters anyway, since as soon as we find a space on the floor, she starts swaying her hips.

So I mirror her movements and let myself go. When was the last time I was able to close my eyes, let my thoughts float away,and justbein my body? Even now, I feel an undercurrent of worry about money, about the shelter, about my family.

The pounding bass vibrates through me. The mood lighting lets me vanish into the crowd of people, just another anonymous member of the flock. I run my hands down my body and try to pretend I have no worries at all.

Around midnight,we finally stumble out of the club, tipsy and giggling. Pippa holds on tight to my arm to keep herself from falling in her heels.

“Why don’t we go dancing every night?” She sighs.

“Because we have jobs. And lives.”

“That’s dumb. We should just be pretty, perfect party girls.”

“Won’t that interfere with your plan of being the great voice of our generation?”?”

“Shut up.” She swats my arm playfully. “I’m a content creator who writes filler articles forBelladonna Magazine.It’s not like I’m some Pulitzer-winning novelist.”

I lean my head against her shoulder. “Don’t diminish it. Your writing is hilarious and incisive, and in my opinion, you’re a genius.”

She sighs. “From your lips to my editor’s ears.”

A white car pulls up, and I check the license plate against the one on Pippa’s phone. “Your Uber’s here, Pipsqueak. Text me when you get home.”

“I promise.” She hugs me tightly. “And don’t let Nate be mean to you. I don’t wanna fight him.”

“Are you sure? Because I think you could kick his ass.”

Pippa laughs and opens the back door of her car. “Beware of sexy billionaires, Cat. Don’t forget they’re all mostly evil.”

She blows me a kiss as her car drives away, leaving me to think about her advice. I know she’s mostly talking about her stepbrother. Pippa’s hated Ryan pretty much since the day she met him, and by extension, all of his friends. I don’t think anything they did would earn her good favor.

Still, could she be right about Nate? I’ve wanted to think that he helped me out because he’s a decent person under all those grunts and layers of grumpiness. Maybe I’m being naive, though. He’s a businessman through and through. He wouldn’t do anything that didn’t benefit him in some way.

But I can’t think of any selfish reason he’d have for trying to weasel his way into my life. It’s not like I have money, or whatever else it is men like him want.

Maybe he just wants to get into your pants, the Pippa-ish voice in my head reminds me.

If that were true, though, why didn’t he kiss me that night?

“Hey, lady! Hold up!” a rough male voice calls from behind me.