Page 29 of Bossy Wicked Prince

By the way she’s rambling, it’s obvious she’s had a few too many drinks. My cock has no business getting hard from just looking at her.

She looks stunning, her honey-blonde hair hanging loose in natural, messy curls that I want to sink my fingers into. Her shimmery dress emphasizes the golden undertones of her pale skin. She looked like a fairy back in Velvet & Vice, some magical creature flitting through the darkness.

My jaw clenches.

Earlier tonight, Ryan asked me to meet him for a drink at the club. We spent maybe half an hour catching up before some leggy redhead caught his attention. He called her over to our booth, and minutes later, he had her straddling him and grinding against him like they were the only two people in the room.

I was all too happy to take my cue to leave. Until I saw Cat, smiling and holding a glass of wine.

I should have gone upstairs the second I spotted her. Whatever Cat was doing at Velvet & Vice, it wasn’t my business.

Then Cat went to help a girl who tripped and was struggling to get back up in her too-high heels, leaving her drink completely unattended on a table where anyone could have slipped something in it. Granted, that wasn’t likely at Beau’s club, since he uses UPS security. But why the fuck wasn’t she being more vigilant? Pretty girls like her are catnip for predators.

I had to leave before I stormed down there and scolded her in front of the whole club. I texted the head of club security to keep an eye on her and went down to the gym to work out my frustration. When I didn’t hear from him, I assumed that meant she was still safe and dancing downstairs.

Instead, she’s in my living room. Staring at me.

“I–I should—go to bed, but maybe some water first,” she stammers.

She starts moving, apparently deciding to change direction in the middle of her sentence. With her concentration lost, she trips over her own heels.

Instinctively, I dive forward to catch her before she faceplants. Grabbing her arms, I pull her up and against me. I allow myself the indulgence of three seconds to smell her soap—vanilla and honey—before I pull away.

“Are you alright?”

Cat doesn’t answer. Her eyes go wide as she stares down at where my towel once was. Fuck. When I caught her, I apparently knocked the damn thing loose.

“That’s—you’re…” She ends there, apparently lost for words.

I bend to grab the towel and cover myself again before she can finish her sentence.

“I thought you were out,” I mutter.

“I was. Just got back, obviously.” She glances down again and giggles. “You shouldn’t just go walking around in a towel when you have guests, you'll give someone a heart attack, looking like that.”

I cock my head. “Like what?”

Cat throws her head back and laughs. “God,are those real? Or are they like implants or something?” To my shock, she runs her fingers across my abs. The feeling goes straight to my cock, which was already half-hard just from holding Cat upright.

I have to distract her. “Do I really seem like the kind of guy who gets ab implants?”

“Maybe. I don’t know you that well yet. If I want to be sure, I’d better check again.” Cat flattens her hand against my stomach and giggles. Fuck, does she have any idea what she’s doing to me? I would flex my abs for her if every fiber of my being wasn’t focused on not getting so hard that she can see my erection through my towel.

I can’t tell if she’s just being playful or if she’s actually coming on to me. I still can’t read Cat the way I can other people. Can she really be as sweet and innocent as she comes across?

Earlier, I was furious with her for recklessly abandoning her drink at the club. That anger has already ebbed away by now. Something about this woman after she’s had a few drinks is completely disarming.

Probably has something to do with the fact that she’s touching me.

I’m just glad she’shere, where I can see for myself that she’s safe.

“If you’re done groping me, we should probably get you back to your room.”

She pouts teasingly but drops her hand. I instantly miss her touch, which is beyond stupid. I should be putting as muchdistance between us as I can. Catworksfor me now. Any touch more intimate than a handshake is highly inappropriate.

Right now, I’m having trouble reaching the part of me that gives a fuck.

Setting my hand on her lower back, I lead her down the hallway toward the guest room. Even through her dress, I can feel the heat of her body. I wish I could let my hands wander a little. I want to feel the rest of her, the curve of her waist, the weight of her tight little ass?—