Page 19 of Underground Prince

Matt was forty-five minutes late.

A sole candle was centered at the coffee table and was the only light in the apartment. The dancing flame added a romantic effect, but the soft glow was for an entirely different purpose. When holding my hand up against the flame, my shakes were less noticeable.

After another ten minutes and a few circumspect sips of college cabernet, I was about to ditch this whole thing and go out and find someone more reliable when a rap of knuckles finally sounded.

“One sec!” I called, pulling my robe apart just enough to show a few shells of black lace.

When I answered the knock, a forearm was propped against the frame, lean, toned and thick with tendons. The type of arm that would lead gunfights and put out house fires.

Matt's were better prepared for beating egg whites, so what was—

“Hey,” he said.

I slammed the door, crashing into it and tugging my robe closed.

Theo was in my hallway.

A soft knock thumped behind me. “Scarlet?”

The front of me was now decent, sash tied, satin barrier achieved. One last face-palm and plea to the ceiling, and I was ready to receive the tall drink of sexpot lingering outside my apartment for no apparent reason.

“Oh. Hey,” I said as I creaked the door open. The slow moan of the hinges matched this moment perfectly.

“Am I…” Theo peered over my shoulder, probably taking in the candlelight. My robe. Remembering my scalloped lace bra. Aaaand likely my belly button. “…Interrupting something?”

“Not at all.” Because I dress like this every Tuesday night. “What, uh—”

“Verily told me you were her new roommate.” He held out a roll of bills tied with elastic. “Your pay, including tips. From Saturday night.”

He laid the roll in my palm, and the tips of his fingers grazing my skin zipped from my palm down to my toes. Great. My body understood before my mind did that what Theo just did to me in a millisecond was more than Matt could ever do in an hour.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes, yep.” I added a hip cock for nonchalant effect. Then my mouth ruined it. “Do you want to come in?”

His scratched the back of his head with a tiny crook to his lips. “You sure?”

It was a smile full of promises. It showed just a sliver of his teeth, a devilish grin that said, If you’re in, I’m in.

We wouldn’t make it to the bedroom. One look at him and I knew we’d finish on the floor.

“Tell you what,” he said, and I was mortified. He’d registered my hesitation. I was that obvious, and in my entire life, I’d never been that transparent. “Let’s go somewhere.”

My vision blurred and I pictured myself tangling my fingers in the fabric of his shirt and saying, I have a better idea.

“Sure.” I cleared my throat. Hopefully my dirty mind would follow suit. “Come in for a minute.”

I opened the door wider for him to step in. He scanned the apartment, the white paint and the various accoutrements that Verily found online pinned to the walls, such as planks of wood with vintage doorknobs doubling as hooks. The window was open, allowing a cool breeze to bathe my overheated skin and rippling the sheer white curtains on the far wall. The candle’s flame flickered uneasily.

“I’ll just be a sec,” I said, gesturing to our couch. Then I remembered my manners. “Crap—shit, I mean, do you want something to drink?”

And this, right here, was the waitress he hired.

“No. Thank you.” He sat, throwing an arm over the back of the couch, and that one movement deleted everything Verily and replaced it with him. He dominated this small apartment, with his spiced scent and carnal eyes. His every shift contained a sexual masculinity. He attracted. He dominated. Consumed.

Predator.

This was a man young Scarlet would’ve run from. But me, well, I was sensing the early twitches of a lunge toward him.

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