Page 56 of Princess Claimed

“We do, darling.” Pride rises off Flame like it’s blazing inside him. “Glad you like it.”

“Did you design it?” I gesture around, taking in the high mirrored ceilings that, combined with the mix of traditional and modern chandeliers, cast light everywhere. It’s like we’re up amongst the stars, and at the moment all those stars are reflecting in Flame’s expressive blue eyes.

“Sure did.” He brushes back a lock of my long hair, freshly curled for the evening. “I design all our clubs and living quarters.”

I step closer toward him. “I thought you guys lived permanently in Freetown.”

“What would you like to drink?” Phil asks. His amber eyes are full of adoration, and his attention detonates inside me.

“Surprise me.” I one hundred percent expect that he’ll bring me a glass of whiskey, and also expect that it will be delicious.

One side of Phil’s mouth quirks up, and he heads toward the bar.

“Nope,” Flame says.

“No, what?”

Flame laughs. “Before we were so rudely interrupted, you asked if we always live in Freetown.”

“Oh, right.”

“We don’t, but Freetown has been our main base for quite a while.” His hand brushes over my bare shoulder. “Fuck you look hot in this dress.”

Remembering what I’m wearing, I feel naked for a second, but then more happiness swells inside me. My entire life I’ve dressed conservatively, modestly, and this dress is anything but. When we got to New York, the brothers took me to a boutique in an area called Soho, which was opened exclusively for me.

After I tried a few gorgeous, but slightly more reasonable choices, Flame dared me to try on this slinky, silver-sequined, mini-dress. I took his dare for fun, never imagining I’d actually wear a garment like this in public, but the men’s admiring eyes gave me courage, and I feel sexier than I have my entire life. That tight red dress and the glorious ball gown were both beyond gorgeous, but on the sexy scale neither held a candle to this one.

Practically naked, I feel fantastic and free.

“What’s going on between you and Boomer?” Flame asks.

“Boomer? Oh. You mean Phil.” That’s the nickname their master gave Phil. The nickname that he hates. “What do you mean?” My body heats. I’m about to incinerate.

Flame chuckles. “Don’t worry, darling. It’s all good. But it’s beyond obvious that while we were at DEFTA, you and Phil fucked. Fucked a lot.” His eyebrows bob a few times, and more heat rises inside me.

“It’s…I…We…”

Phil arrives with a glass in each hand, saving me from having to explain more to Flame. Good thing, because the more I go over the time Phil and I spent alone together, the surer I am that we did much more than simply fuck, as Flame put it. Phil and I fell in love—even if neither of us fully understands the concept or is willing to admit that it happened.

Phil offers me one of the glasses, his thick, sexy fingers wrapped around it, and my body throbs, aching to have those fingers on my skin or better yet, inside me again.

The cocktail he hands me is definitely not straight up whiskey. Several colors dance inside the glass, swirling around ice cubes shaped like hearts.

“What kind of drink is this?” I ask as our fingers brush.

His eyelids flicker, as if our brief contact affected him deeply. “You said to surprise you.”

“That I did.” Grinning, I take a tiny sip of the cocktail, and it’s beyond delicious—both sweet and sour, and slightly bitter with small hits of spices and heat. All the flavors play in my mouth, changing as the drink passes over my tongue and lingering long after I’ve swallowed. “Wow. That’s fantastic.”

Phil’s face breaks into a massive grin. “Bartender’s specialty.”

I take another sip, and it’s different than the first but equally wonderful. “Maybe I need to meet this bartender.”

Phil leans forward. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

His deep voice licks inside me, wrapping me in a cloak of possessiveness that fuels my internal heat.

The brothers claim they don’t do jealousy, but they also claim they don’t do love, and both emotions are flowing across the inches separating Phil and me at this moment.

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