Page 20 of Over the Edge

Then the limo jerked to a halt.

Oh, God. What was I doing?

I wrenched back, eyes wide and lips tingling with the ghost of his mouth. My heart was a riot inside my chest.

Flynn’s amber eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and his hair was mussed where my fingers had tangled in it. When had I done that?

He sat there, sprawled in the seat, his legs spread, his very obvious erection straining against his slacks.

He grinned. “Told you, princess.”

I glared at him and swiped my hand over my mouth, trying to erase the taste of him. “I didn’t scream your name.”

His laugh was low, rough, and supremely satisfied. “You will.”

My insides went all fluttery, and heat crawled up the back of my neck. I turned away, reaching for the door handle. “Keep dreaming, Shepherd.”

CHAPTER6

FLYNN

Lyric didn’t gointo the hotel.

She didn’t explain, simply climbed out of the limo and started walking. I didn’t argue. I didn’t say a word. I adjusted my still half-hard cock to avoid getting arrested for indecent exposure, then followed her, telling myself I wasn’t already in too deep.

Eventually, we ended up on the narrow, winding streets of Le Rocher.

The afternoon sunlight slanted between the ancient buildings, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. Monaco’s old town was a stark contrast to the glittering casinos and modern yachts that dominated the harbor view. Here, centuries-old buildings pressed in close, their weathered facades telling stories that predated the principality’s reputation for excess and glamour. Silk-scarved tourists posed for selfies, shopkeepers called out in French, and the scent of salt and sugar drifted through the air.

And Lyric moved as if she were on a mission.

I kept a careful distance, close enough to protect her if needed, far enough not to crowd her space. Whatever was driving her away from the hotel clearly needed room to breathe.

Finally, she stopped in front of a stand offering everything from coffee to gelato, and stared at the faded awning fluttering in the breeze.

She looked almost… lost.

I stopped beside her. “You walked all the way up here for gelato?”

She shook her head. “I need to not be Elisa Deveraux for five damn minutes.” She approached the stand, ordering a pistachio gelato in flawless French.

When the vendor looked to me in question, I ordered an espresso, also in pretty damn flawless French.

“What?” I felt her eyes on me as I pulled a few euros from my pocket to pay. “You really think Grim would send someone in who doesn’t speak the local language?”

“No.” She took her gelato from the vendor. “But men like you usually—I just didn’t expect…” She trailed off, eyes dropping to my mouth for a fraction of a second before looking away.

I accepted the change and my espresso, then held out a hand, indicating she should lead the way. “Didn’t expect a brain behind all my devastating good looks?”

“Something like that.” A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “Though I wouldn’t go as far as ‘devastating.’”

“You wound me, princess.” I watched as she licked a perfect stripe up the side of her gelato cone. The sight shouldn’t have been distracting. I shouldn’t have been tracking the movement of her tongue with such intensity. Definitely shouldn’t be picturing her doing the same to my cock.

I took a sip of my espresso, letting the bitter heat burn away thoughts I had no business entertaining. “Well, I didn’t expect you were a pistachio kind of woman. Figured you’d go for something more dramatic. Blood orange.”

“I like pistachio.”

“Is that Lyric talking, or Elisa?”

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