Page 87 of Made for Reign

“Ladies,” he nods to my friends. “See you tonight.”

As we walk toward the exit, I feel the weight of every female gaze in the room. I can’t blame them. Reign commands attention without even trying, his powerful frame and intense focus making him impossible to ignore.

“Was that true? About the stylist?” I ask once we’re in the hallway.

His lips quirk up at the corner. “No.”

“Then why?—”

“Because I’ve been in meetings for four hours while you were being pampered, and I couldn’t wait another minute to see you.” His voice drops lower. “Is that a problem?”

My heart flutters like I’m sixteen instead of twenty-three. “Not at all.”

The elevator doors slide open, and we step inside alone. The moment they close, Reign has me pressed against the wall, his mouth claiming mine with hungry urgency. I melt into him, my hands sliding into his hair, pulling him closer.

“Missed you,” he murmurs against my lips.

I smile into the kiss. “It’s been three hours.”

“Too long.” His hand cradles my face. “You’re addictive, Princess.”

The elevator chimes, forcing us apart as the doors open to the hotel lobby. Reign keeps his hand at the small of my back as we cross through the elegant space, nodding to the concierge who practically bows in response.

“What were you and your friends really talking about?” he asks as we enter another elevator that will take us to our floor. “You looked serious when I walked in.”

I hesitate, unsure how much to reveal. “They were just giving me the usual best friend advice.”

“About?” His eyes are too perceptive, missing nothing.

“About you. Us. This situation.” I fidget with the edge of my spa robe. “They think I’m making things too complicated.”

“Are you?”

The question hangs between us as the elevator ascends. Am I? Is there a simpler solution that I’m too afraid to see?

“Maybe I am,” I admit as the elevator continues its silent ascent. “But it’s not just about me.”

Reign’s fingers lift my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“Answer me one question. What do you want, Audrey? Not what Lucille wants. Not what’s expected of you. What do you want?”

His question strips away all my carefully constructed excuses. What do I want? I’ve spent so long considering everyone else’s needs and expectations that I’ve barely allowed myself to acknowledge my own desires.

“I want to be free,” I whisper, the truth of it settling deep in my bones. “I want to paint without hiding. I want to make my own choices.” I take a shaky breath. “I want you.”

Something fierce and possessive flashes in his eyes. “Then you’ll have it.”

NINETEEN

REIGN

Audrey sitsbetween my legs in the oversized tub, her bare back pressed against my chest, her wet hair slicked back from her face. My arms encircle her waist, keeping her anchored against me as hot water and jasmine-scented bubbles surround us. She’s holding the small crystal trophy they presented her with hours ago, turning it over in her hands like she’s still not convinced it’s real.

“I still can’t believe I won,” she whispers. Steam rises around us, fogging the massive bathroom mirror and blurring the San Diego skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I press my lips to her temple. “Believe it, Princess. That award is exactly where it belongs.”

“But there were so many incredible artists there.” She leans her head back against my shoulder, still cradling the trophy. “People who’ve been studying and creating their whole lives.”

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