Page 42 of Double Apex

I lower my head and smile, then look at her through my eyelashes. She scowls, impervious to the attempt at charm.

“If you invite me in, we can look it up—a video of this police dog cartoon.”

“It’s… no, it’s not a police dog. For fuck’s sake. I’m explaining it wrong.” Down the hall, a door opens, and Phaedra gasps. “Shit!” she whispers, grabbing my shirt and yanking me inside. “Did you pass anyone in the hallway?”

“Only staff.”

“Oh, jolly,” she deadpans. “I’m assuming no hot maids, or you wouldn’t have made it this far—you’d be in the nearest broom closet, finagling her into a knee-trembler.”

“I do not know this word—finagle.” I raise an eyebrow. “But ‘knee-trembler’ is familiar.”

“What a shock. I’ll bet you got the rest from context.” She presses her ear to the door, listening for people in the hall.

I sit on the corner of her bed. “Thank you for inviting me in. I’d like to talk.”

She crosses to the window, tying her robe tighter and peering down at the expanse of Monte Carlo. “It was hardly an invitation,” she stage-whispers with annoyance. “I just don’t want anyone to see you. Reece promised not to rat me out to Klaus if I stay away from you.”

When she perches on the armrest of the love seat near the window and adjusts the robe to cover her leg, I stare at its smooth curve, the slender ankle, the high arch of her foot.

“Ah. She spoke with you as well.”

Phaedra nods, twisting the bathrobe tie. “Look, dude. Iappreciated your, uh,supportin Barcelona. Good times. But with the announcement that Mo’s on ‘family-related sabbatical,’ eyes are on me. Our, uh,afternoonon the boat was fun, obvi. But…” She chews her lower lip and shrugs.

“Do you have feelings for me, draga mea?”

“Like it matters,” she says immediately, her voice gruff.

I stand, closing the distance between us. When I touch Phaedra’s chin to coax her to look at me, she doesn’t flinch away.

“Your comment about ‘maids’ when I arrived implies you’re still angry about Shanghai.” My thumb brushes her lower lip. “But I have kept a secret from you.”

Her green eyes are dark, and I’m drawn to the rise and fall of her chest, a pale sliver of freckled skin at the open V of the robe. I undo her hair and arrange the long waves over her shoulders.

“I led you to believe that woman had been in my bed, but she hadn’t. She was simply a shy fan who took a bold risk to meet me before I left in the morning. She became embarrassed and cried. I felt sorry for her and arranged for her to have a race pass. End of story.”

Phaedra has her hands lightly on my waist; I’m not sure she’s aware of touching me.

“I kinda believe you. But it might be because you’re standing super close and smell incredible.” She touches her upper lip with her tongue. “You should probably leave.”

I bend to kiss the crown of her head. “Should,” I echo. My lips alight on her brow. “Could,” I add. Next, I slide myfingers through her hair, grasping her as I kiss the corner of her parted mouth. “Butwon’t. Because your roaming hands are asking me to stay.”

I pause with my mouth a centimeter from hers. We’re so close, our focus jumps back and forth to settle on each of the other’s eyes like birds testing branches.

Her mahogany lashes drop closed as I claim her lips, touching the upper one with my tongue where I just saw her do the same. Her right hand moves, fingers closing around the contour of my cock, leisurely stroking through my jeans. My rumble of encouragement vibrates into her mouth as our tongues explore, hot but unhurried.

“I have to taste you,” I murmur against her.

“Youaretasting me.”

With a wicked smile I pull my shirt off, then glide my hands down the warmth of her neck and skim over the robe. I tug the knot on her belt free before sliding inside.

“Everywhere, sweet one,” I clarify.

Her skin is soft and dewy from bathwater, and the lavender-mint scent rises with her own earthy-bright heat. I push the robe off her shoulders and straighten to take in the sight of her nakedness where she’s perched on the arm of the sofa. The sparkle of moonlight and boats on the inky sea frames her from the window behind.

“You’re at precisely the correct height,” I say, kneeling, “for me to savor.” I push her legs wide and place a kiss on the inside of her thigh. “I’ve been imagining this for months.” My whisper-light kisses move like footsteps tiptoeing to paradise.My hands stroke her ankles, the taut calves, the humid hollows at the backs of her knees.

As I trace up her thighs with my knuckles, she shifts toward me in offering. Her hands tangle into my hair. I brush both thumbs along her pink lips, flirt with her already glistening opening, then coast back up to expose her wet and swollen bud. She’s shaved underneath now, though the front is still a downy trapezoid the color of new pennies.

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