Playboy Princes: A Dark College Romance(46)

“Violet,” Rafe warned, like he could hear my thoughts.

With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and tried to think of anything other than the two princes.

Anything.

A warm hand landed on my stomach, another on my thigh. Neither of them belonged to the same person, and both of them moved in slow, hypnotic strokes across my skin. It was soothing, somehow, and I felt a little more tension leave as my eyelids drooped.

I had been tired for a long time, and maybe, just maybe, Jordan was right. I was going to sleep tonight.

The next morning, I woke to slow strokes across my spine, and my face was buried in someone’s chest. I didn’t open my eyes, wanting to enjoy this moment, the sensation of being held and touched like this.

To say I was surprised that all three of us were still in bed would be an understatement. I’d expected Rafe to leave early this morning, but maybe it was actually too early for that. I squinted a tiny bit to find the room was still dark.

“You awake, Princess?” Rafe drawled, his voice close to my ear. Rafe was the one I was half-sprawled over, but I’d somehow managed to get my legs tangled with Jordan’s. He had been asleep, only waking when Rafe spoke.

“What time is it?” I asked huskily.

“Too damn early,” Jordan replied, rolling onto his side and hauling me against his chest. “Go back to sleep.”

I snuggled into his embrace, fully agreeing. Rafe kept hold of my hand that had been draped on his chest, linking our fingers together in that cute, couple kind of way. It hurt my soul because every sweet gesture, every new depth we uncovered in this... whatever the fuck this was... it took me two steps closer to getting my heart broken again.

Suddenly consumed with negativity to the point of feeling physically ill, I extracted myself from Jordan's arms and wriggled off the bed. Dodging two sets of curious eyes, I stretched my arms over my head and yawned.

"We should get breakfast or something," I suggested like a totally awkward loser. Ugh, there should be a handbook on how to handle waking up in bed with two playboy princes who'd both become intimately acquainted with my vagina.

Right when the weight of their assessing stares was getting next level uncomfortable, my palm reader buzzed against my wrist with an incoming call, and I sighed in relief. "Thank fuck," I muttered under my breath, checking the caller before clicking answer call.

"Hey girl," I said, turning away from the delicious meals lying in my bed. "What's up?"

"What's up?" she snapped back, her voice carrying through the room, seeing as I'd answered on loudspeaker. "What's up with you, dirty bitch? I've been trying to get hold of you all morning, and neither Jordan or Rafe were in their rooms. Know anything about that?"

"Uh..." I couldn't help myself; I shot a look at the two of them. Damn them straight to hell, they just looked casual as shit, grinning at me all smug-like. "Wait, all morning? What time is it?"

"Almost one," she replied, and the background noise sounded like she was in the dining room. "Want me to grab you some food to go? Alex is here with a face like a smacked ass, so I don't recommend coming down yourself."

"Shit," I cursed, running a hand over my loose braid and tugging the end anxiously. Mattie and I had hair and makeup appointments in less than half an hour, and I still had no idea what I was wearing for the Spring Ball. Mattie swore she had it all taken care of, and I was sure she did. But I still wanted to have some idea whether to prepare for a pink meringue dress or not.

Mattie just laughed and said something about bringing me coffee before ending the call, and I whirled around to glare at my bodyguards.

"Did you know what time it was?" I demanded, uncertain which of them I should be glaring at harder.

Neither of them looked shocked, so I was going to assume they did. Bastards.

"You slept well, though, didn't you?" Jordan pointed out with a yawn. "And so did we."

Exasperated, I threw my hands in the air, mentally tallying all the things I needed to do. "Mattie's on her way," I told them. "Let her in when she gets here?"

Without waiting for them to agree, I scurried my ass into the bathroom and closed the door tightly behind me. If I were being totally honest, the biggest reason for my frayed nerves was still in my bedroom. Both of them. But that was an issue for future Violet to deal with.

We had a ball to prepare for, and—regretfully—I had my ex-boyfriend's parents to meet.





Chapter 34





"You look stunning," Mattie breathed, her eyes wide as I turned to face her. The hair and makeup artists had just finished, and I had to admit... they’d done an incredible job. My dress was purple, a deep, rich color that reminded me of berries. It was tight at the top, the material crossing over my body with a single shoulder strap. And the skirt, it was full and puffy. Proper princess mode.

“How did you get it to fit so perfectly?” I asked, twirling and admiring myself like a proper narcissist. I mean, legit, if there was one moment you needed to be self-focused, it was when dressed like a freaking supermodel.

“I measured you while you were asleep,” she replied casually.

I stopped twirling, blinking at her. “I mean, that’s…”

“Creative? Ingenious?”

“Creepy,” I said with a snort of laughter. “Super fucking creepy, but I can’t complain about the end result.”

Mattie shrugged like she didn’t really care about the creep factor of her actions, then grinned. “In all seriousness, you don’t sleep long or soundly enough for me to try anything like that. I stole one of your dresses, and the designer worked from that.”

That did make more sense. Especially recently.

“You did pretty good with your dress as well,” I said with fake casualness. “I mean, if you’re into that whole glamor queen, goddess, dropped-from-the-heavens sort of look.”

Mattie wore gold, the sort of shimmery gold that caught and held the eye without need for any further adornment. Unlike mine, hers didn’t have a full skirt; instead it was slimline, skimming and holding to her body and showcasing her very impressive assets. It was low cut in the front, tits way out for the world to see, and to make it even more intense, was equally low cut in the back.

If by equally, I meant right down to the top of her ass.

Her hair was dead straight, her eyes winged like motherfuckers, and with gold shimmer on every inch of exposed skin, one might think a literal goddess had been dropped in their midst.

“This is my favorite designer,” she said with a twirl of her own. “Cami Loren. She is a legit genius, and I won’t wear a gown not by her.”

I looked down at my own. “Is mine by her too?”

Mattie looked at me like I was insane. “Uh, yes. That’s why it’s so fucking bangin’”

There was a knock on the door then, and I jumped because I’d sort of forgotten that the real world was waiting out there and that Mattie and I hadn’t just spent hours being plucked, prodded, made up and dressed so we could stand around her room and admire ourselves.

“Our dates have arrived,” Mattie squealed, hurrying over to open the door.

“You mean your dates. I have to make an appearance with Ale…”

My words dried up as I got my first look at the two princes in the doorway.

Fuck me sideways and dead.

Rafe and Jordan. Side by side. Both in fancy black suits. Their outfits were clearly custom made to fit their broad shoulders and tapered down to slim hips. Jordan actually wore a tie with his, but Rafe’s was open collar, and as he moved, I caught a tantalizing glimpse of bronze skin.

“Jesus, Violet,” Jordan said as he stalked closer to me, his long-legged strides eating up the distance between us in seconds. “You look unbelievably beautiful.”

He caught and held my gaze, and it was like he’d never seen another chick in his life.

The intensity…

I swallowed hard. “Thanks. I mean, this is all just a fancy designer dress and Mattie’s makeup chick. I didn’t really do anything.”

Rafe’s laugh was low and raspy, and I almost arched my spine as that sound caressed my ears.

“The wrappings have nothing on the present,” he said, finally moving closer. Side by side with Jordan, it was obvious he was a tiny bit taller, a little broader, and a lot darker. But Jordan more than held his own, one of the few men in the world—that I knew of anyway—who could come close to touching the Fallen Angel beauty of Rafe.

His fighting persona was an apt description.

“I already hate tonight,” I whispered, some of my vulnerability appearing. “Watching you two dance with other women, having to touch Alex, that fucking piece of shit.”

Knowing my luck, Brandon would be there too, probably teaming up with Claudette to commit some atrocity toward me.

I mean, I hadn’t seen his pathetic face since the fight, but no doubt he’d had time now to lick his wounds and would be raring for some revenge.

Rafe wrapped his hand around the back of my neck in a sudden, possessive sort of move. Now normally, with anyone else, I would have fought against this type of hold, but with Rafe, I just wanted to step closer. Press against him. Have him strip this fucking dress, which had taken ten minutes just to get on, right off me.

A low rumble filled the space between us, and I realized it was from him. “Tonight is the last night we do this with Alex,” he said softly, but with a deadly undertone. “After this, I don’t care what we have to pay, we are going to end this bullshit.”