Park Avenue Prince(32)

A small groan escaped Grace’s lips and suddenly she pulled away, almost as if she were ashamed she’d gotten so carried away. I released her, but couldn’t keep my eyes off her as she glanced around surreptitiously. She smoothed down her hair and turned away from me, then covered her mouth with both hands. “Your . . .” she whispered as if it were talking that would draw people’s attention. She waved her hand in front of my face. “It makes my face red.”#p#分页标题#e#

I stroked my face. She meant my stubble. I shaved every morning, but by the afternoon, I always had some regrowth. Her chin and mouth were a little reddened. I grinned, pleased she still wore the aftereffects of our kiss. How would she like my scruff grazing along her inner-thigh, across her pussy? It was my turn to swallow a groan.

How had I let her leave the other day without tasting her?

“You want normal shipping or the expedited option?” the sales clerk asked, pulling my attention away from Grace and her red, kiss-swollen lips.

“Expedited,” I replied without really thinking about it, distracted by the blonde beauty in front of me.

“Right, now a dining table and a bed,” she said as the clerk handed me my credit card.

“You know how this works, right?” I asked.

“How what works?” she asked, leading me toward some dining furniture.

“You get to push, I get to push. If that kiss was what I get for a coffee table, I’ll have to think up something suitable before you pick out stuff for the dining room.”

She trapped the side of her bottom lip with her teeth. “Well, let’s just look on the way to the exit,” she said. Maybe she thought she could convince me. Or maybe she thought I was going to kiss her again. Perhaps she wanted me to.

I followed her as she wandered around an area full of tables and chairs, watching her take in her surroundings. Eventually she spun to face me and shrugged. “Nope. There’s nothing here for you.” She grinned and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Scaredy-cat,” I said.

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not scared; I just don’t like these dining tables. It’s as simple as that.”

I tutted and stuffed my hands in my pockets. “I thought you had a little more grit, Grace Astor. You’ve fallen at the first hurdle.”

She walked toward the exit and I followed her.

“Is this how you get women? You blackmail them into a physical relationship with you?” she asked, her eyebrows pulling together in an adorable frown.

“Yeah.” I laughed. “All the time.” We waited side by side for the elevator, then rode down in silence.

As the doors opened, she asked, “What would you have made me do?”

“I wouldn’t make you do anything.”

“Okay then, what would have been the pay off?” she asked as she reached out to flag a cab.

I placed my hands on her shoulders and moved her away from the curb. Almost immediately, a cab pulled up beside us. I opened the door and indicated for Grace. As she slid inside, I said, “A tattoo.” How far could I push her? How far did I want to push her? All I knew was I’d enjoy the negotiation—the to and fro, her facial expressions as she weighed the pros and cons in her mind. As much as I wanted an art consultant, I wanted to spend time with Grace whether or not it was about art.

“Jesus, no way. That would be permanent.”

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Brooklyn,” she replied.

“And you’re getting a cab?” I chuckled. “No, you’re not a Park Avenue princess at all.” I thrust three twenties at the driver and shut the door.

As the taxi drove off, I watched it head down the street. I’d enjoyed my afternoon with Grace.

Next time, it would be more than a kiss.





“Christ, I’m sorry, Angie, I don’t know what to say.” I reached across the melamine table of the diner and covered her hand with mine. Angie had called when I’d gotten back to my apartment after shopping with Grace and asked me to meet her for lunch at the diner the following day.#p#分页标题#e#

“Fucking hell, Sam, don’t get emotional on me,” she said as she snatched her hand away. “Since when are you allowed to hold my hand?” Angie and I never did physical affection. No hugs. No air kisses. Nothing. Not ever. In a group home, casual affection was never on offer. As much as I’d teased Grace about being uncomfortable with public displays of affection, to be truthful, I wasn’t any more comfortable than she was.

“Fuck off, I’m not getting emotional. I just want you to be happy.” All I wanted was for her to be happy, have the family she’d never had.