Chapter 8
My heart is hammering in my chest as she spins toward Dean. I don’t know who the hell she is, but I intend to find out.
I know if I’d wanted to, I could’ve kissed her right then in my arms. Wanting to is not my problem, but wanting more—so much more.
Our kiss can wait a little longer. It’ll only make it that much better. Tonight won’t be enough with her. That’s for fucking certain.
Dean mumbles something to her, and she giggles, one of the sweetest fucking sounds I’ve ever heard. I need to hear it again, and again, and again. Burn it into my brain and my ears, and it still won’t be enough.
I make my way to the bench and sit down, enjoying the view she’s providing.
It’s weird to feel such a connection. We don’t know her, her name, or why she’s at this party, aside from her stepmother.
Yet here we are, sneaking away in the gardens and ignoring all responsibility just to spend more time with her. She’s beautiful, but I don’t think that’s the main thing that drew us to her.
She has an aura of kindness that’s intoxicating. I want to breathe it in repeatedly. Being around her in the midst of tonight is fresh air all on its own.
The song comes near the end as Dean and she dance, swaying and spinning around the floor.
He smiles, and his attention flicks up to me for a millisecond before dropping back down to her.
But that’s all I need to see. That’s the truest smile I’ve seen on his face in a long time. One that’s stretched all the way to his eyes.
The song ends, and not a second later, the next one is singing through the air. It’s honestly impressive how long the orchestra has gone without a break. Don’t they need to piss or something?
Stepping up to her, I take her hands, spinning her back across the floor. “Another?”
She smiles big, happiness beaming in her eyes. “I think we can manage another.”
“Good.” I twirl her again and again, steadying her when my other hand finds her waist.
Minutes fall away as we spin and sway, dancing to the music coming from the party. Song after song, Dean and I switch, each sharing moments with her in our arms.
We aren’t the Kensington boys here, with responsibility and expectation. We don’t have to have a smile on our face, but rather we do because we can’t help it.
She is the last thing I expected to come of this night. But the best thing I could’ve ever imagined.
Minutes turn to an hour or maybe more, time falling to the wayside in our happy bubble. Dean and I share stories of Mom, and she does the same of her parents, all of us opening up more and more until we each hold a piece of the other’s heart.
When the song Dean and she are dancing to comes to an end, he walks over and sits down next to me, beaming from ear to ear, our princess nervously striding over.
Something uncertain crosses her face before she turns and slowly starts pacing, walking in front of us.
“Are we going to be interrogated?” I chuckle.
She side-eyes me with a smirk. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Does that come with punishment? Because I would hate to have you punish me.” My voice drips with sarcasm.
She rolls her eyes, and I bite down on my bottom lip with a groan.
“Fire away, love.”
“Hmm,” she hums, strutting back and forth in the gazebo, her glistening blue gown swishing behind her. “Tell me … what your favorite color is.”
“Boring.” I cough. “Try again.” I pause and wink. “But mine’s blue.”
“Mine’s gray,” Dean chimes in with a smile of a schoolboy trying to impress his teacher.
“Good to know,” she whispers coyly.
“I think we get a question now, no?” Dean mutters, his voice commanding.
She stutter-steps nervously. “I suppose.”
Coming to a stop between us, she faces us, hands clasped at her back.
Dean thinks for a second before asking, “Which one of us do you prefer?”
She scoffs, her eyes widening, “I-I can’t answer that.”
“Why not?” Dean retorts. “Don’t want to break his heart? I get it.”
Her mouth opens and closes repeatedly. “Because I don’t know you well enough and because … I like you both for different reasons.”
A question pops into my mind, flowing out of my lips before I can stop myself. “Which one of us do you want to ki—”
“It’s my turn.” She silences me, continuing to pace, slowly drifting closer and closer to us with each passing. “Is a crappy stepmother the only reason you two were hiding outside?”
She must be able to read our minds or some shit because I swear she knows more about us than we know about ourselves.
Dean and I glance at each other for a second, and I offer an honest response. “Our dad.”
“What about him?” she pushes, her face straight, locked on to her mission.
“Straight to the point, huh?” I chuff, and she nods. “Isn’t it our question now?”
“Not yet.” She smirks, and I lift my hands up in defeat.
Stopping dead in her tracks between us, she sits down, her thighs pressing into ours.
“Look, if this is our only night, our only moment together, and you never see me again, I want to remember knowing the real you, not the masked men the rest of the world sees.”
A beat of silence passes between us, and I hold my breath, vulnerability creeping onto my chest.
“I know what it’s like to hide behind a persona.” She turns and looks up at me, her big blue eyes glimmering behind the mask. “Prince Charming, you do it with your smart remarks and smooth tongue.”
I hold back the comment of how smooth my tongue can be when put to work as she turns to Dean.
“My knight in shining armor, you hide in the back, observing and taking stock of the situation before participating, almost using him as a shield while you gauge the room.”
She swings her feet back and forth above the pavement, proud of her assessment.
“I’m a good judge of character. And I live in the quiet spaces of a room, noticing every micro-movement of someone’s expression.
Telling if they’re angry or sad, if they’ll take it out on me—” She freezes like she didn’t mean to say so much.
“I know what it’s like to pretend, and if I can only offer you one thing, I’ll offer you a little time where you don’t have to do that.
This gazebo can be our safe space. No metaphorical masks. ”
My throat is burning by the time she finishes, the emotion catching me by complete surprise. “I-I don’t know what to say.”
I don’t think I’ve ever been called out so goddamn plain as day. No one’s ever really had the balls for it, aside from Dean or our father.
I’m overwhelmed with emotion, and I have no idea how to process it. All I know is, I don’t want her to feel any ounce of regret for being her.
I don’t know who the hell she is, but I know that when she leaves tonight, I’m going to be a mess. No one has ever seen me—or us—so goddamn clearly. It’s unnerving, hot, and incredibly sexy.
“That’s okay. You don’t need to unmask. Maybe I read the room wrong.” She looks up at me with apologetic doe eyes. “Sorry, I kind of unloaded. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything—”
The urge overtakes me, and I cut her off, sliding my hand along her cheek, and in one fell swoop, I tilt her jaw up and meet my lips to hers. Tenderly, I kiss her, my lips melting against hers. But she’s frozen, and I pull back enough to meet her gaze.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked. I’m so sorry,” I ramble, praying that I didn’t just ruin everything.
“Kiss me again,” she orders, her voice steady and sure.
I don’t waste a second, colliding against her once more. Her hand slides along my waist, and goose bumps erupt down my back from her touch.
She leans into me more, and I deepen the kiss, running my tongue along the seam of her lips. A slight gasp vibrates into my mouth, and my dick throbs from the sound and sensation.
I can’t get enough of this.
Our tongues dance together with ease. I can tell she’s not practiced, but she’s learning fast, and fuck if that isn’t hot as hell. We’ll teach her everything she needs to know.
Not wanting to push her too far without checking in, I roll my forehead against hers and pull back, panting with desire. “Doing okay?”
“Great. Perfect. Better than ever.” She beams.
She licks her lips, and I nearly melt off this bench and fall to my knees at the sight.
Jesus, this girl already has me wrapped around her damn finger. But it doesn’t seem like I’m the only one.
Dean watches her with a burning fire in his gaze. She must feel the heat because she turns to him as he pouts, “And what about me?”
He trails his finger along the top of her thigh, exposed from the high slit in her dress. Her head whips my way, worry in her wide eyes.
“Trust me, you won’t hurt my feelings if you want both of us, Princess. We’ve never shared before, but I think we can make an exception for you.” I glance up at Dean, and he nods.
Turning back to him, she whispers, “Are you sure?”
Dean’s hand palms the top of her thigh, his fingertips sinking into her pillowy skin. He turns fully toward her, his pupils blown. “Let me show you how sure I am.”
Her head tilts back, their lips collide, and the sounds of their kiss electrify the air.
I reach forward, pulling her hair all to the back so it’s not in her face. Brushing it to the side, I plant a gentle kiss on the top of her shoulder. She jumps ever so slightly, but then she relaxes, melting into our embrace.
Throwing my leg over the bench, I straddle it, sliding all the way to her, her hip against my growing erection.
“You are so fucking sexy, Princess,” I whisper in her ear.
When I ghost my lips against the delicate skin on her neck, a shiver runs through her, and I chuckle darkly, enjoying watching her come apart between us.
Endless ideas flood my mind, each more depraved than the last.
Dean groans, and she throws her arms around his head, clearly enjoying herself. I make my way down her neck, kissing, licking, lapping at her skin until it’s reddened from my touch.
They slowly pull away from each other, and she sits up, her hands covering her face and her entire body blushing from what we just shared.
“That was … amazing.”