Park Avenue Prince(41)

I wanted to know every last thought in his head.





Chapter Thirteen

Sam





We pulled up outside Grace’s apartment building and I felt the loss of her warmth the instant I let go of her hand so she could get out of the car. “Let me get your door,” I said. I quickly exited my side of the car, rounded the trunk and opened her door to find her again. She grinned up at me. God damn that smile of hers.

“You didn’t need to,” she said, but something in that smile told me she liked me opening the door for her.

We took small steps to the door of her apartment, prolonging every moment of our perfect evening.

I couldn’t believe I almost hadn’t asked her on a date. I’d been three seconds away from missing out on the best night of my life.

Grace put the key into the lock with her left hand, even though I knew she was right-handed. She didn’t want to let go either. But we’d have to go our separate ways eventually.

She stepped inside and snapped her head around when I didn’t follow.

“I think I should go.” There were a lot of reasons I shouldn’t cross the threshold. For one, I didn’t want her to think tonight had all been about sex for me. I liked this girl—to talk to and spend time with, not just sleep with. I’d begun to want more from her. I’d wanted to blow her away—for her to be impressed. For her to like me, too.

And that terrified me.

I was in new territory without a plan.

“Oh.” The smile in her eyes dissolved. “I get it,” she said, her voice flat. She didn’t get it at all. I wanted to stay. I wasn’t rejecting her.

“I think maybe it’s best.” How did I explain that I didn’t want to spoil anything by coming inside because I wasn’t sure what happened after this? I had no experience, no way of navigating what came next.

Her gaze hit the floor. I’d created her disappointment and I hated that I had. “You want me to come in?” I asked. Was she sure? Did she know any better than me?

“Not if you don’t want to.”

Jesus. Of course I wanted to.

“I get it. It’s fine.”

“I really want to come in,” I said, stroking my finger down her jaw and under her chin, lifting it so I could see those beautiful blue eyes. She looked up at me, her brows drawn together. “I just don’t know how this goes.” Could I not know what happened next and be okay with that? Could I want more from her?

I knew that wanting led to disappointment.

“You don’t know how this goes?” she asked.

I shrugged and took my hand away from her face. Unwittingly, I’d shown her parts of myself no one ever got to see. I wasn’t sure I was capable of giving her anything more. I was midway through a marathon I hadn’t trained for. My muscles were weak and my lungs were empty.

Because it was what we did, she could have made a joke, given me shit. But she didn’t. She seemed to understand where my boundaries were better than I did.

“Me either. Let’s find out together,” she said.

She turned and went inside and, as if she were my oxygen, I followed her. I couldn’t do anything else.

“Grace,” I called out.

“In here.” I followed the sound of her voice, my feet sinking into the thick pile of the rug in her hallway. Her home was as sophisticated as she was. Modern chandeliers hung from the ceilings. The grays and silvers on the walls, floors and furniture blended together without matching in a way that expensively decorated places managed. It wasn’t the apartment of any ordinary twentysomething living in Brooklyn. You could take the princess off Park Avenue, but you couldn’t take Park Avenue out of the girl.

“In a bed this time.” She stood facing me from the corner of her bedroom and kicked her shoes off.

“You’re impatient,” I said. She wanted me and that felt good. Perhaps it didn’t matter what came next. We’d managed so far.

“I’ve waited all evening.” She fiddled with the fastening of her skirt, but I stepped forward and batted her hand away.

“If we’re going to do this, then I want to take my time.” I slid one hand around her waist and cupped her face with my other.

“There’s an if?”

There wasn’t an if. Not now that we were here. I’d have her tonight, but it wasn’t just about getting off, scratching an itch, and I wanted her to get that. “There’s no rush, Grace Astor.” I smoothed my hand down her neck, mesmerized by her milky-white skin.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pulled her between my knees. I could see her better like this. I unbuttoned her blouse, raising an eyebrow when she tried to help. She dropped her hands and let me work the small blue buttons through their holes. I parted the sides of her shirt to reveal a lacey white bra. “This, I like.” I ran my forefinger under the edges of the cup opening, relishing the feel of the rough lace on one side of my finger and her smooth skin on the other. Her nipples pebbled and I resisted the urge I had to pinch, bite, suck. My dick pressed against the seam in my pants.

Fuck she was so sweet.

I tugged her shirt from her and reached under her skirt. “This room is so perfect. The carpet, the cushions, the comforter. We’re going to mess it up a little bit. You know that, right?”