“You’re doing that British thing again,” Stella shouts over the music.
I glance down at her, brow furrowing, but I’m tempted to laugh nonetheless. Some of the things she says…they truly come out of nowhere. But fuck if it doesn’t get my mind off the thoughts that haunt me. “I’m sorry?”
“That.” She lifts a finger to motion to my face before contorting her mouth into a confused mix between a pitying smile and a grimace. “That face is very ‘my family is titled and I have a career that requires me to wear a powdered wig, but I swear I’m a man of the people.’ ” The statement is said in the worst attempt at an English accent I think I’ve ever heard. Like if Queen Elizabeth II grew up in Liverpool but was also somehow South African.
This time, I can’t hold back a guffaw. “Are you serious? I literally told you I’m a Formula 1 driver.”
“You didn’t deny the title,” she says, though she moves on before I can even try to do so. “Are you really having that awful a time, your highness?”
I hitch my chin higher to sell my forthcoming joke. “The proper address for me is ‘my lord.’ ”
Her eyes go wide. “Are you seri—”
“I’mkidding,” I interrupt, laughing as I bump her shoulder with mine. Americans. So gullible. “I don’t have a title.” My grandfather does, but she doesn’t need to know that. “And no, I’m not having that awful a time.”
“Maybe tell that to your face.”
“Well then, maybe someone should explain to my face why the bride and groom are currently trying to consume each other five feet away from us.”
I’ve been attempting to ignore it, to focus instead on the gorgeous woman beside me, but it’s hard to block out the two people practically dry humping at the front of the bus.
Stella leans forward to peer around me.
“Nowyou’redoing the British thing,” I point out when she produces a grimacing smile. “But I guess it’s nice to see just how in love they are.”
“Nah, it’s sickening,” she confirms. “Still happy for them, though.”
Something in her expression changes then, and her attention darts away from the entirely-too-happy couple. Instead, it settles on the woman who’s just dropped into a seat across from us. Even with the motion of the bus, the woman’s short hair doesn’t move a centimeter.
Her eyes narrow as she takes in the two of us, as if she’s not enjoying what she sees. When Stella suddenly throws her long legs across my knees like she’s claiming me and smirks back at the woman, I start to understand what’s going on here.
This is a game. And it probably has been all along, from the very second she laid eyes on me.
Stella sucks in a breath when I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side. I get a hit of her perfume as I do. It’s something sharp but sweet, like a citrus bloom off the coast of somewhere warm. Someplace I’ve been before and couldn’t get enough of.
I inhale it again as I bring my lips down to her ear. “Was I just a challenge to you?” I murmur, glancing at the other woman for a split second before returning my gaze to Stella. “Part of whatever game you’re playing?”
Her eyes swing up to mine, almost Bambi-like with their innocence, but she’s grinning. “It’s not exactly a game,” she says, not upset that I’ve caught on. I think she’sproudof me. “But would you be mad if I said you were part of it?”
“No,” I admit. I knew she was prowling from the start; the reason for it doesn’t matter. “I’m flattered you thought I wasgood enough to play along.” I spare another look at the woman, who’s frowning so deeply that I fear her face might get stuck that way. “Do you need more help with whatever it is you’re trying to prove to that woman?”
“I wouldn’t say no,” Stella muses. “But just so you’re aware, it wasn’t about you specifically. I mainly wanted to show her that I could act like a ‘nasty little slut’ if I wanted to.”
I blink, pulling back a little, though not letting her go. “Excuse me?”
“Her words, not mine,” she reassures, reaching up to pat my cheek. She’s clearly not going to explain past that. “But it’s cute how that ruffled you.”
“Not ruffled.” After all, those words have left my lips before, though only in the bedroom and only when agreed upon. “Just surprised.”
Her hand slips to my neck, fingers cool against my heated skin. “So…you still want to help me with proving that?”
I’m sure she can feel the way my pulse thuds at the base of my throat. That should be answer enough. I have questions, though. “That depends. Are you trying to prove it for real or just for appearances?”
Her touch stills, but her eyes stay locked on mine, searching for something, like maybe they hold the answer she’s looking for. The truth is,Idon’t even know what answer I’m hoping for. But with each drink and every second I spend with her, I’m starting to think I want to invite a little trouble into my life. Besides, it would only be for tonight. I don’t get the feeling she’d want more than that, and I’m not looking for it either.
“I haven’t quite decided yet,” she finally says.
I nod, free hand sliding over her thighs, skimming the feathered hem of her dress. I swear the woman across from us is about to explode with rage. “I can work with that.”
