The gorgeous Singarti prince's arm feels hard and muscled under my hand as I follow him onto the dance floor. He looks like he belongs here, in this dream-like setting that doesn't feel quite real.

I was focused almost entirely on my dress for tonight. I almost forgot that I was going to the biggest party of the year, the one where every invitation is coveted. Seeing this place has me remembering that fact. The ballroom is more beautiful than I could have expected or imagined. When I first stepped inside, I had to just stop and look around for a moment, stunned.

The complex musical notes twinning with the pretty light displays near the high ceiling add a whimsical feel to the room that I didn’t expect. The way the floor colors shimmer and change charms me.

Waiters walk around with trays of pretty food in tiny pieces, making their way through the glittering crowd unobtrusively, their black uniforms easily identifiable but not drawing attention from the guests' clothing.

And the clothing is really the show, isn't it? I know it is for me. Everywhere I look, there are examples of dresses from well-known designer labels. These dresses cost more than most people make in a year, and I’ve never seen any of them in person. There doesn't seem to be any one style either—sedate ball gowns stand next to skintight dresses and skirt-and-top combinations.

I’d have to say that the overall theme would be “over-the-top.” Tiaras and sequins and glittery makeup seem to be popular, in many cases, all of them put together on one person.

Am I underdone? I touch my hair a little self-consciously. But I know I don’t want to look like that. I had Gwenda keep the hair and makeup simple, not wanting anything to compete with the dress.

As we reach the dance floor, my attention goes back to my dance partner. Tall and broad-shouldered, he fills out the white tuxedo jacket flawlessly. It's obviously custom made to fit his powerful body, to show off his muscled frame. The black bow tie at his throat contrasts crisply with the starched white shirt, showing off his strong, tanned throat. With his black pants, his clothes present a classic air of elegance. He isn't trying to be the most fashionable person there. I like the understated tuxedo. If he tried to be too trendy, it might be too much with his good looks.

His dark blonde hair is swept off his face, highlighting the strong contours, the high cheekbones, the hollows of his cheeks, the strong jaw line and straight nose. He's clean-shaven, no hair to distract from the arresting beauty of his face.

His dark green eyes watch me as he pulls me in against him. I don't know what he's thinking, but I looks like his attention is all on me. It's flattering and also a little frightening.

As my feet hit the dance floor, I have a small panic attack as I remember I really don't know how to dance. What was I thinking when I accepted? What if I make a fool of myself? Too late to bow out now.

The music starts, and he starts moving us to flow along with it. It is a kind of waltz, something I'm not familiar with as I feared, but he's good at guiding me.

He leans in, a smile in his eyes. "Just follow my lead," he says. "There's nothing to it."

"Is it that obvious?" I ask, blushing a little.

He smiles. "Not if you act like you know what you're doing," he says softly. "Just like with everything in life."

I can't help smiling back at that. I follow his lead and hope I do well enough that he won't notice my lack of coordination.

As I meet his eyes and we start to twirl through the crowd, I'm more aware than I should be of the heat of his palm on mine, the strength of the arm that he has wrapped around my waist.

He isn't holding me so close that it's improper, but there's something about him that makes my heart race regardless.

"Your dress is exquisite," he remarks in that low voice as we continue to move, his eyes focused on my face even as he manages to avoid the other couples. He's well practiced at this, although I guess that shouldn't be a surprise.

I can't help but grin at that compliment. It's exactly the one I hoped to get, the one that I appreciate the most.

"Thank you," I say, glancing around at the crowd around us. I can see that people are watching us, but that could just be due to the fact that I'm dancing with this beautiful Singarti prince. He would draw attention anywhere, even here, where everyone is trying to outdo each other.

They're probably just watching us because they're wondering why he'd be dancing with me.

I have no idea if anyone is really even noticing my dress, or if the Prince even means what he says. Will anyone even take an actual interest in what I'm wearing?

Now that I'm here, I have no idea how to go about talking to people about it. Do I wait for someone to come up to me asked me where I got it? How will I make contact with a potential sponsor? This is so much more complicated than I'd thought it would be.

I only really thought about to finishing the dress and showing up wearing it. Maybe I should have thought more about my approach when I actually got here.

"Are you looking for someone else?" the prince asks, humor clear in his voice.

I quickly turn my attention back to him, worried I might have offended him. Nice going, Elle.

"No!" I say a little too loudly. "No. I'm sorry," I say with a small smile, lowering my voice. "It's just that everything is so pretty. The ballroom, the people, the clothes. I just wanted to look around a little."

His smiles back at me, his eyes twinkling. "Why, thank you. I'm glad you're enjoying the atmosphere."

I gasp. Does he mean...?

"Oh, are you the prince who's hosting this cotillion?" I ask, surprised.

He nods, his smile widening. "Indeed, I am. And I really am glad you're appreciating all the details."

Okay, now this makes sense. It explains why everyone seems to be sneaking glances at us. They're watching my partner. I feel a sinking feeling in my stomach.

If they're just watching him, that means the attention isn't for my dress after all. But I quickly shake the feeling off. There is no room right now for any kind negative emotion.

I'm at the cotillion, wearing a dress I'm so proud of, and I'm dancing with the most handsome prince here. One that actually seems to be interested in me. I'm determined to enjoy this, damn it. I deserve to enjoy it. I'm tired of always worrying and stressing about everything.

The prince's eyes drop to my lips as I lick them. They darken with clear interest.

I feel an answering wave of heat rise up inside me in response. My heart is already beating faster, the heat low in my belly unmistakable.

Is this really happening? Am I at this ball, dancing with this man?

I bite my lip as I continue to follow his lead, my skirt swaying with the smooth movements as I consider him. Everyone else dreams of Prince Charming...is there any reason why I can't have him, at least for tonight?

I scan his handsome face as I slide my fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. His eyes rise to meet mine again, half-lidded and full of unmistakable desire. He wants me. I know I'm riding the high of actually having made it here. Here, at the cotillion, with a dress that I love that I created myself.

Maybe I'm not thinking logically right now. So what?

When I spoke to Isa, I encouraged her to get her virginity out of the way with Gideon. He was hot at least, and he obviously wanted her. Why couldn't I do the same with this beautiful prince who is easily the hottest guy I have ever met and who obviously wants me too?

He's charming, handsome, and I don't think he'll refuse. What more could I ask for in my first time? My mind flashes back to Herne, the way he touched me, the way he made me come. The feel and warmth of his body, his conversation, the way he made me feel...

I feel a pang in the vicinity of my heart, but I push it away immediately. Herne gave me the invitation for this cotillion, but he didn't ask for my number. He didn't give me his. He didn't want to stay in contact.

I was most likely just a one-night dalliance for him. He thought he could maybe do more with me tonight if I showed up. I feel determination rising up in me at that thought. He didn't really want me. He just wanted a night of pleasure.

Then why can't I have the same?

I take a small step closer and my prince automatically tightens his grip. The front of my body is pressed against his in a long line, not a whisper of space left between us. I can feel his interest pressed up against my stomach.

Hard, thick, long.

Another flash of heat hits me. I want him. He seems agreeable enough. And I bet he would be amazingly good at it. This is a man who doesn't just have experience. This is a man who would know exactly what to do. One who could make me feel good.

I want all of that heat and expertise aimed at me. Now, while I feel on top of the world, while I have the courage to reach for what I want, while I feel more beautiful than I ever have before.

I'm a grown woman.

I know what I want.

Why the hell not?