Maybe Michael and my father were right. Maybe I was a fool thinking I could do this.

The problem was I couldn’t help it. I liked him. And that was going to be a problem for me because I couldn’t have the prince.

In the last week since the shooting happened, I reminded myself of that fact every day. I was performing a job function. Nothing more. But that didn’t stop me from running out the door toward the bar to meet him like a woman who didn’t know she was going to get hurt.

Since the shooting I’d been extra paranoid. I hadn’t been able to force myself to leave his side. And what’s more, he seemed to enjoy my company and we’d been spending more and more time together. It was a good thing because I was running out of time. Three weeks.

You want to get close.

I did. But I could do my job and get him home where it was safe. I could separate my feelings. Couldn’t I?

He didn’t make it easy though. Because every time I was with him, he kept looking at me like he wanted to cross the line of friendship, and it made me want to cross it too.

Besides seeing me, he spent a fair amount of time with Lucas. When he was out with Lucas, Ariel and I had to work double duty with Blake Security. We had to keep from being seen and keep them both from doing something idiotic. Usually Lucas.

Since last week though, Sebastian had started inviting me out with them. That made things a lot easier. And thankfully, Ariel was damn good at disguises, so if she was on follow duty even I had a hard time recognizing her.

I yanked open the door of the bar, and the place was empty. Sebastian was behind the bar stocking bottles. He looked up with an easy smile. "I was wondering if you’d show up."

I shrugged and held up my laptop. "About the pictures that we took … I figured I could edit them. I had an idea for taking these and turning them into canvas prints with paint, so we'll see how it works."

He grinned at me. "Perfect. Can't wait to see what our progeny look like." I froze. He didn't seem to realize what he’d said.

I was an idiot. He clearly didn't mean my children with him. What was wrong with me? I was getting all caught up in believing the hype. Just because we were friends here didn't mean we were actually friends.

It certainly didn't mean he wanted me. Although the way he kissed me last week said otherwise. To him I was just a walk on the wild commoner side. If we were at home, this wouldn’t stick.

No. I’d promised myself I was going to forget that kiss.

The problem was I liked him … a lot. Whether or not that was entirely appropriate was the question.

"Yeah, open it up. I'll show you how to do some shading and messing around in Photoshop. We’ll change the make-up of the images, and you can use them to make whatever art and painting you want to."

"That would be awesome. Thank you. Once I saw some of the pictures I had an idea, and I can't seem to let it go."

He continued stocking. "We’ll take a look. Just give me a few minutes to finish up."

I took my usual seat. But even as I opened the laptop, I couldn’t help but watch him. "Actually, there's something else I'd like to learn."

He laughed. "Oh boy. Does this particular skill require me to hide or sneak in anywhere?"

"No. And that was not my fault. I did not know it was a private affair. I just saw the event listed and figured we go." There’d been a gallery opening I wanted to attend. How was I supposed to know it was a closed event?

"You know what? At least life with you is never dull." He planted his arms on the bar, and my gaze was immediately drawn to his strong, tanned forearms. "So, what do you want to learn?"

"Can you teach me how to bartend?"

His brow furrowed. "You want to learn how to make drinks?"

"I've never done it. I've never even waited tables or anything like that."

"Seriously?"

"Nope. I've always just worked for my parents. You know, as an … uh, intern. File this. Answer that call. Fetch me coffee. This looks far more fun."

“What the lady wants, the lady gets! Come on around. I can show you how to do a couple things. What do you want to learn how to make?"

The words were out of my mouth before I could even think to recall them. "Teach me how to do a blow job."

His gaze immediately dropped to my lips. Suddenly I felt too hot, my skin too tight.

His voice went low and husky. "Are you sure you want to start with that? If you want we could start easy. Those can get a little complicated."

I shook my head. "Nope. That's where I want to start. They were so delicious."

Sebastian threw his head back and let out a roar of laughter. It was only then that I realized exactly what I'd asked him to help me make, and the innuendo that followed after.

My face flamed. "Shit. That's not what I meant."

* * *

Sebastian …

Oh shit. I tried to shove my mind away from the automatic place it went. Somewhere very dirty, somewhere damn near euphoric. The idea of teaching her how to do a blow job just the way I liked it. Jesus Christ. I stared at her blankly for a moment. Thinking, willing my brain to come on line. And when it finally did, I shook my head a little bit. “The shot. Right. The girly drink from the other night."

She nodded. Of course. “It kind of tasted like chocolate. And as an added bonus, it was on fire. So of course, I’d like to make that."

Right. I’d teach her how to make that. Because teaching her how to give a blow job was not on the appropriate list of what friends to do. And I was the one who’d made that distinction after I kissed her at my apartment. I wanted to make sure that she understood that I didn't have time for a relationship. We didn't have time for any of this. Except now, with her standing in front of me with her cocky, sassy smile, all I wanted to do was kiss her again and touch her and teach her how to give blow jobs. Make. I meant how to make blow jobs. Fuck. "Sure. I'll just go get more Kahlua."

“But isn't there some—“

I disappeared behind the bar and went into the back hallway. Yes. There was plenty of Kahlua out there. But I needed a fucking minute. She was standing there all soft and warm and sexy, and fuck she smelled amazing. I didn't know what it was but it reminded me of home, and all I wanted to do was kiss her again. I really wanted to do a fuck lot more than just kiss her.

But I wasn't going to because that's not why I was here. I had another couple of weeks at best before my little excursion would be called off and I’d be forced to go back home. But I wasn't going without Lucas. They needed Lucas. Because once the vote was done and my father had enough support to officially make Lucas royalty, then I would be free.

Properly free. Not this bullshit rendition where I always saw myself somehow being dragged or forced back. And that's what I had to focus on. Not Len. Not my memory of her lips, or the way she parted them on a gasp, or how she tasted like sweet spice, injecting my veins with pure lust and adrenaline.

No. A girl like that needed permanence. As the prince, I couldn’t be what she needed. Someone who understood duty and honor. According to law in the Winston Isles, I couldn’t even have her if I wanted to because she had no royal blood. Like my father, some kind of suitable wife from some noble family would be chosen for me.

And I was not looking for complicated. I was looking for the ultimate freedom … from the crown, from everything. Where I could just chase the sunlight and the perfect shots and that was all that mattered. Beholden to no one.

I knew she understood. She was an artist. Of course, she understood the need to not be encumbered, the need to not be forced into a rigid box. Wasn’t that why she had left her family?

"Hey, you? I was trying to tell you there was plenty of Kahlua out there."

In the dimness of the storeroom, the soft light danced and lit her skin, making it look luminescent. "I must not have seen it. Let's get back to the bar, and I'll teach you how to make that drink."

She put the bottle down on the counter and followed me, crossing her arms. "What gives? You’re acting weird. Weirder than normal."

"How do you know I’m acting weird?" I swallowed hard. "You barely know me. For all you know, this is completely normal behavior."

"Sure. I'll buy it. It’s like you’re trying to avoid me, and I don't know why. Did I do something? Did I say something? Or you heard of my terrible bartending skills and you refuse to teach me?"

I shook my head. I had to get out of this small, confined space with her. “No. Let’s go. Let’s get back out there and make the drink."

She shook her head. "No. Tell me what's going on. A minute ago, you were fine. Next thing I know, you’re running from me and hiding in here."

The words were out before I could stop them. "Because I am fucking dying to kiss you. Because I’m literally dying to teach you how to do a blow job. Just not the kind you’re thinking.”

I pushed away from the opposite counter and advanced toward her. "Ever since that night with the mouse in your place, it's all I’ve been thinking about. Then there was that kiss in my apartment. I know you feel it too. The pull into each other’s orbit. And then of course, I've already seen that ridiculous body you have hiding under those clothes. It should be illegal for you to wear clothes. And you’re distracting me from what I’m supposed to be doing. I can still fucking feel the imprint of your body against mine."

She stared at me, lips parted, eyes wide, every part the innocent ingénue. She had no idea what she was doing to me. "But I—”

"Jesus. You don't even know how sexy you are, do you? And there's something so fucking familiar about you. Like every time I talk to you I’m coming home. And I can't seem to stop that feeling. And it's the last fucking thing I need right now."

She squared her shoulders. "Then why even hang out with me? I’ve been minding my own business."

I threw up my hands with each word, my voice rising. "Minding your own business? First, there was your ass sticking in the air, taunting me, tempting me. Next time I see you, you’re half naked from the shower. Then you're at the club, saving me from overzealous women and I break a little and fucking sniff you. What is that even? I have never done that before in my life. You're everywhere. Under my fucking skin. I can’t escape you even when I try, for fuck’s sake.”

She blinked rapidly. “I—”

“The first time I kissed you, you had a boyfriend. I knew it. Trust me. I fucking knew. I just didn’t give a shit. It didn’t stop me from wanting you. Needing to fucking be around you like some kind of needy asshole.”

"Sebastian, wait—"

"So you’ve been driving me insane. And I can’t help but think you’re doing it on purpose. I do not have time for this. I do not have time for you. I do not have time for feeling like I always need to be around you or wondering what the hell you're doing when you're not with me, or for imagining what painting you're working on. I do not have time for this shit."

She blinked her wide, hazel eyes at me, and her bottom lip started to quiver. Shit. She was going to cry. But no, instead of crying she whipped around and started to storm out. And I don’t know why I did it. But I reached a hand out and grasped her upper arm before she could make her escape.

"Let me go. You don’t want to be friends. I hear you loud and clear."

Her skin was so soft in my grasp, and I had to be careful not to hurt her. "Don't you fucking get it? No! I don't want to be friends. I want to be a lot fucking more than that."

Kissing her that first time in the bar had been spontaneous and surprising. Kissing her in my apartment had been getting carried away. It was a taste I couldn’t forget. Kissing her now, when we were all alone with no one to stop us, was a choice. One that I couldn’t come back from. But that knowledge didn't stop me.

I slid my lips over hers, even as I wrapped my arms around her to pull her close. At first she held still, refusing to kiss me back. But then with a low moan in the back of her throat, she melted against me, her lips parting, allowing me entry. And then I slipped inside.

There wasn’t much thinking on my part after that. More like registering of feelings. Softness. Need. Longing. Desire. Lust. All of it. I felt it all. As much as I tried to keep that shit at bay, there she was insisting, demanding that I feel. Demanding that I pay attention to her. Demanding that I touch her.

I slid my tongue over hers, relishing her flavor and her taste. She was so small compared to me that it was easier just to pick her up and place her on the counter.

Hell yes. So much better because I could step between her legs and press the tip of my dick against her sweet center. All I wanted was more. I needed to be closer, needed more from her. She rocked her hips into me, and my damn eyes crossed. Fuck.

She moaned as I slid my hand up under her T-shirt and ran my thumb over her ribs. So goddamn soft. I wanted more. Would she let me drag her T-shirt off her head and palm her perfect tits? Would she let me bury my face between them, lick them, suck them? Would she let me fuck them? They were so full. That would work, wouldn't it?

My dick was rock hard and ready to cut steel, and she kept making those tiny little rotations with her hips as if begging me to strip down her leggings and slide home deep. I could do that. Who gave a fuck about consequences? I knew she would be tight. I knew she would squeeze around me.

"Sebastian, please—"

I cut her off with another kiss. I couldn’t stop touching her. When I eased my hand up to slide over the soft, silky fabric of her bra, she gasped into my mouth. I felt the sound and moaned in return as the delicate little bud peaked under my thumb. Shit, she was responsive. And I could feel her heat pulsing at me through her soft leggings.

Too impatient to wait, I slid my hand up her back and managed to unhook her bra with a single click. And then her breasts were spilling forth into my hand and … fuck yes. Soft and full and … God. I squeezed gently, kneading, plucking the tight peaks into even sharper points.

"Oh my God. Jesus."

I dipped my head, bending down to taste her. I told myself it would be just for second and then I would put her bra back on, set her on her feet, finish the goddamn inventory, and get the fuck out of there. Take her home, lay her across my bed, spread her wide and sink home deep.

I was not fucking her in the storage room. Any second now I would stop. Any second now I would stop torturing myself and her. I couldn’t have her.

But God help me, I couldn’t stop.

Her hands were in my hair, dragging me closer. I relished every minute of it.

The way her nails scored my scalp, the sounds that she made, the way she licked into my mouth, each shuddering breath she drew … I wanted more of that, more of her unabashed response to me.

I released one nipple with a slight pop and kissed across the other. Licking over her with my tongue, using my teeth to gently graze. Yes. Damn, she tasted so fucking good.

The more she rocked her hips up, begging for attention, the more I wanted to put my mouth on her clit and fuck her with my tongue. And I didn't plan on stopping until she nearly cut off my air with her lean legs.

"Oh, God. Sebastian ... ” Her words trailed off on a moan.

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t process. Everything was lost in a blur of sensation and heat. I dragged my lips off of hers, kissing along the column of her neck, down past the hollow of her throat.

Her hands were in my hair pulling me close, holding me tight. She grasped at my T-shirt and tugged it off.

I trailed hot kisses between her breasts, skipping over two of my favorite parts because I had a better target. I’d been twisted up for weeks wondering what she tasted like.

I kissed past her belly button, hitching my hands behind her thighs and widening them. When I lowered myself, she tossed her head back on a low chuckle. “What are we doing?”

She had a point. What the fuck were we doing? Why did she twist me up like this?

Fuck, does it matter? No. It didn’t. Because I was making her mine.

My mouth hovered over the soft cotton of her leggings, and my heart thudded so loud I would swear it could be heard in Brooklyn. Just as I was about to press my lips to her cotton-clad heat, a deep voice called out from the bar.

"Seb? Are you in there? I know you’re here. Bar’s open. Hello?"

“Fuck." My dick throbbed in protest.

Len blinked in surprise. "Lucas?"

I stood slowly. Holding her to me. "Fucking Lucas."

"What's he doing here?"

"I forgot. He mentioned he'd stop by. I figured you and I would just be hanging out; I didn't think—I mean, I didn’t know we’d … " My voice trailed.

She blinked at me as if trying to put the pieces together. Gently, I reclasped her bra and readjusted her top. Then I grabbed my T-shirt off the floor and shoved it on more hastily.

She still sat perfectly still, looking shell-shocked, so I ran my hand over her curls. “You okay? I didn't mean to get so carried—”

Her gaze snapped to mine and she interrupted me. “I’m fine. I’m just horny.”

I couldn’t help it, and the laugh escaped before I could call it back. “That makes two of us.” I kissed her lips gently again before I called back to Lucas, "Back here."

I readjusted myself, trying to make some room for my dick in my jeans, and took a steadying step away from Len. When I picked her up and put her back on her feet, she moaned. Her eyes were still half-lidded, her lips bruised and swollen, and all I wanted was to kiss her again.

But Lucas opened the door and a cocky smirk flashed. "There you guys are. I’ve been calling for you. What were you two crazy kids up to?"

Len flushed and slid a glance at me. "Uh—”

“Getting more Kahlua to make a drink. I didn't realize you were coming so soon. I thought you were going to call."

Lucas shrugged. "Figured I'd just come see you. I didn't know I'd be interrupting anything."

I cleared my throat. "You weren't."

Lucas laughed. "Done so soon, bro?" He leaned over to Len. "I promise you, I last a lot longer. Want to take a spin? I promise to satisfy you a lot better than Sebastian can."

I couldn’t help it. I smacked him upside the head. "This one’s mine. Get your own." I grabbed the Kahlua and showed them both the way out.

Past the main office, Len gasped. "Is that my painting?"

Busted. I flushed as I turned around. "Yeah. I got the owners to agree to put that in the VIP area. Looks good there, doesn't it?"

She stared at me and then started rapidly blinking her glazed eyes. "It does. Thank you."

The warmth spread throughout my chest. “It's beautiful. And it deserves to be seen. Just like you."

Lucas immediately broke up the tension. "Jesus, if you two are done eye fucking each other, I need a drink."