Tangled Games (Dating Games)

by T. K. Leigh

  “Did you do as I asked?” His voice is low and seductive.

  “What’s that?” I squeak out.

  He glances at my legs and leans toward me. His hand caresses my flesh, starting above my knee and leisurely moving higher before disappearing up my slit. His breath heats my neck, my libido screaming at him to keep going and not stop until he touches me between my thighs.

  The poor girl’s been quite neglected these past few weeks.

  “Did you wear any panties?” he murmurs.

  I close my eyes, my breathing becoming more ragged with every inch his fingers creep toward my center. Swallowing down a moan, I curve into him. “A little farther, and you can find out for yourself.”

  He pinches his lips together. “True.” He moves his hand farther north, then suddenly retreats. “But not yet.”

  “No?”

  He slowly shakes his head. “No.”

  “Then when?”

  “Soon. And don’t worry. I plan on making the wait worth your while, love.”

  “You’d better.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Because my libido is in rare form tonight.”

  “Is that right?”

  “She’s had a bit of a dry spell lately.”

  “Let’s see what we can do about putting an end to that sooner rather than later.”

  I bite my bottom lip. “I like the sound of that.”

  After a short drive filled with sexual tension, Creed pulls up in front of a restaurant. When I notice the paparazzi already waiting, I assume he’ll continue around to the back. He doesn’t, though.

  I look toward Anderson, a single brow raised.

  “Part of dating a prince is cameras and paparazzi following us. Since I’ve had a penchant for breaking the rules lately, I figured I’d break one more. Instead of waiting for the paparazzi to find me, as they always do, I had my people tell them where I am so my security team could control the situation from the beginning. See?”

  He nods out the window. Police barricades are set up, much like at pre-planned engagements. It’s a marked difference from the last time I’d encountered the paparazzi. There’s no frenzy of people shouting and grabbing. It’s orderly. Manageable. Safe.

  “Better to take control of the situation before it controls you. Now, shall we create some headlines?”

  I look from the crowd and back to Anderson, my mouth growing dry. I thought we’d go somewhere private where no one would be able to see us. But to walk through the front entrance of a restaurant where there are actual diners? To do something normal people do?

  This is exactly what I need. What I’ve needed since I first landed in this country and my life was turned upside down.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good.”

  When Creed opens the door, Anderson steps out to a chorus of cheers and camera flashes. He buttons his suit jacket, giving a quick wave to the crowd before turning back toward the car, offering me his hand.

  I slide across the seat, praying this isn’t a repeat of the night we were chased from Esme’s dinner party. After the past few weeks, I’m not exactly in the mood for a bunch of jealous girls to point out every single of one of my imperfections and tell me all the reasons Caroline DeVries is better suited for Anderson. Especially after my unexpected phone call from my mother yesterday.

  But like Anderson said, this is part of dating Prince Gabriel. That’s what I wanted. And that’s precisely what he’s giving me.

  On a deep inhale, I carefully step out of the SUV. The instant my feet hit the pavement, the camera flashes increase, people shouting my name. But that’s not all. They’re begging Anderson to kiss me like he did yesterday, a few photos having made the rounds on social media, much to my publicist’s chagrin.

  Anderson smirks, playfully waggling his brows. “What do you say, love? Should we give them what they want?”

  I place my hand on his chest, tilting my head back. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint your adoring fans.”

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong.” He yanks my body against his, lips descending toward me. The cheers grow louder with every inch he erases. “They’re your adoring fans now, too.”

  As his mouth covers mine, cheers and applause echo around us, cameras clicking even more hurriedly in an attempt to capture the perfect shot of our kiss.

  The evening’s barely begun, yet there’s no doubt in my mind.

  This is the perfect date with a prince.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Nora

  “What is this place?” I ask later that evening when Creed pulls the SUV in front of a three-story, industrial-looking brick building, not a soul in sight, the only sound that of the occasional dog barking and the lapping of ocean waves in the distance, indicating we must be somewhere near the water’s edge.

  “You’ll see,” Anderson answers with a devilish smirk.

  “It’s where you hide the bodies, right?” I joke. “This whole prince thing is just a front, a way to lure unsuspecting young women to your lair?”

  He leans toward me, midnight blue eyes undressing me. “You figured out my secret. Although the only woman I hope to lure to my lair is you, gorgeous.” He winks as Creed opens my door.

  Once my feet hit the cracked sidewalk, I look up at the building. It’s a complete one-eighty from the picture of perfection of Anderson’s estate and the palace. Not somewhere I’d ever imagine him spending any meaningful time. Or bringing a date.

  After the extravagant five-course dinner that oozed with sophistication and romance, I expected more of that. Not to end up in an area of town that’s more akin to Jersey City than Central Park West.

  “This way.” He places his hand on the small of my back and steers me toward a large metal door. After punching a code into the keypad, the door buzzes.

  A musky, woodsy scent surrounds me as I warily step into what appears to be a vast, empty space. The only light comes from the full moon shining in through rain-spotted, grimy windows.

  Anderson takes my hand in his, leading me to the far corner of the room. Despite the relative darkness, he seems to know precisely where he’s going, as if he can navigate this path blindfolded.

  When we approach a pair of gated doors, he opens them, revealing a cage-like elevator.

  “I’ve seen rickety elevators like this in the movies, and it never ended well for the woman who stupidly got in it.”

  “Come on. Live a little.” He waggles his brows as he pulls me inside, then tugs the door closed. After he presses a few buttons, it starts with a jolt, moving at a languid pace.

  “Where are we?” I press once more.

  “I told you…” He erases the distance, pinning me against the wall. “I’m bringing you back to my secret lair.”

  “Is that right?” I reply in a sultry voice.

  Throughout the night, there’s been a flirtatious vibe between us, even more so than usual. Probably because it’s been so long since we’ve been intimate, both of us ready to snap at any moment. But despite the fact Anderson insisted on sitting as close to me as possible during dinner, he’s barely touched me, leaving me squirming.

  The anticipation is driving me mad.

  “You’re about to find out.”

  The elevator comes to a stop, but he doesn’t retreat, his gaze searing into me, warming me from the inside out.

  “Aren’t we going to get off?” I ask in a shaky voice.

  His eyes flame in the darkness, jaw clenching. Then he nuzzles the crook of my neck as he grinds his hips against me. “God, I really fucking hope so. You have no idea how badly I need to get off.”

  “I think I do.” I run my hand through his hair, pulling him closer. “I’ve been on edge all night long.”

  He pulls back. “Any reason for that?”

  “You know the reason for that.”

  “Do I?” he counters, feigning innocence.

  “You’re the one who told me not to wear any panties, then barely laid a hand on me all night.”


  His conniving grin returns as he rakes his gaze down my body. “In my experience, delayed gratification can be quite…pleasurable.”

  “And sadistic,” I retort.

  “Trust me, love. I’ll make it worth your while.” Winking, he opens the cage door and steps into yet another dark space.

  I take a moment to compose myself, drawing in a shaky breath to calm my raging hormones.

  Everything about tonight has been perfect. From going out in public as Prince Gabriel’s fiancée, to the amazing dinner, to the even more amazing conversation as Anderson and I reconnected after weeks of being torn in two different directions.

  But right now, I don’t want to be wined and dined. I don’t want to be romanced. I want Anderson. More than I think I ever have.

  “Welcome to my secret lair,” he says once I step off the elevator. “Or, as I like to refer to it, my studio.”

  He flicks a switch on the wall, bathing everything in light. Pipes and beams run the length of the ceiling, the walls exposed brick. A variety of different light stands have been arranged in the corner, as well as cables and a few fans. Framed prints and canvases are interspersed throughout, some on easels, some hanging on the walls. From what I know of Anderson’s style, they’re all his work.

  “You have a studio?”

  “I do.”

  “Why isn’t it at your house? You have enough space there.”

  “Because sometimes you need an escape. Esme’s cooking is hers. This is mine. Where I come when things get to be too much. When I need to feel…” He trails off, searching for the right word.

  “Normal,” I finish his statement.

  “Exactly.” He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “When I need to feel normal.”

  “Who knows about this?” I pull away from him and continue into the room, studying the photographs.

  “Just Esme and Creed. And now you. This is a part of myself I don’t share with many people. But I want you to know this side of me. Give you another peek into who I am.” He gazes around the dimly lit space. “There are a lot of pieces of me sprinkled around here.”

  I survey the various images. If I know anything about Anderson, I’d assume each of the photos he chose to display here holds a special place in his heart. Has a deep meaning for him.

  “When did you take this?”

  I move toward a mostly black-and-white image on canvas. The only color is a red balloon against a cloudy sky, a young, blonde girl standing on the beach watching it float away. There’s a sadness in its simplicity that draws me to it.

  “Is it recent?” I glance over my shoulder as he approaches.

  “Actually, no. That was the first photo I’d ever taken. At least with a professional camera and using some of the techniques my instructor taught me. That’s Esme.”

  “Esme?” I whip my attention back to the canvas, squinting. “But this girl… She couldn’t have been more than seven or eight.”

  “Seven.”

  “You started learning photography at eight?”

  “My therapist thought it would be good for me.”

  “I remember you telling me that. I assumed, well… I guess once I learned who you were and that your girlfriend had passed away unexpectedly…”

  “You assumed my therapist suggested it as a coping mechanism after Kendall’s death.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It was to cope with, well…” He waves a hand around. “All of this, I suppose. Going from a nobody to suddenly being on everyone’s radar. Being chased by paparazzi at only eight years of age. Coming to terms with the fact that my life was no longer my own.”

  I study him, my heart aching for the little boy who had to grow up overnight. I may not have had the best mother, but I was still able to be a child. He was deprived of that.

  “Did it help? Photography, I mean.”

  “It did. Knowing that I had photography, had this hobby… It was and still is something that’s just for me. A part of me the rest of the world doesn’t get. I’m probably not making any sense, but—”

  I place my hand on his cheek, and he lifts his gaze to me. “You make perfect sense. I understand now. Prince Gabriel’s more a mask than a person, something you need to don to protect yourself from everything that goes along with the job.”

  He smiles sadly as he nods. “And you’ll have to do the same. You’ll have to be a different person when you’re in public. You can still give them parts of you, don’t have to be this uncaring machine, but if you give them all of you, there will be nothing left for me.” His Adam’s apple bobs in a hard swallow. “Worse, there will be nothing left for you.”

  Eyes impassioned, he grips my cheeks so I’m unable to escape, unable to avoid this conversation, forced to face the reality of my future.

  “I’m sorry I kept Prince Gabriel from you for so long. It’s not because I didn’t want you in my life, Nora. I do.” He licks his lips, a contemplative look crossing his face. “I guess I was so used to people only wanting to be with me because of what I am. Not who I am. So I may not have given you Prince Gabriel.” He brushes his thumb along my bottom lip, sending a shiver through me. “But it’s because I wanted you to see the best part of me. The real part of me. Although, I must confess…”

  “Yes?” I tilt my head back, my breathing growing uneven.

  “You are the best part of me.”

  My heart expands more than I thought possible as his declaration fills me with love. “And you’re the best part of me.”

  He leans down, erasing the last bit of space between us. When his lips touch mine, I sigh into him, his kiss like an electrical jolt, sparking me back to life. It’s not a passion-filled exchange like in front of the restaurant earlier. That one was for them. But this one…a gentle meeting of our mouths…is just for us.

  “Anders,” I exhale.

  “Yes?”

  “I need you to take me home and make love to me.”

  “Putting out on the first date?” he jokes with a sexy lift of his brows.

  “I didn’t think you’d complain.”

  “True.” He pauses. “But I’ll have to respectfully decline.”

  “Decline?” I wiggle free of his grasp, mouth agape. “You can’t be serious. You—”

  He wraps an arm around my waist, tugging me against him. I initially try to resist his kiss, but it’s a losing battle. Has been since the beginning.

  “I have to respectfully decline,” he repeats against my lips, “because we don’t need to go home.”

  “We don’t?”

  With a sly smile, he shakes his head and steps back, extending his hand toward me. “Let me show you.”

  I eye him cautiously, but curiosity gets the better of me and I link my fingers with his, allowing him to lead me back into the elevator.

  When we arrive on the third floor, Anderson opens the cage doors into yet another space. But unlike his studio, this is more like an apartment. An open-concept kitchen, dining, and living area greet me. It still has an industrial feel, but is more homey.

  “So this must be your secret lair.”

  “Oh, most definitely.” He chews on his bottom lip, giving me a seductive look that makes me nearly combust in my panties. If I were wearing any, that is. “Last chance to make a run for it.”

  “I doubt I’d be able to work that elevator.” With a shrug, I lift myself onto my toes, my mouth a breath away from his. “I guess I’ll have to take my chances.”

  “I guess you will.”

  He clutches my hip, yanking me against him. Our chests heave as we peer into each other’s eyes. Anticipation coils deep within, all the pent-up frustration from these past several weeks threatening to spill over like lava. Finally, he crushes his lips to mine, momentarily relieving the pressure inside me. But only for a heartbeat. When his tongue swipes against mine, lust consumes me, urging me to kiss him harder, deeper, faster, begging him to give me what I need.

  Not breaking the contact, he steers me backward until
my spine hits the wall. He grips my ass and, much like the first night we spent together, lifts me up, forcing my legs around his waist.

  I throw my head back, moaning when I feel his erection. I pulse against him, my breath coming quicker, the combination of my lack of panties and our weeks-long dry spell winding me tighter than I have been in recent memory.

  “God, baby…” He nuzzles me, nipping and sucking at the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. “You have no idea how badly I want you.”

  “I feel how much you want me.” I slide my hand down his chest, landing on his crotch.

  He hisses in a breath, briefly closing his eyes. Then he brings his thumb to my clit and slowly circles. “And I feel how much you want me. Have been dying to do this all fucking night. You have no idea how badly I wanted to reach under the table during dinner and make you come right there.”

  “Anders…,” I moan, moving in time with his motions.

  “But I won’t let anybody else have that. Your moans, your whimpers, the look on your face when you come…” He growls, rubbing me faster and faster. When he pulls back, his eyes swirl with pure animalistic hunger. “It’s all mine. I’m the only one who gets to see that.”

  “Yes…” I move more frantically against him, out of my mind with lust. His words are possessive and dominant, but damn, I love it. “Only you, Anders. Oh god…” I struggle to catch my breath, my orgasm so close I can practically taste it.

  “Put one foot back on the floor,” he orders, readjusting his grip on me.

  I do as he instructs, keeping one leg wrapped around his waist while I lower a foot to the floor. I don’t feel him as hard against me as before, but that all changes when he slips a finger inside me, his thumb still circling my clit.

  “This reminds me of Tucumcari.” His motions quickening, he adds another finger. “Do you remember?”

  “How could I forget?” I pant. “That was the night you told me who you really are. Then fingerfucked me in the alley outside of the bar.”

  “Because I couldn’t go another minute without having you.” He brings his lips to mine. My body burns hotter and hotter with east thrust and pinch. “Because I couldn’t go another minute without making you come.”