“Thanks. Me, too.”
His soft lips met hers, and warmth suffused through her.
Through the beaded silk, Flicka could feel warmth and pressure as his hands touched her waist.
His mouth opened, and his tongue wiped across her lips.
One of his hands slipped around her waist toward her back.
She leaned forward, pressing herself against his broad chest.
He pulled on the back of her dress like he was trying to get her sleeve off.
“Hey,” Flicka muttered against his lips. “What are you doing?”
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s have a good time tonight.” His mouth dipped to her shoulder.
“Hey, Antonius? Maybe we should go back to the dining room.”
“That wouldn’t be any fun.”
Her dress unzipped down the back, loosening all around her. “Hey!”
Antonius bent, and his hand ran up her leg until his arm had pulled her skirt up around her hips.
She shoved at him. Antonius caught her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head.
“Hey! Stop that.”
He grabbed the strap that went over her shoulder and yanked it down her chest. Her dress loosened because it was open in back, the heavy beads pulling the slim shift down her body.
He dropped her skirt and dragged her neckline down, reaching for her breasts.
She struggled against his hands that still pinned her wrists. “Hey, Antonius! Stop it!”
In the dark, Antonius’s hands left her wrists and her dress that was falling down her side.
Flicka grabbed her dress but stumbled sideways, unbalanced.
A strong arm wrapped around her waist, saving her from sliding down the wall into a wine-soaked puddle on the floor.
She pulled her sleeve back up her shoulder as she was dragged, literally stumbling and toes scuffing the carpeting, out of the niche.
In the hallway outside, the overhead light shone down on Dieter’s blond hair and form-fitting tuxedo.
Flicka slumped against Dieter, relieved.
With his other hand, Dieter had Antonius by the throat.
Antonius’s driver stood down the hallway, saying, “Oh, no. Don’t, I say. Stop assaulting the prince, there. Oh, stop.” He adjusted his tie and smoothed down his lapels.
Dieter growled at Antonius, “If you ever come sniffing around her again, I’ll rip your lungs out.”
He dropped the prince, who stumbled backward and away, and supported Flicka as they walked out.
He whispered to her, “Did he hurt you?”
“No. Not really.” She hugged his waist as they walked.
