I found Zainab near the dessert table, laughing at something Lyric had said. She looked happy. Relaxed. Like she belonged here, in this world of money and power and endless possibility.
“Can I steal her for a minute?” I asked, sliding my arm around her waist.
“By all means,” Camille said with a knowing smile. “We’ll be here.”
I led Zainab away from the crowd, toward the elevators at the back of the ballroom.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Somewhere private.”
“Prime, we can’t just leave?—”
“We’re not leaving. Just… taking a break.”
The elevator required a key card for the penthouse level. Good thing I knew the hotel manager.
The doors opened onto a private suite—all floor-to-ceiling windows and modern furniture and a view of DC that made the city look like a circuit board of lights. But I wasn’t interested in the interior.
I led her straight to the balcony.
The air was cold but not unbearable. Below us, the gala glittered through the hotel’s glass walls—tiny figures in formal wear, moving and mingling, completely unaware that we were watching from above.
“It’s beautiful,” Zainab breathed, leaning against the railing.
“You’re beautiful.”
She turned to look at me, and whatever she saw in my eyes made her breath catch. “Prime…”
I was on her before she could finish.
My mouth claimed hers—hard, demanding, nothing like the polite kisses we’d exchanged in front of my family. This was hunger. This was need. This was every minute I’d spent watching her charm my brothers and fit into my world, wanting to drag her somewhere private and show her exactly how much she affected me.
She moaned against my lips, her hands fisting in my jacket.
“Someone could see,” she gasped when I broke the kiss to trail my mouth down her neck.
“I know.” I bit down on that spot below her ear that always made her knees weak. “That’s what makes it fun.”
“We’re literally above the party?—”
“Then you better be quiet.”
I spun her around, pressing her against the railing. The city sprawled out beneath us, all those lights and lives, completely oblivious to what was about to happen on this balcony.
“Hands on the rail,” I ordered. “Don’t let go.”
She obeyed, her fingers wrapping around the cold metal. I ran my hands down her sides, over those curves that dress had been teasing all night, until I found the slit in her skirt.
“No underwear?” My voice came out rougher than I intended.
“I had a feeling you’d want easy access.”
“Smart girl.”
I hiked her dress up around her waist, exposing her to the cold air. She shivered—from the temperature or the anticipation, I couldn’t tell. Didn’t care.
I dropped to my knees behind her.
