At the Stroke of Midnight (Naughty Princess Club 1)

I’ve never been kissed like this before, so hard and gentle all at the same time. His warm, soft palms still hold my face in place, but his lips are bruising, and his tongue should be registered as a weapon of mass destruction for how perfectly it slides and pushes against my own.

I stumble toward him and my eyes slowly blink open in confusion when he abruptly ends the kiss, pulling his lips away from mine. He still holds my face in his hands as he looks down at me, his thumbs gently rubbing against my cheeks as he stares down into my eyes.

“I see you. I hear you. And I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Okay,” I reply lamely, the wine, the kiss, and my minibreakdown suddenly catching up with me until all I want to do is pass out in bed.

Or throw up. Throwing up all this wine churning in my stomach while I stand here pressed up against a man who can kiss like a God and confuses the hell out of me would be good right about now.

PJ’s hands drop from my face as he steps away and continues walking backward toward his car, never taking his eyes off me.

“I’ll pick you up at ten a.m. tomorrow, so make sure you’re ready.”

I glare at him and start to let loose another tirade of how he must not have heard a word I said about people telling me what to do, but he quickly backpedals when he sees the look on my face.

“Is it okay if I pick you up tomorrow at ten?” he asks instead, pausing by the side of his truck.

His manly, hot truck that makes him look all manly and rugged.

“What for?”

He smiles at me and, it’s pathetic how I can’t take my eyes off his lips as I watch them move.

“Boot camp, baby. No more lessons with my dancers.”

“Oh, don’t you even—”

He holds up one hand to cut me off.

“Not because I doubt you. If anyone is going to teach you how to do this, it’s gonna be me. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

His eyes move from mine and travel down my body, making my skin break out in goosebumps with the way he takes his time staring at me until he makes his way back up to my face.

“We’ll be in a public place, so you might want to think about putting a shirt on.”

Giving me a smirk and a wink, he gets inside his vehicle, starts it up, and backs out of my driveway.

“And will all of my dancers who are on the schedule tonight, please get their lovely asses back to work within the next hour?” he shouts out of the open window as he backs out onto the street.

I watch him go until Ariel walks up next to me, and I turn to face her.

“I took my shirt off in my front yard,” I tell her.

“Yep.”

“I said fuck a lot. Like, A LOT,” I add.

“You did.”

“I made out with a guy with my shirt off, in my front yard, after saying fuck a lot, and I’m still not wearing a shirt,” I remind her.

“Are you gonna pass out? Because if you are, I’ve had entirely too much vodka to carry your ass into the house, and the guy who did it last time just left.”

I take a minute to think about everything that happened tonight as I look around the yard to see everyone going about their normal business, laughing and drinking like it’s no big deal. I anticipate the weight and the pressure of the guilt to pile itself on top of me again, but it doesn’t happen. All I feel is . . . free.

Walking around Ariel, I go over to the pile of beige clothing and gather up as much of it as I can before turning and marching across the yard to the fire pit everyone is standing around.

Ariel and Belle meet me by the fire and stand on either side of me as I chuck it all into the stone pit and smile when the flames get higher.

“LET’S BURN SOME SHIT!” I shout, which makes everyone around the fire cheer and yell and clink their glasses and bottles together.

Belle rests her head on my shoulder as she stares into the fire with a huge smile on her face, and Ariel wraps her arm around my shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“Welcome home, Zero Fucks Given Barbie. Welcome home,” Ariel says.

Chapter 17: Nipple Nut Clusters

“I was fired from the PTA.”

“Good. You better not be wearing those mom jeans on your date with PJ.”

With a sigh, I shift my cell phone to the opposite ear as I turn from side to side and check out my reflection in the mirror. The one perk of having a teenager daughter: I can steal her clothes.