Her gaze ran over my face. “I really don’t make a habit of having hot sex with handsome strangers in the middle of a ball.”

I smiled. “Hot sex?”

She whacked my shoulder. “You know it was.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I don’t think I need to stroke your ego any more than I already have.” She shifted and pushed off my lap.

As my cock slid free, we both moaned.

“Oh God,” she whispered again. She smoothed her skirts down, looking a little unsteady. “I…” She looked like she didn’t know what to say.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

She licked those pretty red lips. “It was amazing.”

I smiled. “I fucking agree.”

“I don’t do this.”

“You mentioned that. I⁠—”

Then she spun and ran.

Dammit. I shot to my feet, but my cock was out, and I still needed to deal with the condom. By the time I’d found a tissue and zipped up, my fairy queen was long gone. I strode down the stairs, scanning the room.

There was no sign of her.

Dammit to hell. A muscle in my jaw ticked. I hadn’t been done with her. Not by a long shot. My fairy queen had pulled a Cinderella and run from the ball without telling me her name.

My hand slipped into my pocket and clenched on the lace I’d stolen from her.

The only proof I had that she was real.

5. Tessa

Chapter 5

Tessa

“We have thoroughly enjoyed our stay.”

I smiled at the older couple checking out. “I’m so glad.”

“My Thomas proposed to me here, forty-seven years ago.” Mrs. Palmer had a pretty face and carefully dyed ash-blond hair. She tipped her head up to look at her husband.

Mr. Palmer, tall and fit, had plenty of distinguished gray in his thick hair. “It can’t have been that long already. You don’t look a day over twenty-nine.”

She playfully swatted him, then looked back at me. “It was delightful to have dinner in the same spot where he proposed, and the flowers you organized were lovely. I thoroughly enjoyed my meal.”

“My steak was overdone.”

“Thomas.” Mrs. Palmer rolled her eyes. “That man loves his steak still mooing.”

“I’ll make a note of that for your next trip.” Thomas was right, Chef Harvey tended to overcook the meat. The man was nearing retirement, and, in typical chef fashion, believed he could do no wrong. I’d think of a way to broach the subject with him. I waved at one of the bellmen. “Your car to the airport is here.”

“Thank you again,” Mrs. Palmer said with a smile.