Читать книгу Princess's Pregnancy Secret - Natalie Anderson - Страница 9
ОглавлениеDAMON GALE STALKED the perimeter of the crowded ballroom, dodging another cluster of smiling women whose feathered masks neither softened nor hid their hunger as they stared at him.
He shouldn’t have discarded his mask so soon.
Turning his back on another wordless invitation, he sipped his champagne, wishing it contained a stronger liquor. Women wanted more from him than he ever wanted from them. Always. While they agreed to a fling—fully informed of his limits—when it ended, recriminations and resentment came.
You’re heartless.
He smiled cynically as the echo rang in his head. His last ex had thrown that old chestnut at him a few months ago. And, yes, he was. Heartless and happy with it.
And what did it matter? For tonight business, not pleasure, beckoned. Tonight he was drawing a line beneath a decades-old disaster and tomorrow he’d walk away from this gilded paradise without a backwards glance. Just coming back had made old wounds hurt like fresh hits.
But for now he’d endured the outrageously opulent entrance, navigated his way up the marble staircase and walked through not one but five antechambers. Each room was larger and more ornate than the last, until finally he’d reached this gleaming monstrosity of a ballroom. The internal balcony overlooking the vast room already brimmed with celebrities and socialites eager to display themselves and spy on others.
Palisades palace was designed to reflect the glory of the royal family and make the average commoner feel as inconsequential as possible. It was supposed to invoke awe and envy. Frankly all the paintings, tapestries and gilded carvings exhausted Damon’s eyes. He itched to ditch his dinner jacket and hit one of the trail runs along the pristine coastline that he far preferred to this sumptuous palace, but he needed to stay and play nice for just a little while longer.
Gritting his teeth, he turned away from the lens of an official photographer. He had no desire to feature in anyone’s social media feed or society blog. He’d been forced to attend too many of these sorts of occasions in years past, as the proof of the supposed strength of his parents’ union and thus to maximise any political inroads they could make from their connections.
The bitterness of their falsity soured the champagne.
Fortunately his career wasn’t dependent upon the interest and approval of the wealthy and powerful. Thanks to his augmented reality software company, he was as wealthy as any of the patrons in attendance at this palace tonight. But even so, he was here to make the old-school grace and favour system work for him just this once. Grimly he glanced over to where he’d left his half-sister only ten minutes ago. The investors he’d introduced her to were actively listening to her earnest, intelligent conversation, asking questions, clearly interested in what she was saying.
That introduction was all she’d agreed to accept from him. She’d refused his offer to fund her research himself and, while it irritated him, he didn’t blame her. After all, they barely knew each other and neither of them wanted to dwell on the cancerous and numerous scars of their parents’ infidelities. She had her pride and he respected her for it. But he’d been determined to try to help heal two decades of hurt and heartache caused by lies and deception, even in some small way, given his father’s total lack of remorse. From the intensity of that discussion, it seemed his job was done.
Now Damon turned away from the crowds, seeking solace in solitude for a moment before he could escape completely.
Symmetrical marble columns lined the length of the room. On one side they bracketed doors to the internal courtyard currently lit by lights strung in the trees. But on the other side the columns stood like sentries guarding shadowy alcoves.
A wisp of blue caught his eye as he approached the nearest column and he veered nearer. A woman stood veiled in the recess, her attention tightly focused on a group of revellers a few feet away. Her hair was ten shades of blue, hung to her waist and was most definitely a wig. A feathery mask covered half her face like an intimate web of black lace. Her shoulders, cheekbones and lips sparkled in a swirling combination of blue and silver powder.
Damon paused, unable to ignore the way her long dress emphasised every millimetre of her lithe body, clinging to her luscious curves and long legs. Despite that sparkling powder, he could see the tan of her skin and it suggested she was more mermaid than waif. She definitely spent time in the sun and that toned body didn’t come from sitting on a spread towel doing nothing.
She was fit—in all interpretations of the word—but it was her undeniable femininity that stole his breath. Her pointed chin and high cheekbones and perfectly pouted lips were pure prettiness and delicacy, while her bountiful breasts were barely contained in the too-tight bodice of her midnight-blue dress.
She hadn’t noticed him as she stood still and alone, watching the crowd. So he watched her. Her mask didn’t hide her emotions—while her intentions were not obvious, her anxiety was. Something about her stark isolation softened that hard knot tied fast in his chest and set a challenge at the same time.
He was seized by the desire to make her smile.
He was also seized by the urge to span his hands around her narrow waist and pull her close so he could feel the graceful combination of softness and strength that her figure promised.
He smiled ruefully as raw warmth coursed through his veins. Its unexpected ferocity was vastly better than the cold ash clogging his lungs when he’d first arrived. Perhaps there could be a moment of pleasure here after all, now his business was concluded and that personal debt paid.
He quietly strolled nearer. Her attention was still fixed on the people gathering in the glittering ballroom, but he focused on her. She hovered on the edge of the room, still in the shadow. Still almost invisible to everyone else.
Her breasts swelled as she inhaled deeply. He hesitated, waiting for her to move forward. But contrary to his expectation, she suddenly stepped back, her expression falling as she turned away.
Damon narrowed his gaze. He had his own reasons for avoiding occasions like this, but why would a beautiful young woman like her want to hide? She should have company.
His company.
He lifted a second glass from the tray of a passing waiter and stepped past the column into the alcove. She’d paused in her retreat to look over that vast room of bejewelled, beautiful people. The expression in her eyes was obvious, despite the mask and the make-up. Part longing, part loneliness, her isolation stirred him. He spoke before thinking better of it.
‘Can’t quite do it?’
She whirled to face him, her eyes widening. Damon paused, needing a moment to appreciate the layers of sequins and powder on her pretty features. She was so very blue. She registered the two glasses he was holding and darted a glance behind him. As she realised he was alone, her eyes widened more. He smiled at her obvious wariness.
‘It’s your first time?’ he asked.
Her mouth opened in a small wordless gasp.
‘At the palace,’ he clarified, wryly amused while keenly aware of the fullness of her glittered lips. ‘It can be overwhelming the first time.’
Fascinatingly a telltale colour ran up her neck and face, visible despite the artful swirls of powder dusting almost every inch of her exposed skin. She was blushing at the most innocuous of statements.
Well, almost innocuous.
His smile deepened as he imagined her response if he were to utter something a great deal more inappropriate. Her body captured his attention, and he couldn’t resist stealing a glance lower.
Heat speared again, tightening his muscles. He dragged his gaze up and realised she’d caught his slip. Unabashed he smiled again, letting her know in that time-worn way of his interest. She met his open gaze, not stepping back. But still she said nothing.
Alone. Definitely unattached. And almost certainly on the inexperienced side.
Damon hadn’t chased a woman in a long while. Offers from more than willing bedmates meant he was more hunted than hunter. He avoided their attempts to snare him for longer, bored with justifying his refusal to commit to a relationship. He had too much of what women wanted—money and power. And yes, physical stamina and experience. Women enjoyed those things too.
But the possibilities here were tempting—when she reacted so tantalisingly with so little provocation? Those too-blue eyes and that too-sombre pout were beguiling.
He’d barely expected to stay ten minutes, let alone find someone who’d rouse his playful side. But now his obligation to Kassie had been met, he had the urge to amuse himself.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
Her pupils dilated as if she was surprised but, again, she said nothing.
‘I think I’ll call you “Blue”,’ he said leisurely.
Her chin lifted fractionally. ‘Because of my hair?’
He had to stop his jaw from dropping at the sound of her husky tones. That sultriness was at complete odds with her innocent demeanour. She was as raspy as a kitten’s tongue. The prospect of making her purr tightened his interest.
‘Because of the longing in your eyes.’ And because of the pout of her pretty mouth.
‘What do you think I’m longing for?’
Now there was a question. One he chose not to answer, knowing his silence would speak for itself. He just looked at her—feeling the awareness between them snap.
‘What should I call you?’ she asked after a beat.
He lifted his eyebrows. ‘You don’t know who I am?’
Her lips parted as she shook her head. ‘Should I?’
He studied her for a moment—there had been no flash of recognition in her eyes when he’d first spoken to her, and there was none now. How...refreshing. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m no one of importance. No prince, that’s for sure.’
Something flickered in her eyes then, but it was gone before he could pick it up.
‘I’m visiting Palisades for a few days,’ he drawled. ‘And I’m single.’
Her lips parted. ‘Why do I need to know that?’
That sultry voice pulled, setting off a small ache deep in his bones. He didn’t much like aches. He preferred action.
‘No reason.’ He shrugged carelessly, but smiled.
Her lips twitched, then almost curved. Satisfaction seeped into his gut, followed hard by something far hotter. Pleasure. It pressed him closer.
‘Why are you all alone in here?’ He offered her the second glass of champagne.
She accepted it but took such a small sip he wasn’t sure that the liquid even hit her lips. A careful woman. Intriguing.
‘Are you hiding?’ he queried.
She licked her lips and glanced down at her dress before tugging at the strap that was straining to hold her curves.
Definitely nervous.
‘You look beautiful,’ he added. ‘You don’t need to worry about that.’
That wave of colour swept her cheeks again but she lifted her head. There was an assuredness in her gaze now that surprised him. ‘I’m not worried about that.’
Oh? So she held a touch more confidence than had first appeared. Another shot of satisfaction rushed. His fingers itched with the urge to tug the wig from her head and find out what colour her hair really was. While this façade was beautiful, it was a fantasy he wanted to pierce so he could see the real treasure beneath.
‘Then why aren’t you out there?’ he asked.
‘Why aren’t you?’ Alert, she watched for his response.
‘Sometimes attendance at these things is necessary rather than desired.’
‘These “things”?’ she mocked his tone.
‘It depends who’s here.’
‘No doubt you desire these “things” more when there are plenty of pretty women.’ She was breathless beneath that rasp.
But he knew she was enjoying this slight spar and parry. He’d play along.
‘Naturally.’ Damon coolly watched her over the rim of his glass as he sipped his drink, deliberately hiding his delight. ‘I am merely a man, after all.’ He shrugged helplessly.
Her gaze narrowed on him, twin sparks shooting from that impossible blue. ‘You mean you’re a boy who likes playing with toys. A doll here, a doll there...’
‘Of course,’ he followed her smoothly. ‘Toying with dolls can be quite an amusing pastime. As can collecting them.’
‘I’ll bet.’
He leaned forward, deliberately intruding into intimate space to whisper conspiratorially, ‘I never break my toys though,’ he promised. ‘I take very good care when I’m playing.’
‘Oh?’ Her gaze lanced straight through his veneer, striking at a weak spot he didn’t know he had. ‘If you say it, it must be true.’
Appreciating her little flash of spirit, he was instantly determined to take very great care...to torture her delightfully.
‘And you?’ he asked, though he already suspected the answer. ‘Do you often attend nights like this?’ Did she play with toys of her own?
She shrugged her shoulders in an echo of his.
He leaned closer again, rewarded as he heard the hitch in her breathing. ‘Do you work at the hospital?’
Tonight’s ball was the annual fundraiser and, while he knew huge amounts were raised, it was also the chance for hospital staff to be celebrated.
‘I...do some stuff there.’ Her lashes lowered.
Wasn’t she just Ms Mysterious? ‘So why aren’t you with your friends?’
‘I don’t know them all that well.’
Perhaps she was a new recruit who’d won an invitation for this ball in the ballot they held for the hospital staff. Perhaps that was why she didn’t have any friends with her. It wouldn’t take long for her to find a few. Some surgeon would snap her up if he had any sense. Then it wouldn’t be long before she lost that arousing ability to blush.
A spear of possessiveness shafted through him at the thought of some other guy pulling her close. Surprising him into taking another step nearer to her. Too near.
‘Do you want to dance?’ He gave up on subtlety altogether.
She glanced beyond him. ‘No one is dancing yet.’
‘We could start the trend.’
She quickly shook her head, leaning back into the shadows so his body hid her from those in the ballroom. Damon guessed she didn’t want to stand out. Too late, to him she already did.
‘Don’t be intimidated by any of that lot.’ He jerked his head towards the crowds. ‘They might have the wealth but they don’t always have the manners. Or the kindness.’
‘You’re saying you don’t fit in either?’ The scepticism in her gaze as she looked him over was unmissable.
He resisted the urge to preen in front of her like some damn peacock. Instead he offered a platitude. ‘Does anyone truly fit in?’
Her gaze flashed up to his and held it a long moment. Her irises were such a vibrant blue he knew they had to be covered with contacts. The pretence of polite small talk fell away. The desire to reach for her—to strip her—almost overwhelmed him. Now that was inappropriate. He tensed, pushing back the base instinct. Damn, he wanted to touch her. Wanted her to touch him. That look in her eyes? Pure invitation. Except he had the feeling she was too inexperienced to even be aware of it.
But he couldn’t stop the question spilling roughly from his lips. ‘Are you going to do it?’
* * *
Eleni Nicolaides didn’t know what or how to answer him. This man wasn’t like anyone she’d met before.
Direct. Devastating. Dangerous.
‘Are you going to do it, Blue?’
‘Do what?’ she whispered vaguely, distracted by the play of dark and light in his watchful expression. He was appallingly handsome in that tall, dark, sex-on-a-stick sort of way. The kind of obviously experienced playboy who’d never been allowed near her.
But at the same time there was more than that to him—something that struck a chord within her. A new—seductive—note that wasn’t purely because of the physical magnetism of the man.
He captivated every one of her senses and all her interest. A lick of something new burned—yearning. She wanted him closer. She wanted to reach out and touch him. Her pulse throbbed, beating need about her body—to her dry, sensitive lips, to her tight, full breasts, to other parts too secret to speak of...
His jaw tightened. Eleni blinked at the fierce intensity that flashed in his eyes. Had he read her mind? Did he know just what she wanted to do right now?
‘Join in,’ he answered between gritted teeth.
She swallowed. Now her pulse thundered as she realised how close she’d come to making an almighty fool of herself. ‘I shouldn’t...’
‘Why not?’
So many reasons flooded her head in a cacophony of panic.
Her disguise, her deceit, her duty.
‘Blue?’ he prompted. His smile was gentle enough but the expression in his eyes was too hot.
Men had looked at her with lust before, but those times the lust hadn’t been for her but for her wealth, her title, her virtue. She’d never been on a date. She was totally untouched. And everyone knew. She’d read the crude conjecture and the jokes in the lowest of the online guttersnipes: THE VIRGIN PRINCESS!!!
All caps. Multiple exclamation marks.
That her ‘purity’ was so interesting and so important angered her. It wasn’t as if it had been deliberate. It wasn’t as if she’d saved herself for whichever prince would be chosen for her to marry. She’d simply been so sequestered there’d been zero chance to find even a friend, let alone a boyfriend.
And now it transpired that her Prince was to be Xander of the small European state of Santa Chiara. He certainly hadn’t saved himself for her and she knew his fidelity after their marriage was not to be expected. Discretion was, but not that sort of intimate loyalty. Or love.
‘Do you ever stop asking questions?’ she asked, trying for cool and sophisticated for these last few moments of escape.
Wishing she could be as accepting as so many others who didn’t doubt their arranged marriages. Because this was it. Tomorrow her engagement would be formally announced. A man she’d barely met and most certainly didn’t like would become her fiancé. She felt frigid at the thought. But those archaic royal rules remained unchallenged and offered certainty. The Princess of Palisades could never marry a commoner. This disguise tonight was a lame leap for five minutes of total freedom. The only five minutes she’d have.
‘Not if I’m curious about something.’
‘And you’re curious about—’
‘You. Unbearably. Yes.’
Heat slammed into every cell. She couldn’t hold his gaze but she couldn’t look away either. His eyes were truly blue—not enhanced by contacts the way hers were—and hot. He seemed to see right through her mask, her carefully applied powder, her whole disguise. He saw the need she’d tried to hide from everyone.
She was out of place and yet this was her home—where she’d been born and raised and where her future was destined, dictated by duty.
‘You have the chance to experience this...’ he waved at the ballroom full of beautiful people ‘...yet you’re hanging back in the shadows.’
He voiced her fantasy—reminding her of her stupid, crazy plan. She’d arranged for a large selection of costumes to be delivered to the nurses’ quarters at the hospital for tonight’s masquerade. No one would know that one dress, one wig, and one mask were missing from that order. All done so she, cloistered, protected, precious Princess Eleni, could steal one night as an anonymous girl able to talk to people not as a princess, but as a nobody.
She could be no one.
And yet, when it had come to it, she’d swiftly realised her error. She’d watched those guests arrive. Clustered together, laughing squads of friends—the kind she’d never had. How could she walk into that room and start talking to any of them without her title as her armour? What had she to offer? How could she blend in when she hadn’t any clue what to discuss other than superficial niceties? She’d ached with isolation, inwardly mocking her own self-piteous hurt, as she’d uselessly stared at all those other carefree, relaxed people having fun.
Privileged Princess Eleni had burned with jealousy.
Now she burned with something else, something just as shameful.
‘I’m biding my time,’ she prevaricated with a chuckle, drawing on years of practising polite conversation to cover her shaken, unruly emotions.
‘You’re wasting it.’
His bluntness shocked that smile from her lips. She met his narrowed gaze and knew he saw too much.
‘You want a night out, you need to get out there and start circulating,’ he advised.
Her customary serene demeanour snapped at his tone. ‘Maybe that’s not what I want.’
The atmosphere pulsed between them like an electrical charge faulting.
Heat suffused every inch of her skin. Now she truly was unable to hold his gaze. But as she looked down he reached out. The merest touch of fingers to her chin, nudging so she looked him in the eye again. She fought to quell the uncontrollable shiver that the simple touch generated.
‘No?’ Somehow he was even closer as he quietly pressed her. ‘Then what do you want?’
That she couldn’t answer. Not to herself. Not now. But he could see it anyway.
‘Walk with me through the ballroom,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I dare you.’
His challenge roused a rare surge of rebellion within her. She who always did as she was bid—loyal, dutiful, serene. Princess Eleni never caused trouble. But he stirred trouble. Her spirit lifted; she was determined to show strength before him.
‘I don’t need you to dare me,’ she breathed.
‘Don’t you?’ He called her bluff.
Silent, she registered the gauntlet in his hard gaze. The glow of those blue eyes ignited her to mutinous action. She turned and strode to the edge of the alcove. Nerves thrummed, chilling her. What if she was recognised?
But this man hadn’t recognised her and she knew her brother would be busy in the farthest corner of the room meeting select guests at this early stage in the evening. Everyone was preoccupied with their own friends and acquaintances. She might just get away with this after all.
‘Coming?’ She looked back and asked him, refusing—yet failing—to flush.
He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow, saying nothing, but everything, with a sardonic look. The rock-hard heat of his biceps seeped through the fine material of his tailored suit and her fingers curled around it instinctively. He pressed his arm close to his side, trapping her hand.
He walked slowly, deliberately, the length of the colonnades. To her intense relief, he didn’t stop to speak to anyone, instead he kept his attention on her, his gaze melting that cold block of nervousness lodged in her diaphragm.
It turned out she’d been wrong to worry about recognition. Because while people were looking, it was not at her.
‘All these women are watching you,’ she murmured as they drew near the final column. ‘And they look surprised.’
A smile curled his sensual lips. ‘I haven’t been seen dating recently.’
‘They think I’m your date?’ she asked. ‘Am I supposed to feel flattered?’
His laughter was low and appreciative. ‘Don’t deny it, you do.’
She pressed her lips together, refusing to smile. But the sound of his laugh wasn’t just infectious, it seemed to reach right inside her and chase all that cold away with its warmth.
‘There.’ He drew her into the last alcove, a mirror of the first, and she was appallingly relieved to discover it too was empty at this early hour.
‘Was that so awful?’ he asked, not relinquishing her hand but walking with her to the very depths of the respite room and turning to face her.
Inwardly she was claiming it as a bittersweet victory. A date at last.
‘Who are you?’ She felt foolish that she didn’t know when it was clear many others did. ‘Why do they look at you?’
He cocked his head, his amusement gleaming. ‘Why do you look at me?’
Eleni refused to answer. She was not going to pander to his already outsize ego.
His lazy smile widened. ‘What do you see?’
That one she could answer. She smiled, relishing her release from ‘polite princess response’.
‘I see arrogance,’ she answered boldly. ‘A man who defies convention and doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks.’
‘Because?’
She angled her head, mirroring his inquiring look. ‘You don’t wear a mask. You don’t make the effort that’s expected of everyone else.’
‘And I don’t do that—because why?’ His attention narrowed—laser-like in its focus on her.
‘Because you don’t need to,’ she guessed, seeing the appreciation flicker in his eyes. ‘You don’t want their approval. You’re determined to show you don’t need anything from them.’
His expression shuttered, but he didn’t deny her assessment of him. Her heart quickened as he stepped closer.
‘Do you know what I see?’ Almost angrily he pointed to the mask covering most of her face. ‘I see someone hiding more than just her features. I see a woman who wants more than what she thinks she should have.’
She stilled, bereft—of speech, of spirit. Because she did want more and yet she knew she was so spoilt and selfish to do so. She had everything, didn’t she?
‘So what happens at midnight?’ That tantalising smile quirked his lips, drawing her attention to the sensuality that was such a potent force within him.
She struggled to remind herself she was no Cinderella. She was already the Princess, after all. ‘Exactly what you think it will.’
‘You’ll leave and I’ll never see you again.’
His words struck deep inside her—sinking like stones of regret.
‘Precisely,’ she replied with her perfectly practised princess politeness.
She shouldn’t feel the slightest disappointment. This was merely a fleeting conversation in the shadows. Five minutes of dalliance that she could reminisce over a whole lot later. Like for the rest of her life.
‘I don’t believe in fairy tales,’ he said roughly, his smile lost.
‘Nor do I,’ she whispered. She believed in duty. In family. In doing what was right. Which was why she was going to marry a man she didn’t love and who didn’t love her. Romance was for fairy tales and other people.
‘You sure about that?’ He edged closer still, solemn and intense. ‘Then flip it. Don’t do the expected. Don’t disappear at midnight.’ He dared her with that compelling whisper. ‘Stay and do what you want. You have the mask to protect you. Take what you want.’
She stared up at him. He was roguishly handsome and he was only playing with her, wasn’t he? But that was...okay. Intense temptation and a totally foreign sensation rippled through her. The trickle soon turned into a tsunami. From the deepest core of her soul, slipping along her veins to ignite every inch of her body.
Want.
Pure and undeniable.
Couldn’t she have just a very little moment for herself? Couldn’t she have just a very little of him?
He couldn’t hide his deepening tension. It was in his eyes, in the single twitch of the muscle in his jaw as the curve of his smile flatlined. That infinitesimal edge sharpened. But he remained as motionless as the marble column behind him, hiding the ballroom from her view. Waiting, watching.
Take what you want.
That dare echoed in her mind, fuelling her desire.
She gazed into his eyes, losing herself in the molten steel. She parted her lips the merest fraction to draw in a desperate breath. But he moved the moment she did. Full predator—fast, powerful, inescapable—he pressed his mouth to meet hers.
Instinctively she closed her eyes, unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his warm lips teasing hers. Her breath caught as he stepped closer, his hands spanning her waist to draw her against him. She quivered on impact as she felt his hard strength, finally appreciating the sheer size of the man. Tall, strong, he radiated pure masculinity.
He took complete control, his tongue sliding along her lips, slipping past to stroke her. Never had she been kissed like this. Never had she kissed like this, but his commanding passion eviscerated any insecurity—and all thought. Lost to the sensation she simply leaned closer, letting him support her, pressing her into his iron heat.
Heavy, addictive power flowed from him to her as he kissed the very soul of her. His arms were like bars, drawing her against the solid expanse of his chest. A moan rose in the back of her throat and he tightened his hold more. She quivered at his defined strength—not just physical. It took mental strength to build a body like his, she knew that too.
Her legs weakened even as a curious energy surged through her. She needed him closer still. But his hand lifted to cup her jaw and he teased—pressing maddeningly light kisses on her lips instead of that explosive, carnal kiss of before. She moaned, in delight, in frustration.
At that raw, unbidden response, he gave her what she wanted. Uncontrolled passion. She clutched at him wildly as her knees gave out—swept away on a torrent of need that had somehow been unleashed. She didn’t know how to assuage it, how to combat it. All she could do was cling—wordlessly, mindlessly begging for more. The intensity of his desire mirrored her own—she felt him brace, felt the burning of his skin beneath her fingertips as she touched his jaw, copying his delightful touch.
But now his hand stroked lower, pressing against her thigh. Breathless she slipped deeper, blindly seeking more. But she felt his hesitation. She gasped as he broke the kiss to look at her. Unthinking she arched closer, seeking to regain contact. But in the distance she heard a roaring. A clinking of—
Glasses. Guests.
Good grief, what was she doing?
Far too late those years of training, duty and responsibility kicked in. How could she have forgotten who and where she was? She could not throw everything away for one moment of lust.
But this lust was all-consuming. All she wanted was for him to touch her again—decisively, intimately, now.
Brutal shame burned from her bones to her skin. She had to get alone and under control. But as she twisted from his hold a long tearing sound shredded the unnatural silence between them. Time slowed as realisation seeped into her fried brain.
That too tight, too thin strap over her shoulder had ripped clear from the fabric it had been straining to support. And the result?
She didn’t need to look to know; she could feel the exposure—the cooler air on her skin. Aghast, she sent him a panicked glance. Had he noticed?
Of course he’d noticed.
She froze, transfixed, as his gaze rested for a second longer on her bared breast before flicking back to her face. The fiery hunger in his eyes consumed her. She was alight with colour and heat, but it wasn’t embarrassment.
Oh, heavens, no.
She tugged up the front of her dress and turned, blindly seeking escape.
But he drew her close again, bracketing her into the protective stance of his body. He walked, pressing her forward away from the crowd she’d foolishly forgotten was present. And she was so confused she just let him. Through a discreet archway, down a wide corridor to space and silence. He walked with her, until a door closed behind them.
The turn of the lock echoed loudly. Startled, she turned to see him jerkily stripping out of his dinner jacket with barely leashed violence. His white dress shirt strained across his broad shoulders. Somehow he seemed bigger, more aggressive, more sexual.
Appallingly desire flooded again, rooting her to the spot where she clutched her torn dress to her chest. She desperately tried to catch her breath but her body couldn’t cope. Her lips felt full and sensitive and throbbed for the press of his. Her breasts felt tight and heavy and, buried deep within, she was molten hot and aching.
All she could do was stare as he stalked towards her.
All she could think was to surrender.
