She’s fucking dangerous.
And yet, I can’t stay away.
The music fades. Applause ripples through the room as couples separate, but neither of us moves right away.
Her breath is hot against my neck as inhale and exhale in synch. A question hangs in the air.
I make a decision.
“No promises,” I whisper. “No future.”
“Just tonight?” She asks, interest flickering in her eyes.
“Just tonight.” I hold my breath as I wait for her answer.
She considers me for a heartbeat, then nods. “All right.”
I offer my arm. She takes it without hesitation.
If I can have her for just one night, I tell myself.She’ll no longer be a distraction, and I’ll forget about her after she leaves in the morning.
And now I’ve lied to myself three times.
Chapter 3
IRIS
Julian’s hotel room is cast in shadows, but I can still tell that it is vastly bigger and luxurious than my small room on the hotel’s lower floor.
His hand closes around my wrist like a velvet manacle as he steers me through the darkened space and pushes me through French doors onto a moonlit terrace. The night air kisses the bare skin of my shoulders, and the silk fabric of my fancy gown whispers against my thighs as he presses me back against the cool stone balustrade.
“I’ve wanted to do this since you walked through those doors,” he murmurs, voice low and clipped with that delicious British accent that makes every syllable feel like a command. His blue gaze rakes over me, taking in how my shallow breaths push my full breasts against the built-in bra of my dress. “And now I’m going to.”
My pulse hammers in my throat. “You don’t have to tell me flattering lies to get me into bed, I’m a for-sure thing already.” I’m not the girl guys notice making an entrance.
“Iris,” he says. “I’ve not lied to you once this evening and I won’t start now. You’ve fucking monopolized my every thoughtsince you stepped into the ballroom, wearing this incredible dress.”
Before I can answer, his mouth crashes onto mine. No tentative first kiss, no polite exploration, just raw, possessive hunger. His tongue pushes past my lips, claiming every inch like he owns it. I moan into his mouth, fingers curling into the lapels of his tuxedo, and he rewards me by biting my lower lip hard enough to sting.
When he pulls back, his thumb traces the swollen curve of my mouth. “You like that, don’t you? Being taken.”
I nod, breathless. My gaze locks on his. “Yes.”
“Good girl.”
The words hit me like my favorite sugary coffee drink. Hot, energizing, and perfect.
He spins me so my back is to his chest, hands sliding down my arms until he captures both wrists behind me in one large palm. With the other, he yanks the delicate straps of my gown down my shoulders. The silk pools at my elbows, baring my breasts to the warm night of San Isidro.
“No bra,” he notes with dark approval, palming one heavy tit, then the other. His fingers find my nipples, already tight, aching, and he pinches. Hard.
I arch, gasping, pushing my ass back against the unmistakable ridge of his cock straining through his trousers.
“Fuck, you’re responsive,” he growls against my ear. “I’m going to ruin you tonight, Iris. And you’re going to thank me for it.” The thought I had earlier flashes through my mind again. Like I had a premonition about this man.
He releases my wrists only long enough to shove my gown the rest of the way down. It slithers to the stone floor in a puddle of emerald. I stand in nothing but black lace panties and strappy heels, moonlight painting my curves silver.
Julian steps back, drinking me in like I’m the rarest vintage. “Turn around. Hands on the railing.”
