“Stephen, not here. We’ll be caught, and the scandal will be ridiculous.” There’s amusement in her voice, and very little denial in her body.
I smile against the skin on her leg, kissing my way along her thigh. Her skin is so soft, and damn, she smells so good. Warm lighting from the sconces casts a low, golden glow over her skin, making her look ethereal. “I don’t care who catches us. I have to taste you, remind you that you belong to me now.”
I feel her still at my words, but I don’t stop kissing toward her sex. Almost there. My mouth waters at the thought of licking her pretty cunt.
“I don’t belong to you or anyone.”
I ignore her words, let her believe what she wants, but she is mine. She’s been mine since the moment I took her virginity. Hell, the moment I saw her in the nightclub. And I had seen her first, even if she never knew that fact.
I push her dress up to her hips and pin her against the wall with my hands. She sucks in a startled breath as my tongue glides along her opening.
I groan. Just as I thought—sweet as sin on the palate.
My cock presses hard against my pants. I’m going to take her back to my place tonight, and I’m going to fuck her in my bed, lay claim to her once and for all.
But now—right at this moment—it’s her turn to enjoy. To revel in what I can do for her. I slip two fingers into her tight cunt, tease her as I suckle her clit. She undulates against my mouth, seeking release, and I’m going to give it to her.
“Stephen…” Her breathy moan makes my head spin. Damn, I like the sound of my name on her lips. It’s like the purest cocaine in the world, the best high a person can have.
I lick her good, suckle that sweet button relentlessly until she shatters in my arms. I hold her upright, allow the tremors tosubside, her pleasure to wane, before I, with one last kiss on her thigh, pull back and help put her panties back into place.
The sight of her, allowing me the privilege of touching her so intimately, shatters something cold and dark within me, and I know I can’t allow anything to come between us.
I’ve fucked a lot of women, but Dallen… Dallen is my endgame.
I stand and adjust her gown, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. Her breathing softens, the flush in her skin slowly fading. Down the hall, the ballroom noise grows louder—auctioneer chatter, claps, laughter—reminding us we’re expected back.
“Ready?” I murmur.
She nods, still a little shaky. I take her hand, guiding her gently as we walk back toward the double doors. The moment we step inside, bright lights and the swell of voices swallow us.
And that’s when Alex Romero appears.
He materializes suddenly before us, blocking our path, a glass of champagne in hand, smiling widely like we’re old friends. We’re far from friends and I don’t want him or his kind anywhere near me or Dallen.
I stiffen, fight not to rip the bastard’s smug head off when he leans in and kisses Dallen’s cheek, bold enough to make my blood boil.
Careful, Romero…
“Dallen,” he drawls. “You look stunning this evening. Glad to see you here tonight. I did wonder if you and your family would be on the guest list.”
I force myself to stay polite but can’t hide my disdain. I crack my neck, the tension coiling within me wanting an outlet. Preferably, a fist to Romero’s nose.
“Mr. Romero,” Dallen says, surprise in her voice. “Good evening to you.”
I clear my throat, wrapping my arm around Dallen’s waist and pulling her close. “And you know each other how?” I ask, unsure how Dallen could have crossed paths with this family, and yet, here we were.
“Redwood and Tully are our new law firm, Dallen is our contact there,” Alex says, too friendly, too bold for my liking. “Elio and my family feel most fortunate to have such an accomplished and well-respected lawyer and firm behind us.”
Their lawyer.
Alex reaches out and brushes a hand along Dallen’s arm like he has any fucking right.
I ground my teeth and stare at Romero until he gets the hint to back the fuck off. He catches my eye and whatever he sees in mine is enough that he heeds my silent threat. Alex smiles, tight and sharp.
“We need to get back to our table,” I say, moving Dallen before she’s had a chance to wish our unwanted guest a good evening.
I guide her back to our seats—right beside her parents—ignoring their displeasure that Dallen and I are at least back on speaking terms. Little do they know we’re on a lot more terms than that.
