His words made my gut clench. I snapped my compact closed and turned away from him, hoping he couldn’t see the blush rising on my cheeks. “I need to go to the bathroom to wash up,” I announced.
“I’d really rather you didn’t.”
I spun around to glare at him, but Cal had his eyes on his cuffs, readjusting them again in an exaggerated casual move. “Excuse me?” I bit off.
Blue eyes lifted to meet mine. I went completely still. “You heard me, Deena.”
We were across the room from each other now, but my thighs clenched. Thighs still coated in sticky release, drying in streaks on my skin. My underwear was drenched and uncomfortable.
And he wanted me to leave it, because he was a complete and utter pervert.
And why the hell was I turned on again?
“Absolutely not,” I clipped, and turned for the door.
Before I could get there, it swung open. My mother’s face appeared, eyes narrowing slightly as she took in my appearance. Her gaze flitted to Cal and back to me. She painted a smile on her face. “We’re about to do the toasts. Chop-chop! You can work out whatever it is you’re fighting about later.”
“We aren’t fighting,” I said, stomping toward the exit.
My mother gave me a significant glance that said,Really, Deena? Messing this up too?She stepped out the door and held it open while Callum ambled toward us without a hair out of place. He smiled at my mother, sweeping her fingers into his as he reached her.
He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “I can see where Deena gets her perceptiveness.”
My mother blushed.
Cal smiled, eyes sliding to mine. “And her beauty.”
“Oh, Cal,” my mother said with a titter, swatting at his broad shoulder. “Don’t let my husband hear you say things like that, or he might have to have words.”
My father would never have words. He didn’t care aboutanything my mother did as long as his drink was refilled on command and his dinner was hot and ready when he wanted it.
Cal inclined his head, then extended one elbow toward each of us. He smiled serenely at me as I vibrated with rage beside him, but I had to take his proffered arm unless I wanted to make a scene. The three of us re-entered the main ballroom with Cal the perfect gentleman as our escort.
The perfect gentleman who’d just screwed me to within an inch of my life. I wasn’t the same woman I’d been an hour ago.
The speeches were full of lavish praise and even more lavish lies about my parents’ relationship. I clapped when it was appropriate, then snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter to down the whole thing in a gulp. Cal watched my every move, and when I’d given the empty glass back to the staff member, we were ushered to our seats.
I took the opportunity to slip from Cal’s grasp and head for the washroom. It was beyond a heavy wooden door, with a little tower of rolled-up washcloths waiting for me on the marble vanity. I grabbed one, wetted it, and sequestered myself in one of the stalls to scrub away the remnants of what we’d done.
My underwear was a disaster. There was no way I was putting it back on. I stuffed it into the trash can in the stall and told myself everyone made mistakes. This just happened to be one of mine.
Then I touched up my makeup and took deep cleansing breaths in front of the mirror to compose myself. I would refuse to sign the contract. I’d block him again. I’d make sure I never saw him again, because his presence dropped my IQ to precipitously low levels.
The washroom door swung open, and I smiled at the older woman who stepped through. Tossing my used washcloths in the pail designed for that purpose, I brushed past her and walked back to the ballroom.
I spent the entire meal pushing food around my plate, wanting the evening to end. But it didn’t end. It kept going, and going, and going.
When the last plate was cleared, I prepared myself to make my escape—and Cal swept me into his arms and dragged me to the dance floor.
“What are you doing?” I hissed.
“Dancing.”
“I don’t dance.”
“You do now.” His arm clamped around my back, and I could feel the whole length of him down my front. His palm was broad and warm where it held my hand, his head tilted toward me as if I were the only woman in the room.
He was toying with me, dragging this out so I knew he was still in charge. He was angry that I’d rejected him after what we did, and now he was needling at me the way he always did, trying to get me to make a scene. I set my jaw and glared up at him, and his lips curved into a smile. The hand on my waist slid down to my hip, and Cal’s eyes lit up with interest.
