I don’t.
“Look, man, she doesn’t seem to be interested in you. Why don’t you walk away?”
“Oh?” August leans an elbow on the counter, blocking my view of the bartender and cutting him out of the conversation entirely. “Why don’t you tell him whose roof you live under, Elena? Who you invite into your bed?” He smirks, giving me a once-over. “Better yet, tell him who you wore that dress for tonight, and then remind us both who will be taking it off you later.”
Those words seep into my flesh, melting through my bones and settling deep in my core. Rage and lust war beneath my skin, setting me ablaze. My teeth grind, my cheeks heat, and I can only stare after him, dumbfounded.
His emerald gaze sparkles mischievously behind his glasses. “Go ahead, baby. You let him know. I’ll give you two minutes, and then I better find you in the bathroom waiting for me.”
“For what? My punishment?” I mutter, mostly to myself.
Just as I think August walked away, either not hearing or not caring about what I’d said, I’m startled by a rough hand sliding around my neck. He sweeps my hair over my shoulder before dropping his head and whispering against my skin, “Is that what you’re hoping for, Little Vice? Are you wet just thinking about it?” His other hand lands in my lap, gliding alarmingly close to the center of my thighs. My heart beats wildly, and I wonder if he can feel it when his palm brushes over my collarbone. Embers burn deep and low in my belly, erupting to flame the closer his hand gets to my center. “Thinking about the way you’ll bite your tongue to muffle your cries from everyone in this building as I spank your ass red for being such a cock tease? Are you making a mess all over your thighs right now as you imagine it?”
“My God.” My eyes flutter shut, and it’s a battle to keep my composure as my body wants to forget we’re in a room full of people. Of our family. I know our pose looks like nothing morethan August standing behind me, playing with my hair. Nobody can see the hand he has beneath the bar, twisting in the fabric of my dress like he wants to tear it off me. Nobody knows what’s going on here but him and me, and somehow it makes me frantic with need.
“Remember who you’re a slut for, Elena. Not for him,” he rasps, nodding toward the bartender, who’s now huddled at the far end, pretending to ignore us. “He can’t give you what you need. Only I can do that. So, close your fucking tab and remind him who you belong to, then meet me in the bathroom so I can remind you too.”
His hands leave my body, and I’m aching.
“The longer you make me wait for you, the longer I make you wait to come.”
Fuck.
I slump against the bar, all of the oxygen held captive in my lungs being set free. My heart is racing, my body trembling. I know I’ve soaked right through my panties, August was correct about everything. The only thing he got wrong was me having an open tab. So, I don’t say another word to the bartender, or anyone at all, as I slide off my stool.
Glancing around the gallery, I make no note of either of my brothers or Dahlia. The only two people I recognize are Darby and Penelope, still sitting at the same table Darby was at when I walked in. They’re deep in conversation of their own, but as I drift across the gallery floor, Darby glances back briefly, gaze locking with mine. She smiles slyly before turning back to Penelope.
I know August and Darby are close now, so if he has no fear about her knowing what we’re up to, then I don’t need to either.
I don’t even know what we’re up to, honestly.
I don’t know what he’s going to do, all I know is he’s desperate to get me alone, and that’s enough. He may lift mydress over my hips and fuck me against the sink, or put me on my knees and slip his cock down my throat. I’m drenched at the thought of it.
His rough words are complemented by soft hands, like even when he’s dominant and rugged, his touch is laced with care. Pleasure is the ultimate goal, even when we both want it wrapped in a bit of pain.
It’s addicting.
There is a small alcove at the back of the showroom, tucked behind the main gallery. As soon as I turn the corner, I find August leaning against the wall with one foot pressed against it and his arms crossed at his chest. He flicks a brow, eyes dropping to the watch on his wrist. I know damn well it didn’t take me two minutes to get here. He must read the challenge in my expression, because he simply pushes off the wall, glancing around to ensure we’re not being watched or followed, before opening the bathroom door and allowing me to slip inside.
He follows, letting it fall closed behind him. I spin, our gazes clashing in a simmering blaze as he clicks the lock into place—the sound of it echoing inside the room like a salacious promise. He nods toward the sink. “Sit.”
His tone doesn’t invite argument, and as much as I love to defy him, something about it has me complying. My heels click loudly as I make the two steps and hoist myself up. The bathroom is immaculate, more like something you’d find in someone’s home than a public space. The counter spans the entirety of the front wall, with one sink at its far end. Terracotta-colored towels and rugs accent the sky-blue walls, and it smells like cinnamon and vanilla.
August closes the gap between us, standing in front of me as his hands fall to my knees. They spread for him of their own accord, and his palms slide up my thighs, dragging my dress with them as his eyes sear through my own. His emerald iriseshold so much—lust and passion and need, but also rage and pain and fear.
I wonder if mine tell the same truth—the one neither of our lips can.
As much as we may fight it, as much as we may run, nothing will ever feel like this. It’s the craze we’ve been chasing all our lives, only ever finding it in the brief period we belonged wholly to each other, and that the tragedy of our past will forever prevent us from experiencing it again without the guilt and the pain.
That maybe these stolen moments are all we have left, and maybe we’re terrible people for taking them, but that fact alone isn’t enough to stop us. We’re more than a force of nature; we’re cosmic. It’s gravity that pulls us together, and the outcome may be a detrimental collision of planets, but it’s not enough to stop us from chasing the stars we only find in the other’s eyes, from touching the clouds only felt on the other’s flesh.
I cup his face, bracketing his jaw as my thumb reaches for his lip. His eyes fall closed, and he trembles at the touch, but doesn’t pull away. Every fragment of my shattered soul begs me to kiss him, and I’m determined to do just that as I slide my palm behind his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. I tug him against me, and his strong arm loops around my waist, flushing our bodies together.
My lips brush his, but the shuddering breath he lets out against them has me halting. His fingers dig into the skin of my back, like he’s anchoring himself to my body, and his forehead presses against my own. Our mouths are nearly touching, the blaze of it hot against my lips.
“Kiss me, Augustus,” I whisper, but it rises from my throat like a plea.
“I can’t.”
