“Business.” That’s all he gives me.
As if I’d believe business is done between a woman dressed in a skintight Tom Ford dress and a man wearing nothing but gym shorts and a tee.
“What business?”
His lips part, then press together again. He breaks eye contact, looking past me as he exhales sharply.
“Confidential,” he says, glancing back with a slight tilt of his head.
“I’m not stupid,” I rage. “I know exactly what you did!”
“Do you now?” he drawls. “Please, do tell. Because I’m dying to hear what kind of fan fiction you’ve come up with.”
“Don’t mock me.” I jab his chest again.
“You’re jealous,” he murmurs.
My face burns. It’s jealousy-soaked, alcohol-fueled anger.
“Why would I be jealous?” I yell, my voice cracking. “Because you can’t keep it in your pants? BecauseI’m supposed to smile for the cameras while you do whatever the hell you want? I’m angry because you’re making me look like an idiot!”
“So you’re not jealous?”
“Over you?” I gesture to him, pretending to look disgusted. “I couldn’t care less.”
“Mm.” He hums. “So if I did fuck her, you wouldn’t mind hearing about what I did with her?”
I don’t wait for him to finish the sentence. I swing—pure, emotional, humiliated instinct. He catches my wrist midair, like he was expecting it. His hand clamps around my wrist and the room goes silent.
“Admit you’re jealous,” he murmurs, that little flicker of amusement making my rage spike into the stratosphere.
“I’m not!” I grunt in frustration, swinging my free hand in a sloppy, emotional arc meant more to push than to hit.
He grabs that wrist too, pinning both my hands against his chest, against the hard heat of him.
“You’re a liar,” he growls, finally letting the heat bleed into his voice.
His stupidly handsome face is inches away from mine. I’m shaking, furious, and wanting him so badly I could scream.
“And you’re an ass—”
He grabs my jaw, cutting me off. His fingers slide up the side of my face, spreading heat through my skin, and press into the hinges of my jaw, forcing my lips open just a fraction. My mouth parts on instinct. A shocked, involuntary gasp escapes me.
That’s the only warning I get before he crashes his mouth into mine in a violent, consuming collision that rips my lungs open and fills them with fire.
His body slams into mine, my wrists trapped against his chest, his mouth devouring.
There’s nothing soft about Dominic’s kiss. It’s furious and hungry. It tastes like heat and anger, and the entire night exploding at once.
A low growl slips from his throat and into my mouth as his lips move against mine.
His hand on my jaw slides, roughly tilting my face up, angling my mouth against his.
I make a broken, breathless sound I’ve never made before.
Another deep groan rumbles out of him. It vibrates against my lips, down my throat, and deep into my stomach.
My hands, still pinned, twitch uselessly against his chest, holding me still, forcing me to take it. So I do the only thing I can. I bite him, pulling his bottom lip between my teeth hard.
