Touching, but too light for my liking.
"Two minutes," he said, his mouth close to my ear. "That's all I need."
"I have a dinner service to run." My protest was weak even to my ears.
"I know." He dipped his head, his lips brushing mine, barely a contact, more a suggestion. "You were extraordinary out there. You know that?"
"Daemon—"
"The way you walked up to her." His voice dropped to something low and unhurried, the tone he used when he had all the time in the world and knew it. His hand at my waist tightened.
"Cool as anything. Like she was nobody. Like you'd already won." His mouth moved to below my ear, where he nibbled my neck, the sensation heading directly south. "Do you have any idea what that did to me?"
My hands hovered near the front of his jacket. I was not pulling him closer. I was absolutely not pulling him closer. Damn it, I’d need to remember to replace my gloves.
"I have guests," I said. My voice came out lower than I intended.
"You do." His thumb found the zipper at the front of my monogrammed jumpsuit and slid it down, ever so slowly, until I slapped my hand over his.
Strange, considering all I wanted was for him to zip that zipper as low as it would go. And then some.
"And in about forty minutes, when this is over." His lips grazed my jaw. "I'll show you exactly what watching you take charge did to me."
There was nothing tentative about the kiss that followed. Deep and long, it left my lips feeling bruised and my body crying out for more.
I was tightening my grip on his jacket when he broke away, leaving me panting with raw need. "That's not fair," I choked out.
"No." I could feel him smile against my cheek. "But you've got three courses to get through, and I want to make sure you're thinking about me for all of them."
He stepped back to give me room, then calmly zipped up my jumpsuit as if he hadn't just dismantled me against a supply shelf in two minutes flat.
"After you," he said.
I went back to my dinner. My hands weren't steady when I replaced my gloves, and neither were my legs. The only steady thing about me was the pulse of need between my thighs. My face was warm enough that I was grateful for the kitchen heat to blame it on.
Through the doorway, I could see the head table. Samantha and Justin sat frozen, barely touching their food. The chapter president kept trying to engage them. They smiled. Nodded. Stayed in their seats.
Because leaving would raise questions they couldn't answer.
Daemon's phone buzzed. He scanned the message and held his phone up so I could read Chase's text.
An anonymous violation was filed Tuesday. They claimed to have witnessed the violations firsthand.
"Filed before the chicken was even in the building." His voice was icy. "Idiots."
"Not complete idiots," I said. "Look at the bones of it. The complaint comes from a witness who doesn't exist. The planting was done by a ghost nobody can name. And the two executives drove out here to stand in front of my brand-new cameras, touching nothing, the same afternoon. Every piece deniable. Every piece at arm's length. The only mistake they made was the calendar."
I looked across the room at the pair. "And the calendar is enough to work with."
FIFTEEN
DAEMON
Thursday night, helping Nadia pack up after the Roundtable dinner, I realized I was completely screwed.
Not the fun type of screwed either. The terrifying, life-altering, no-going-back sort.
She was laughing with one of her staff, stacking containers of leftovers. Her hair was escaping its bun, her navy jumpsuit was spotted with sauce, and she looked exhausted.
