A scandalized and amused guffaw. “Now you’re going too far, Prime! Your poor wife looks like she wants to spontaneously combust.”
“She will if you give me bed access.”
“You’re too much. No, Prime, you’ll have to wait until you get home. Unfortunately, it isn’t that kind of party. Now, if you’d excuse me?”
“I understand. Deanna, thank our host for being gracious.”
I manage to lift my chin from his chest. “I’m so, so sorry, he made me.”
Ricardo’s eyes sparkle with joy. “I doubt that very much. Enjoy the evening, you two.”
I adjust my dress as Prime leads me into the hall. Ricardo watches until we reach the stairs and begin to descend.
“That was fucking close,” I hiss at Prime, feeling like I might pass out from stress. “What the hell was that, asking for his bedroom?”
Prime’s hand grips my ass and squeezes. “I was trying to make it realistic.”
“Stop that.” I swat him away. “What the hell did you shove up my dress?”
“My fingers. Soon to be my tongue and my?—“
“No, asshole, the file.” I stop at the base of the steps, whispering hurriedly. “It’s digging into my spine.”
“We won’t stay much longer. Now I have an excuse. I can’t wait to get my pretty young wife back to my bed.”
“You’re disgusting. You really think he bought it?”
“There wasn’t anything fake about what we just did.”
My heart rockets again. “Prime?—“
“We’ll talk about it at home. For now, hold tight. I’ll stay by your side until we leave.” He leans in, lips brushing my cheek. “Trust me, baby, okay?”
I don’t want to. Every alarm’s screaming in my brain. What just happened was wrong, dangerous, and reckless. But despite myself, I truly believe Prime never would have let me get anywhere near what he was doing up there if he had any say in the matter.
“No more secrets.”
He slips his hand into mine.
CHAPTER 18
DEANNA
Iunzip my dress.
Prime shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it carefully in the closet. He unbuttons his cuffs and watches as I wriggle the file from the small of my back. I toss it down on the bed, the paper like a terrible secret revealed.
He undoes his top.
I try not to stare at his chest, but it’s hard. He’s so damn beautiful. The tattoos, his tanned skin, his sculpted and gorgeous torso. It’s unfair but I have to focus.
“What is it?” I gesture at the folder, holding my dress up with my other hand.
“That’s a list of contacts.” He pulls the shirt off the rest of the way and adds it to the drycleaning pile.
“Did we go to that party tonight for you to steal it?”
“No, not that in particular.”
