Page 63 of Let Me Love You

Victor is suddenly on his feet, and I can feel his presence behind me. He comes so close that his chest pushes against my back, and it takes everything in me to not fall into him. “What was that all about?”

“She’s giving us the night together.” I lean in and whisper, “So, don’t blow your chance.”

I glance up at him, and his eyes are so sincere I almost reach out to touch him. Almost.

He tugs me. “Come on. I have the perfect idea for us.”

***

After an outfit change for the both of us and a flight—and a protest from me about taking his private airplane—back to New York, we’re seated in his SUV. All of this seems like too much for a simple night out.

He insisted I wear one of my restricting dresses while he dons one of his tailored suits.

I had thought when we were getting “private” time that there would be a lot more kissing. But as I wrap my arms around his neck, Victor shakes his head.

“Not now.”

I rear back, removing my hands. I’ll always respect his boundaries, but I don’t understand—not when his slacks are tented with his hardened cock. “Why not?”

He cups my cheeks, and I have the sudden urge to pull away. This is too … intimate.

Victor leans in and gently kisses my mouth. He moves his hands from my face to the nape of my neck. As if I’m a starving woman, I deepen the kiss, and he doesn’t resist. Our tongues dance together in rhythm as I fight the growing heat between my legs. I pull his button-down shirt out of his pants and slide my hands up his torso, my fingers finding every groove in his muscled abs.

He groans into my mouth and pulls away. His breathing is ragged as he looks into my eyes. “We’re here.”

I furrow my eyebrows and look out the window. We’re parked, and I hadn’t even realized we stopped. His mouth and the taste of his lips on mine are so intoxicating that I need more. “We can always skip—”

He shakes his head. “This is important.”

His voice is more serious than I’ve ever heard. I imagine this is what he sounds like while at work. I have to admit I’m intrigued.

We straighten ourselves before climbing out. A tall hotel looms in front of us—not as grand as the Tinner Hotel but still something way out of my tax bracket.

Leaning closer to Victor, I say, “I thought we were doing something important.” I motion to my dress. “Why else would I have to wear this torture device of a gown?”

He chuckles. “We’re not here for a room.”

With my interest piqued even more, I allow Victor to lead me up the stairs and into the hotel. I tell myself his touch doesn’t affect me, but goose bumps inch up my skin, practically calling me out on my lie. We’ve been dancing around the borderline of physical and intimate, too close for my liking. But I can’t pull away now.

We need to keep up the front of a happily married couple.

People stand near the entryway, mingling while servers walk around with trays. We don’t stop until we reach the ballroom. Tables topped with cream linens and rose-filled vases take up the majority of the room.

Most of the chairs are occupied by even more chattering people. Everyone here seems to know each other and more than a friendly “hello.” I glance at everyone’s faces but something seems off.

“Why don’t I see anyone I recognize?”

Victor pulls me farther into the room, past the tables, past all the people, and toward a stage. We climb up the steps, and there’s a bunch of items placed on tables and stands. A few art pieces rest on easels, bright colors splashed onto the canvas.

Someone comes up behind us. “Mr. Barlowe, you made it.”

We turn around, and a woman with graying hair stands there with a kind smile. Her crow’s feet are prominent as she holds her grin.

“I’m sorry we’re late.”

She shakes her head. “No, you’re right on time. The auction is about to start.”

I cock my head to the side. “Auction?”