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He gently turns me around, gives me a playful slap on the ass and a little shove forward into the bathroom, then closes the door between us.
I don’t really have to pee, but I try anyway, wanting to be prepared for what’s waiting for me in the hall. After washing my hands, I smooth a few stray pieces of hair, pinch my cheeks, and pucker my already bright red lips. Then I open the door.
Midas isn’t there. I look one way down the hall and then the other. It’s empty. When I start walking back towards the dining room, a hand reaches out of an open doorway, grabs me and pushes me against the doorframe, pinning my hands above my head. Disoriented, I struggle against the grip before realizing it’s Midas. My tense muscles relax, fear turning to arousal in an instant.
“Did you think I’d forgotten about you, my crown?”
I dip my head and bite my lip.
“I could never forget about you." His breath is soft and heavy on my ear. “You’re under my skin. In the fire of my heart. I’ve searched for you for centuries, and now that I’ve found you, the only force in heaven and hell that could make me let you go is you.”
His exaggerated words make me feel things I’m too scared to feel. Because this is supposed to be one night, a party, maybe a one-night stand, nothing more. But I want more. I want a lot more. And if he’s just toying with me, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Sealing off my heart, I tell myself it’s just a line and try to lighten the mood. “Centuries is quite a long time.”
His eyes spark with orange and red flames, and this time I’m too close to dismiss it as a trick of the light. My mouth falls open, and he grins. “I wasn’t exaggerating.”
My heart rate spikes. What the hell is going on? There’s no way I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing. I blink, refocus, blink again. Still his eyes burn and not like he’s just looking at me intently. There are actual swirling patterns of red and orange at the center of his iris.
He studies me for a moment, then lets go of my wrists, and holds his arm out like a gentleman escorting a lady to a ball. “Come.”
I feel dazed. Completely confused. I want to ask him what just happened, but I can’t make my mouth move. How would I even ask that question? He’d probably think I’m crazy. I probably am crazy. Maybe I had more to drink than I thought. I bite my lips, not wanting to embarrass myself by asking Midas why his eyes just glowed. Yeah, that had to have been in my head.
He gets me so worked up it’s impossible to think straight. I’m more than a little disappointed that he didn’t make good on his promise and take me right there in that doorway. But I told him I wanted him to decide, so I’ll be patient. Besides, the anticipation is doing things to me that I don’t want to stop, building my arousal, messing with my head, making me feel more eager than I’ve ever felt.
When he leads me in the opposite direction from the dining room, my disappointment turns to exhilaration. He must be taking me some place more private. Finally.
My nerves pulse in a frantic rhythm, heart pounding, cheeks warm. I try to guess where he might lead me. The kitchen. A discreet closet. A bedroom.
When we reach the massive door at the end of the hall, he doesn’t open it. He pushes me against it and dominates my lips. My mind screams, this is it, this is it, this is it. My pussy clenches and flutters in time with my racing heart.
He fondles my breast, puckering my nipples by thumbing them through my dress.
“Midas,” I moan.
All at once, his warmth is gone. He smirks at me, offers his arm, and holds open the door.
“Tease,” I mutter, ignoring his raised arm, curved at the elbow, a gentlemanly offer.
Before I can pass him, his arm flies out in front of me, blocking my path. “I told you I wanted to play, my wealth.”
Our eyes hold and the breath steals from my lungs. My voice is a desperate whine when I ask, “How much longer?”
He kisses the corner of my lips. “Soon.”
Chapter 8
Midas leads me down a short stairway that opens back into the main room. Only now, people are dancing. It’s not the mindless swaying of a club or the type of dancing I’ve done in the past. Everyone is paired up and waltzing. At least, I think it’s a waltz. I don’t know much about dancing.
He guides me right to the center of the crowd, which is a little infuriating since it puts us on display. I’m still trying to compose myself after our little make-out session in the hall, and I’m sure my hair is all messed up.
“I don’t know how to dance,” I whisper.
“You don’t need to.” He holds my hand in his and slides his other hand to my back, pulling me against his hard body. “Just follow my lead.”
Normally, not knowing how to do something makes me feel tense and edgy, anxious. But when my thoughts spiral, Midas just holds me closer, so close I can feel every muscle as he leads me through the steps of the dance. There’s no hesitation. No give.
This close, with all of his strength wrapped around me, it’s almost impossible to misstep. I’m close enough to feel the next movement just before it comes.
