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I’d lain awake for hours. Eventually, I’d given up trying to sleep and simply sat near the window overlooking the New York skyline. And now, tired and groggy, I wasn’t quite as speedy as usual as I moved around the bedroom, getting ready for the conference that would soon start.
My hair and makeup were finally done, though, and I’d pulled on my underwear. All I really needed to do was slip into my suit and high heels. I wasn’t going to have time to eat breakfast, which was a bummer. Maybe I could munch on an apple during the elevator ride or something.
“Vienna, have you seen the—” Dane came to an abrupt halt in the doorway.
I squeaked. Squeaked. But, hell, I was standing there in my damn bra and panties! And there was nothing close that I could grab to cover myself with. “Can’t you knock?”
His dark, broody eyes raked over me, focusing on me so intently it made my scalp prickle. I stilled, feeling trapped. Uncomfortable. Exposed. The air charged with an electric tension that made my body tighten.
I didn’t move an inch. I couldn’t. I felt rooted to the spot by the blatant heat in his gaze. There was something very predatory about him right then. Something that made me feel … not quite threatened, no, but hunted. And yet, a dangerously wicked hunger unfurled in my stomach.
It occurred to me that I’d frozen just like prey. That chafed at my pride. I wasn’t easily intimidated or unnerved. But, yeah, I was rattled right then. Nobody had ever looked at me with such open need and bold possession, like it was their right to do so.
Well, it wasn’t his right. Not at all. But I didn’t dare say that, because it would sound like nothing short of a challenge.
His eyes locked with mine, still hot and hungry. “I figured you’d already be dressed. You’re usually ready on time.”
“I just need a minute,” I practically croaked.
“I see that.” He flitted his gaze over me once more and then left the room.
A shaky breath stuttered out of me. I quickly snatched my shirt and slipped it on, determined to put that little eye-fuck out of my mind and get on with my day. But with my pulse racing and my blood hot, I wasn’t so sure it would be that easy.
When I was finally dressed and ready to go, I headed to the sitting area to find Dane stood there, his expression carefully blank. Okay. We left without a word to each other.
The downward trip in the elevator was … interesting. The moment the doors slid closed, the air seemed to hum and thicken. I’d never been more keenly aware of him; of his scent, of his body, of every single movement he made. Like my sexual radar was honed on him.
My hormones went crazy, the tension mounted, and everything feminine in me reached for him. Honestly, it was almost like the eye-fuck had primed my body or something.
I sat at his side throughout the conference. My nerve endings were so raw and sensitive that small touches—hell, even the mere brush of his arm against mine—could make my entire body react. A spark of excitement would zip up my spine and cause little bumps to sweep along my flesh.
I’d thought the sexual buzz would fade soon enough, but it remained on “simmer” throughout the day. Each touch of his hand on my back, elbow, or hip only seemed to fuel it.
As such, I was a hot mess by the time we returned to our hotel suite after dinner. I quickly changed in my room for the after-reception, lamenting that I didn’t have enough time to get myself off—that would certainly have calmed my libido.
When I exited the room clad in an elegant red dress, a muscle in his cheek ticked, and his jaw hardened. For a moment, I thought he was going to ask me to change. But then he ushered me out of the room, muttering something under his breath.
I frowned. “What?”
“Nothing,” he bit out.
Of course, we played the part of the happily married couple during the after-reception. That meant plenty of tasteful PDA, which we’d mastered at this stage. But it turned out that “performing” was a lot more difficult when the chemistry was so electric. There’d been times in the past when I was able to tune it out, to treat it as white noise—well, to a degree anyway. Not tonight, though. I was wound too tight. It took effort not to jump or tense when he touched me.
He didn’t seem to be having a similar struggle. He was as cool and composed as ever. Though I noticed he occasionally gritted his teeth or tightened his hand on my hip if I whispered into his ear or touched his chest. His eyes kept dropping to my mouth and tracing its shape—each heated glance made my pulse spike.
