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“When I first heard you’d gotten married, I wasn’t sure I believed it,” a man standing nearby said to Dane. “But I have to say, married life suits you.”
I barely bit back a snort. Nothing would ever suit Dane less than holy freaking matrimony.
The guy’s wife smiled at me. “Did you ever imagine when you first started working for Dane that you’d one day become his wife?”
Not even in an alternate universe where unicorns existed, animals could talk, and I’d look good in a tutu. “No, I hadn’t seen that coming. Especially since he’s my boss—I don’t believe in mixing business with pleasure. But, well, some things are just inevitable. Fighting the inevitable is quite simply pointless.”
She gave me a dreamy, “it’s all so romantic” smile.
Dane squeezed my hip and put his mouth to my ear. “Dance with me.”
I couldn’t help but tense. I was all for walking away and escaping the conversation, but dance with him? That was, like, the worst idea. I tried making excuses to avoid it, but he ignored them; ignored my body language and led me to the dance floor.
Usually, I melted into him, but I was too stiff with tension tonight. And what did he do? Tugged me closer and held me flush against him.
“Relax,” he coaxed, splaying his hand on my back.
I tried.
I failed.
Never had I felt so uncomfortable being plastered against someone, but my raw nerve-endings simply couldn’t handle the contact. I felt edgy and tingly and far too fucking horny. I was sure he could sense it, but he didn’t comment on it.
Worse, he didn’t give me even a modicum of space throughout the rest of the night. He kept me at his side every minute. The only time I got a reprieve was when I used the bathroom, so I retreated there several times. But as soon as I exited the restrooms, he’d draw me to him, and then the giddy tingles would be back in full force. It was torture.
I’d never been more relieved to return to a hotel suite. Standing in the middle of the living area, I swallowed. “Goodnight.”
His unreadable gaze met mine. “Night.”
With that, we parted ways. After taking a shower during which I made myself come, I slipped on my silk camisole and matching shorts. I pulled the curtain three quarters of the way closed so that the rays of sunlight would gradually brighten the room as it crept into the morning hours. Only then did I slide into bed. My system was so damn tired after a day of being in a constant state of sheer want that I quickly drifted off.
I wasn’t sure what woke me. It could have been a sound, a weird dream, or maybe just a simple case of mental restlessness—I wasn’t sure. But I instantly felt uncomfortable. Tense. Not alone.
I forced my eyes to open. It was dark, but I noticed the figure sitting in the chair in the corner of the room—the moonlight coming through the window streamed over him, leaving only his face in shadow.
Frowning, I lifted my head. “Dane?” I said, my voice thick.
He didn’t respond. He just sat there, taking over the chair in that alpha-male way he had. The arm dangling over the side of the chair held a small glass of liquid.
Had I had a nightmare and woken him? If so, I couldn’t recall any of it. He was still dressed in his shirt and pants, so I doubted he’d been to bed yet.
“Why are you in my room? I wasn’t talking in my sleep or something, was I?” Still no response. Unease crept up my spine. “What’s wrong?”
He took an easy swig of his drink and then let his arm dangle over the side of the chair again. But he didn’t say a word.
I sat up and shoved my hair out of my face. “Okay, you’re starting to freak me out. What’s wrong?”
He leisurely pushed to his feet, his face still in shadow. Seconds ticked by as he simply stood there, tall and still. Just as I was about to question him again, he began to stalk toward the bed. Each step was slow, deliberate, and fluid. My pulse started to quicken.
As he passed through the rays of moonlight that beamed across the room, I got a glimpse of his face. So cold. And yet, his eyes were hot and gleaming.
My stomach flipped, and every muscle in my body went tight. That hunted feeling rushed back. My fight-or-flight instinct stirred, telling me to move, to back away, to put some serious space between us. But I did as I’d done earlier; I froze.
He stopped beside my bed, looking down at me. My eyes were fast adjusting to the darkness, so I could see him better now; see the greed and lust stamped all over his face. My thighs clenched, and I swallowed hard.
