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Click. Click. Click.
His grip tightens on me. I tilt my chin up and rest my gaze on his handsome jawline. Then I rise up on my toes and plant a kiss on his cheek.
Click. Click. Click.
I move my lips to his ear. “I’m not sure that was required, but it felt right.”
He looks away from the cameras and meets my teasing gaze. There’s fire in his eyes. I can see his desire to conquer the world—or at least the New York City rumor mill.
“Ready to go inside and have some fun?” I whisper.
“Damn right, I am.”
I wait for him to look away. Maybe flash another of his model-perfect smiles at the camera. But he ignores the event coordinators trying to politely move us away from the photo op space and through the revolving doors.
“May I kiss you?” he asks. His voice remains low, and likely unnoticed by the surrounding staff, photographers, and guests.
“Yes,” I whisper.
His lips brush mine and I close my eyes. His right hand holds tightly to my waist, drawing me closer, and his left cups my jaw. Briefly, I wonder if he’s trying to block the camera’s view of our lips so they will never suspect this kiss is a soft peck on the lips between friends.
His lips part, and the kiss takes an unexpected turn. His hand holds my jaw as if he fears I’ll pull away. I press closer. His tongue touches mine and I welcome the invitation. His stubble brushes against my face, and my body responds, arching against him. I can feel his kiss from the tips of my toes to my hard nipples. My breasts practically beg him to deepen the kiss, and touch me everywhere.
As if sensing the reckless abandon that replaced all reason when his tongue touched mine, Gavin releases his hold on me and steps back.
Click. Click. Click.
I open my eyes. Cameras fill my peripheral vision. Logically, I know that kiss was one piece of our performance tonight. But I don’t care. It doesn’t matter if Gavin felt he needed to kiss me. I’m ready and willing to kiss him again.
And all of New York and beyond will see my body’s response to a real Gavin Black kiss. I’m guessing the images will appear online in a matter of hours.
Gavin takes my hand and leads me away from the photo op area. He leans his head toward mine as we approach the revolving doors. “Good thing you didn’t wear a bra,” he murmurs.
I glance up and see his gaze still fixed on my chest.
“It wasn’t necessary,” I tease. My tone sounds coy and playful even to my own ears. But I’m not acting, not now. I’m still riding the high of the kiss. I’m letting desire wash over me.
“Neither was that kiss,” he murmurs.
I raise an eyebrow. “That was just for fun?”
“Yes.”
Fun—that’s never been one of my goals, in or out of a relationship. And I know it’s pretty far down on Gavin’s list too. After all, success at all costs and playtime don’t always go hand-in-hand.
“Are you ready for more?” I pull my hand free from his and step into the revolving door. Gavin follows me into the tight space. His front presses up against my back. It might not be as obvious as my nipples, but I can feel his excitement again my low back.
“Kayla,” he murmurs.
“We’re walking into this ballroom with a secret.”
I keep my voice low. I’m relishing the thrill of tricking the society that always turned a critical eye toward me—just like my ex. Whether their scrutiny was real or an idea planted in my head by Mr. Mistake to erode my confidence, it doesn’t matter. Tonight, I have the upper hand. I’m in control of what they see, and what they believe.
Wow, I get it now, I think. I understand why Gavin is willing to go to extreme lengths to maintain control of how the world sees him.
I step out of the door and into the ballroom. A sixty-five-foot ceiling soars above us, featuring elaborate murals. Marble columns line the perimeter of the grand hall, and tables fill the center of the room. The 1920s era space is a work of art, designed in the Italian neo-renaissance tradition.
“Beautiful,” I say.
