I search for somewhere—anywhere—safe to look. When I land on a photo of Luke with his parents, I flip it over on the desk. I’m enjoying Sawyer’s mouth on me too much to be distracted by any of that. I center myself back in the moment by weaving my fingers through Sawyer’s hair, the strands twinkling golden around my satin gloves. He’s not distracted. His tongue laps me like he’s desperate to taste me.
I whimper a moan. “That’s it, baby,” I whisper.
Sawyer stills. I glance down to see the glint of those familiar hazel eyes staring up at me.
“Sorry.” I affectionately neaten the messy shag of blond hair off his forehead. “I forgot you don’t like nicknames.”
“I like that one,” is the gruff reply.
His tongue glides in long, languid circles over my clit. I’m half sitting on the desk—Luke’s desk—with my dress around my waist, my leg over Sawyer’s shoulder, and his gifted mouth between my thighs. The worst night of my life somehow became one of the best.
“I’m…close…”
Sawyer groans his approval, but I’m careful to clamp a gloved hand over my mouth to hide the long moan when I come in hardshudders. I fall back onto the desk, gulping in air, blinking in a daze at the fan motionless above me.
“Wow,” I pant.
Sawyer’s hot breath doesn’t disappear when the tremors finally fade. He kisses my thigh, hugging me against him until he shimmies my dress down over my hips.
When he stands, I capture his belt. “My turn,” I say.
He shakes his head, and he uncurls my hand from the buckle, lifting it to his mouth to kiss my knuckles.
“After the dinner,” he says. “We’ll go back to my place. I want to take my time with you.” His finger traces the bottom of my lip, and he smiles softly. “I got a bit carried away.”
“Am I a wreck?”
“You’re beautiful…but your lipstick is smudged.”
“I guess I should tidy up before the auction starts.”
Stroking my cheek, he brushes a wayward tendril of hair behind my ear. “Probably.”
Outside the office door, he buries his nose into the crook of my neck and places a gentle kiss there.
“I’ll wait for you inside,” he says. “Up the back so they don’t kick me out.”
His fingers begrudgingly untangle from mine as we split in opposite directions for the restrooms. Kristen flies around the corner just as our hands part.
“Hey, Sawyer,” she says.
He ignores her and heads into the men’s room.
She narrows in on my flushed cheeks and smeared lipstick, and her mouth curls into a sneer.
I know that look.
It’s a declaration of war.
20
A thunderstorm moving in unexpectedly
I can do this.
The stage sways beneath my feet when I peek around Luke and squint out into the packed dining room. Conversations have dwindled to a murmur, and crystal glasses and silverware sit untouched on the tables. I swallow hard. Two hundred pairs of eyes stare back at me.
“Good evening, everyone.” Luke’s voice is a warm welcome in the room. “Thank you for indulging my fragile ego and clapping for my arrival. I’ll hold fast to that memory when I’m home in dreary England next Christmas and my family groans as I enter the room.”
