‘You know this is inevitable,’ he says. ‘You can play at being difficult, but we both know where this ends.’
‘No, we don’t. You don’t even want me. You want what I represent. The company. My father’s business. It’s never been about me.’
Eddie steers me off the floor and through the sea of people and shoves me into a shadowed alcove. ‘It hasalwaysbeen you, Maggie. You can’t run from who you are.’
‘I willneverbe yours.’
He doesn’t seem to hear it, his hands roaming down my spine and gripping my backside.
‘Stop it,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Get off me.’
‘I don’t think I will. What are you going to do about it?’
Nausea rips through me as Eddie forces me against the wall with his hips. Grinding into me while pinning my hands behind my back.
The next moment is a blur of motion. Roman is there, all dangerous eyes and shoving hands. He pushes Eddie back hard enough that he stumbles, and before I can process it, Roman’s fist connects with Eddie’s jaw with a sickening thwack.
The room seems to freeze, eyes turning to the spectacle.
I’d be lying if I said that seeing Roman hit Eddie didn’t give me a bit of a flutter in the nether regions.
Eddie straightens, wiping at his mouth, his eyes ice-cold. ‘You’ll regret that, you poxy English fuck.’
‘Touch her again.’ Roman’s voice shakes with rage. ‘And you won’t get the chance to threaten me.’
Eddie’s gaze flicks between us, then over our shoulders at the crowd. ‘Youdon’t belong here. She does.’
He turns and melts back into the crowd, throwing a final rage-fuelled look at Roman.
My hands are trembling.
‘My dad won’t throw him out. His family are too important. He won’t want to offend them.’
Roman looks at me with helpless frustration in his eyes. ‘Then what can I do?’
I swallow. ‘Grab some tequila. And dance with me until I’m too tired to think.’
The night blurs into ragged movement and noise. We dance until my feet ache and my head spins, until the world narrows to the solid press of his body. I want to blame the alcohol for the way my cheeks heat whenever Roman’s eyes snag on mine. That it’s the shots’ fault and not the fact that he looks delicious with a haze in his eyes and a loosened shirt collar.
As the night winds down, we end up in one of the quieter corridors, breathless and laughing far too loudly. He backs me gently into an alcove, eyes dark, voice low.
‘God, you’re something else, Maggie.’
‘If it weren’t for Eddie, it might have been close to a perfect night.’ I sigh, leaning heavily against the wall.
‘Let me help you forget,’ he says, dropping to his knees and looking up at me.
When he tugs my panties aside and slides his mouth over my wetness, I lose any misgivings I might have had.
Christ on a bicycle, his damned tongue.
I bite down on my lip to stifle a moan, tightening my fingers in his dark tresses. Seeing Roman here, on his knees, feels like a fever dream, and I can’t help but touch him. To check he’s really between my thighs.
The slide of his tongue across my clit reminds me that this is very much happening. It’s reckless to let him touch me like this while tucked in an alcove, but the way his tongue grazes me has me rooted to the spot. I can barely breathe, far less make rational decisions.
Roman moans, and the deep rumble vibrates against me, weakening my knees. Good lord, it’s been far too long since I’d sought out this particular pleasure. Tipping my head back against the wall, I arch my hips to give Roman more access. More… everything.
‘So demanding,’ he says, grinning up at me. ‘I’ve been dying to taste you.’
