Page 71 of Pretend To Be Mine

The moment the curtain closed behind us, shutting out the roar of the applauding crowd, I grabbed Elizabeth’s hand. “Come with me.”

“Adrian, what⁠—”

“Now.” I didn’t wait for her to finish, just pulled her through the backstage chaos. I walked right past congratulating staff members, models, and everyone else.

I was a man on a mission. No one was going to stop me.

My dressing room was at the far end of the backstage area, private and blessedly empty. I pulled Elizabeth inside and locked the door behind us.

For a second, we just stared at each other. She was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed, still wearing that dress that had nearly stopped my heart when she’d walked out onto that runway.

“You—” I started, but words failed me. How could I explain what it had felt like seeing her out there? The shock, the pride, the overwhelming want that had hit me like a physical blow? I had been dangerously close to creating one hell of a scandal. I was guessing Adrian Blackwell’s erection would have made front page news.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I know I should have asked first, but the model got sick, and Annika said you needed someone and I couldn’t let you down.”

I crossed the space between us and kissed her. She made a small sound of surprise that quickly turned into something else as she melted against me, her hands fisting in my jacket. The kiss was desperate, hungry, fueled by adrenaline and something deeper I didn’t want to examine too closely.

“You were incredible,” I said against her mouth. “Absolutely incredible.”

“I was terrified.”

“You were perfect.” I kissed her again, my hands finding the zipper of her dress. “Do you have any idea what you did to me out there?”

She gasped as I found the zipper and pulled. “Wait, Annika spent so long pinning this.”

“It’s my dress. I can do whatever I want with it.” The zipper gave way and I pushed the fabric off her shoulders, watching it pool at her feet. Pins scattered across the floor. “And it’s nothing compared to the treasure underneath.”

She shivered as my hands found her skin. She had on a flimsy black thong and no bra.

Fuck. Her breasts were amazing. I could stare at them all day.

“Elizabeth, you’ll be the death of me,” I murmured.

I had never felt such raw need. I was absolutely certain I would perish if I didn’t get her. I would walk through a brick wall for her. The woman had me under a spell and I had no desire to ever break it.

“Here?” Elizabeth asked, glancing at the door. “Anyone could come in.”

“It’s locked,” I assured her, already working on the buttons of my shirt. “And soundproofed. The benefits of being the boss.”

She laughed, breathless and wanting, as she reached out to help me with the buttons. “You planned this.”

“I planned nothing. I just needed you.” My jacket hit the floor, followed by my shirt. “After watching you own that runway and watching the men in that audience drool for you? God, Elizabeth, I need you right now.”

Her eyes darkened, pupils dilating with desire. “Then take me.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I lifted her onto the vanity counter, her legs wrapping around my waist instinctively. The mirror behind her reflected our tangled forms.

My mouth found her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, the faint traces of makeup, and perfume. She arched into me with a soft moan that went straight to my cock.

“Adrian,” she breathed, her fingers threading through my hair. “Please.”

I kissed down her throat to her collarbone, my hands mapping the curves of her body. She was all softness and warmth, responding to every touch with gasps and shivers that made me feel powerful and completely undone at the same time.

My mouth found her breast, tongue circling her nipple before taking it between my teeth. She cried out, her grip tightening in my hair, hips rolling against me. I could feel the heat from her arousal.

“I need you,” I muttered against her skin. “I need to be inside you.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “God, yes.”