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The irony of it did not escape her. Hell was exactly how she felt. Acutely conscious of Dex's brooding presence beside her, she glanced up at him and had the terrible conviction that unless she escaped from this party pretty, damn quick, hell was where she was destined to stay!
'Your stepbrother certainly has some interesting friends,' Dex commented, one dark brow arching sardonically as he looked around the room.
Beth followed his superior gaze to where it rested on a particularly voluptuous woman, who appeared to be wearing three fig leaves and nothing else. What the brief costume had to do with Hallowe'en, Beth could not imagine. But, glancing back at Dex, she let her lips twist in a cynical smile. Obviously the girl in question knew why. Dex was drooling. How typical, Beth thought bitterly, and took the chance to edge away from him.
Catching sight of Mike and Elizabeth, she made her way towards them. Suddenly a sharp tug on the tail of her costume had her falling back against a rock-hard body. Fighting to retain her balance, she squirmed around and found herself staring at Dex's shirt-front. She put her hands flat against his broad chest and tried to push him away.
'Will you let go of my tail?' she snapped. Why, oh, why had she let herself be talked into wearing this ridiculous costume?
'But you have such a nice tail, Beth.' Her furious green eyes clashed with his and she saw the devilment lurking in their silver depths. She felt his hand twisting the offending appendage around his wrist until his palm settled firmly over her bottom, and she knew damn well it was not the tail of her costume he was talking about.
'In fact, I love your costume. Cats are my favourite animal.' His other hand stroked slowly, very deliberately, down her spine, making her shudder. 'It is purrfect for you,' he teased huskily. Well aware of her involuntary reaction to his blatant caress, tossing back his head, he laughed out loud at the expression of frustrated fury twisting her delicate features.
His laughter, the flash of his brilliant white teeth, was too much for Beth.
'Add a pair of white fangs to your big mouth, and, hey presto! The perfect Count Dracula!' she spat back.
He pulled her closer, one hand easing up her back to clasp the back of her head, untangling the tail of her costume and settling his other arm more firmly around her, if such a thing was possible.
'Count Dracula. I like that, Beth.' His hand slid to the nape of her neck and she felt the pressure of his long fingers on her throat.
'Especially if you let me kiss your neck,' he declared outrageously, his eyes glittering with wickedly sensual intent on her flushed face.
The pulse in her neck leapt beneath his fingers; her body flooded with heat. She swallowed hard, the erotic image he had created swamping her mind. Her hands on his chest, supposedly to push him away, lingered against the soft silk of his shirt. She felt his hard thighs stirring against her, and was made shockingly aware of the man in the most primitive way possible. She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out as his dark head bent and his mouth bit gently, then sucked, on the only bit of flesh exposed by her all-encompassing costume: her throat.
She went weak at the knees, a low moan escaping through her parted lips. Dex moved slightly, his long legs splayed, and he pulled her close between his thighs.
His hands tightened on her buttocks and back. What would have happened next? Beth did not dare contemplate it as Mike saved her from making a complete fool of herself.
'You two dancing, or what?' His cheerful voice echoed on the fringes of Beth's mind.
Dex lifted his dark head and grinned at Mike. 'Dancing—now—thanks to you.' Swirling Beth around, he deftly manoeuvred her into the crowd of dancers.
Mortified, her face burning, Beth stiffened in his arms, wishing with all her heart she was anywhere else but here. Not strictly true, a little voice echoed in her head. Being held close to Dex, his male warmth enfolding her, was as near to heaven as a woman could get.
Fool, she told herself. Dex didn't really want her. He had taken her out in the first place to keep her away from Paul Morris, the man his sister wanted. He had taken her to bed to prove he couid, and she, weak-willed wimp that she was, had let him. How cold-blooded could a man get?
She sighed; the pressure of his hand on her back and the subtle movement of his body against hers was anything but cold, in fact it was the reverse. She frowned in concentration, worried that if she relaxed for a second she would find herself caving into him. She silently cursed her stupid costume yet again. A fine layer of stretch jersey was no protection against the powerful appeal of Dex's muscle-packed body. Her breasts hardened, the nipples rigid against the fine jersey. She didn't know whether to press herself against him to disguise her arousal or pull away from him and take the risk of revealing her vulnerable state.
'Don't worry, Beth. It will put premature lines on your beautiful face.'
His warm breath caressed her brow, and at the softly drawled words her head jerked back in surprise. The damn man could read her mind.
'So what? You won't be around to see them,' she said, shooting him a dismissive glance.
Dex grinned. 'I wouldn't be too sure, Beth.' His grey eyes gleamed with mocking amusement as he held her slightly away from him and added, 'Your delectable body tells a different story.'
'Don't flatter yourself,' she muttered, 'it's the heat. This catsuit is like a strait-jacket.'
Dex chuckled. '"Straight" is hardly how I would describe you.' His glance swept over her slender curves in frank masculine appreciation, and his chuckle changed to outright laughter.
Words failed her. He might find the situation highly amusing, but she was mortified. If he laughed at her once more she would hit him. But cold common sense told her that sparring with Dex was a losing game. Dancing was probably a whole lot safer than trying to argue with him in this crowd. Relaxing slightly against him, she felt his arms tighten around her. It felt so good, and, if she was honest, it was where she wanted to be. With a soft sigh she buried her head on his chest and gave herself up to the music.
Beth liked dancing, and for a large man Dex was amazingly light on his feet. They moved around the floor in perfect unison, not speaking, simply swaying to the sounds of the music. The seductive power of his body had Beth, against all her better intentions, melting against
him.
The tempo of the music changed to a heavy jungle beat, and Dex bent low so that his breath brushed her cheek. 'Do you want to continue?'
