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"For fuck's sake, Wynn," Fitz said, exhaling hard.
"Were you watching me in your tub?" I asked, knowing from the fire in his eyes that he had. "I figured you would have been dying to touch me—my dress," I said.
"I'm not touching you again, Wynn." I'm sure he intended that to sound more firm than it came out.
"Oh, but you want to, don't you?" I asked, turning to face him. "It's killing you not too."
"You need to stop," he said, voice more of a groan than a demand.
"Oh, saved by the bell," I said when the doorbell chimed. "I will see you around, Mr. Buchanan," I added, flipping the gold back to black, loving the way his gaze was glued to the movement until I turned and walked away.
Within half an hour, the party was in full swing.
There were about twenty guests, all in all, plus the staff that moved around with the calm, but purposeful efficiency that came with experience with these sorts of events.
Meanwhile, I felt completely out of place.
I was an outsider who was forced to be on the inside. Which made me hug the walls, and make pleasant but superficial conversations with anyone who would speak to me, so I didn't feel quite so awkward.
Then, about an hour and a half into the event, it happened.
The slimy jerk snuck up on me.
With that thing old men who felt entitled to your body did.
He put his hand low on my back, so low that his little finger was actually resting at the curve of my ass.
Damnit.
I'd been keeping such a close eye on him, ducking out and heading to the kitchen when he seemed to be trying to move closer to me.
"I've been trying to catch you all night," he said, whiskey breath near my ear.
"I must be very slippery," I said, stomach tightening.
"Yes, well, I've got you now," he said, his other hand moving to grab my hip, pulling my body closer to his.
Now, I'd been cornered by a man more than once in my life. I'd had unwanted hands on me. I'd felt that sick, rolling sensation in my stomach. But in those other situations, I'd been able to be loud and rude to get away, or to alert someone else to come and help me.
I didn't have that luxury in this situation.
The reasons were obvious.
This was someone my boss had been courting—in the business sense—for months. I was just the house help. If I was rude to Robert, Fitz would have needed to take a stand with him in the situation if he hoped to save the buyout.
"Mr. Cloyton," I started, trying to take a step back, which only made his fingers sink in deeper.
"I like how my name sounds on those pretty lips," he said, making me feel a little queasy.
"Wynn," Fitz's voice called, sounding tight. "Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment?" he asked. "There's an issue with the caterer," he added, giving me the out I so desperately needed.
Robert had no choice but to release me, but not before telling me he would find me later. It sounded more like a threat than a promise.
I scurried away out of the living room, only to be snagged by Fitz as I almost rushed past him without seeing him. His hand grabbed my wrist, pulling me with him up the back staircase for privacy.
"You okay?" he asked, looking down at my face that must have been flushed because it felt hot.
"Ugh. Yeah. He's a complete asshole," I declared, waving down at my dress, then doing a little circle so he could see the spots where Robert had put his hands on me.
A growling noise moved through Fitz as he reached out again, but this time not to grab me.
Oh, no.
His hand drifted down my side, over my hip, then around my lower back, making all the gold from Robert's hands disappear.
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault. How were you supposed to know he was a groper unless you saw it in action?" I asked.
"I made you be here," he added, his hand finished erasing, but getting busy making his own marks with the whisper-soft tips of his fingers. "You've been uncomfortable all night."
"You noticed?" I asked, gaze on his face since his was downcast, watching his fingers create patterns in my dress.
"Of course I noticed," he said, his voice a low, smooth sound that washed over my skin, making a shiver move through me. "I just couldn't get away."
"You wanted to?" I asked, needing to hear the words from him.
"Couldn't keep my mind on anything else since you walked down the stairs in this dress," he told me, fingers gliding up my belly to tease across the underside of my breasts.
"You like it?" I asked, dropping my voice a bit lower too. At that, his gaze cut to mine, showing me heavy lids and molten eyes. "Did you get a good look at the whole thing?" I asked, turning ever so slowly until my back was just barely brushing his chest.
