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She arched a brow. “And what makes you think such a thing?”
He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I don’t think so. I know so.”
“Really?” She tried to make her response dry and caustic, but it came out as anything but.
“We could do it here, in front of all these people, if you’d like.” His chest grazed against hers. He waited for a second, gauging her reaction. That night, there’d been something wanton deep within her that she’d allowed to awaken. Was that daring, that desire, still there?
When she didn’t back up, he knew he could continue pushing her. “We could go up on that stage. I’d make sure the microphone was still on so that everyone could hear the pretty little noises you’d make as I drove my cock inside of you. Imagine the jealous anger your sexist asshole of a boss would feel, seeing you getting fucked by a man you deserve.”
There was shock on her face. But there was lust, too. There was a need she’d never had fulfilled.
“This is wholly inappropriate,” she said, her voice a mere whisper over the din of the crowd. And yet she still hadn’t moved from his side
“So you said. And yet you aren’t walking away.” He leaned in closer and softly breathed against her neck.
That did it. Broke the spell.
She shivered and jerked her head upright, a firmness to her mouth. “You need to leave. Now.” She turned and craned her neck, presumably looking for Security.
“Not yet. We have unfinished business.”
“No, we don’t. We can’t possibly.”
“I have proof.” He pulled his hand out from his jacket pocket, a long black feather dangling from his fingers. Softly, he brushed it against her wrist. Skylar glanced at the black feather he raised again and twirled in front of her face.
Confusion.
Then recognition.
Julian grinned, watching the pieces fall into place as she looked back and forth between the feather and his face. Her sinful mouth parted slightly in a small gasp when she realizedpreciselywho he was.
“It’s you!” she gasped.
“Miss me?”
* * *
Skylar breathlessly pushedthrough the crowd to get away.
She felt like an idiot.
His eyes. His voice. His scent.
She should have recognized him instantly.
Part of her had, but she’d told herself she was being ridiculous again. So many times in the past three months, she’d thought she spotted him. Apparently, there was no shortage of men with dark brown hair, green eyes, honed jawlines, and rangy, muscular bodies in New York.
And this man had dark, velvety blue eyes, not electric green eyes, so of course, she was mistaken for thinking she knew him.
She’d told herself the same thing even as his deep rumbly voice speaking filthy suggestions had made her tremble in a way only Jay’s had.
As she always did when someone or something reminded her of him, she’d worked hard to shove that evening out of her mind. And yet, here she was, reliving that night in the present. Or at least one very specific part of it.
She was running from him.Again.
Instead of facing down the man who’d changed her life, she was being a coward. But what other choice did she have? Earlier, he’d aroused her so intently she’d almost gotten to the point where she no longer cared that she was in a ballroom surrounded by stuffed shirts—the same stuffed shirts that could make or break her career. And that was even before he’d pulled out the feather.
Thatfeather.
