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Even Adrian Riley.
He apparently intended for this meeting to be a quick one. We’ve only made it about halfway across the room before the man appears by my side. “There will be another gathering tomorrow night. I hope to see you there.”
I smile without giving a damn as to how it might come across. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
Ten minutes later, we’re back in the car, Evelyn slumped on the seat beside me, her face upturned to the window. “So, are you going to admit it now?” she asks as James pulls away from the curb.
“Admit what?”
She twists around to face me, her lips pursed in a thoughtful frown. “That you just wanted arm candy. It’s not like you needed much help in the ‘wooing’ department. At least not professionally.”
I choke out a laugh. I can’t help it. It’s gruff. Grudging. She has no damn clue. I decide to keep it that way. “I think you underestimate your own allure, Ms. King. Especially when you spent most of the night tugging your hair. I’m sure you caught a few eyes in your direction.”
She’s doing it now. Stroking her fingers along her neck, trying to avoid the ravaged flesh underneath… I angle myself away from her, but the front of my slacks tighten regardless.
Her hand falls to her lap. “And there he is, ladies and gentlemen. The real Graeme Bellamy.”
I frown. “What makes you feel that you could, or ever would, know the so-called real me?”
She shrugs, her expression smug, those eyes alight. “I know the real you,” she says, matter of factly. “I’ve even seen him with his pants off.” James is in the front seat—a fact that she either ignores or doesn’t seem aware of. “He isn’t much to behold, to be honest…”
I flash a smile to hide just how much those damn words sting. “I’ve seen the real you, as well.” I cut my gaze down to her breasts, and I can tell, even in the darkness bathing the car’s interior, that she flushes red.
“The real you is also an ass.”
We don’t say anything else by the time James pulls up before the Royal. It’s an equally silent trip up to my suite. Only after the door closes behind us do I realize the implications of what her standing beside me, her lips stretched around a yawn, means. She doesn’t seem to understand until she starts for the stairs and cranes her head back to see if I follow. Then she falters over the first step, and I can almost see the reality hit her like a punch to the chest.
Oh.
“Why Evelyn, I have to admit that I find it refreshing when you don’t argue, for once,” I tell her as I start forward, eventually pushing past her to mount the stairs. “I take it that you’ve decided to accept my offer.”
“N-No, I—”
I deliberately yawn, cutting her off. By the time I enter the hallway, she’s still on my heels. Near the guest bedroom, she pauses, her hand reaching for the doorknob, but I seize her wrist, dragging her forward.
“I trust you’ll keep your hands to yourself, tonight.” She digs her heels into the floor and grasps the doorway before allowing herself to be hauled over the threshold.
“I’m not—”
“Oh, but we already discussed the fact that you feel more comfortable in my bed.” I tug on her arm, and she has no choice but to follow, staggering into my chest. I don’t mean to take the teasing any further, but with her eyes on me, her jaw set defiantly, I can’t stop myself from hooking a hand around her waist and finding the zipper to her dress. “I believe we also established your preference for sleeping in the nude.”
I don’t intend to undress her myself. At least not until she lifts her arms, her expression daring. “I guess we have.”
I tug on the zipper. The gown loosens. Slides. I barely make out the flesh underneath before her hands palm my chest, seeking out the buttons of my shirt. “And you sleep without your shirt.” She’s deliberately clumsy as she undoes the first clasp. Then another. Her eyes don’t leave mine once, even as her breathing quickens, the shadows of her breasts heaving at the edge of my vision. Irritation flares. My cock stiffens. She knows damn well how to swirl a reaction within me and stroke it to her advantage.
She toys with the third button, biting her lip in concentration. I yank on the skirt of her gown, and it falls in a heap at her feet. Her first instinct is to flinch and cover herself. I can see one of her hands twitch toward her, aching to shield the dusky nipples I don’t even attempt to pull my gaze from. She’s blushing. Stiff. Flushing. Mine.
The fingerprints ground into her hips say so. I shake my head to clear the bothersome thought. It’s still bloody there, lingering as she undoes the last few buttons and peels off my suit jacket before following with the shirt itself. The tease, she digs her nails in as she drags the sleeves down each shoulder.
We stand there at an impasse, her clothed only in underwear, her scent hanging in the air. She moves first, stepping back coyly to find the edge of the mattress and climb onto it. I follow her, taking up my side, watching her every move this time.
She lays back, and I don’t take my eyes off her. She doesn’t take her eyes off me. I can see the ridges and valleys of her body spread out beside mine. It’s almost as tempting as it had been to have her breathless and writhing on the counter, my name on her lips, her taste on my tongue.
“G-Goodnight, Mr. Bellamy,” she says sweetly. The minx.
“Retiring so soon, Evelyn?” I spread out and prop one of my hands beneath my head, giving me enough leverage to look down on her, claiming the pillow beside mine. “I thought now would have been the perfect time for you to deliver the next stage in your advice. I think I more than masteredlistening.”
She stiffens but, to her credit, doesn’t look away. “What about watching?” she tosses back. “Seeing how your words are affecting people.”
