Page 48 of Finally, His

Richard laughed. “Sounds like Sarah. Come on.”

He led Charlotte down the North Hall. Her sweater tapped the back of her thighs. She’d tied it around her waist to hide the wet stain caused by Richard’s magic fingers.

Her gaze drifted to the marble and limestone floor. She’d yet to spot one of the famous fossils trapped in the tiles sourced long ago from a prehistoric quarry. She’d have to stop and study them another day.

The show started in two hours. Between hair and make-up and any last-minute fittings, they needed to hustle. Not to mention, she needed time to calm her body down. His hand, however, firmly gripping hers, only reminded her of what they could do, and her body responded enthusiastically. The wet between her legs threatened to chafe her inner thighs.

Had she ever been that easy? No, only for Richard.

When they’d first met at Club Accendos, he’d intimated the hell out of her. His presence filled the room. His dark eyes, which could drill into a person’s soul if you gazed into them long enough, had bored into her. Yet, even then, she’d immediately known she was safe with him. Warm energy radiated from his every pore, and she soon relaxed.

Now, if only her body could get on board with the fact she was safe walking through one hundred of Washington, DC’s, elite wearing the final look of Laurent’s fashion show—the wedding dress.

Her sandals clicked on the floor in time with her heartbeat. Richard didn’t seem hurried or concerned that his touch would continue the ache in her body or her desire for him to sweep her away into a hall closet and have his way with her again.

“What’s going on in your beautiful head?” He kept his gaze locked on the rotunda ahead.

“How much fun it’d be to turn around and spend the day in bed.”

He laughed. “You’re taking my request for truth today seriously. Good.” He finally peered down at her. “I have something better planned.”

“Your better is always better.” The smile crossing his face told her he was pleased with her answer. She’d meant the words.

They slowly made their way toward the makeshift dressing rooms at the end of the South Hall.

Empty of visitors, there was so much to see along the way.

Men and women in black shirts and pants sporting crisp white aprons busied themselves on either side of them. They snapped white linens into place on round tables. They unstacked tall towers of gold cane chairs and settled them around each table. A woman to her right fussed with a floral arrangement of orchids and lilies.

In a few hours, more than one hundred people would crowd the tables. Charlotte would walk down the center as patrons sipped glasses of champagne and wine and enjoyed a simple late lunch. Her runway walk would take her to the rotunda, where more people would be sitting—and watching her. She was to walk around the hexagon shape in the center that held a marble statue of Aphrodite, erected just for the show.

“Laurent is such a romantic,” Richard said as they passed the statue. “I should expect a lot of lace and pink today?”

“I’ve only seen the wedding dress. Sarah said he wanted everything to be a surprise the day of. But she did say his collection is meant to be a reflection of the strength it takes to love and be loved.” She hadn’t meant to say so much about it. Richard’s handling that morning must have done more to loosen her tongue than she’d realized.

She swallowed hard as they drew closer to where she’d get ready for the show. Her unwelcome nerves crawled up her legs. She buckled a little at the entrance of the North Hall.

Richard dropped his hand, and his arm was around her bicep in a nanosecond. Tension furrowed his brow, and her stomach dropped. “My body doesn’t seem to get the message that everything is going to be fine,” she tittered.

One side of his mouth quirked up, the lines smoothing across his forehead. “It will.” His arm circled her shoulders, and they continued their advance toward the people bustling about.

“If you do exactly as I say. And remember my fingers.”

A small twinge went off between her legs.

They stepped behind a fabric wall, and she stopped short. “Oh, hello.” She’d have thought they’d stepped into Club Accendos if she didn't know better.

A blonde woman in nothing but a T-shirt hiked up over her back grasped two arms of a tall director’s chair as a man alternatively rubbed and spanked her bare ass. Another guy was being laced into a rope corset by two other men. A woman, tall and thin, moaned off to the side as a short brunette dressed in head-to-toe velvet played with her nipple jewelry.

It was all considered fairly light play for their circle of friends. Still …

Then again, she’d signed a contract saying she’d consented to be backstage and possibly witness various forms of “warm-up play,” as Sarah described it. So long as any playtime didn’t interfere with the fashion show, Sarah said it was fine. Charlotte didn’t believe anyone would exercise that freedom, however.

Still, good thing it would all end by the time they stepped away from the dressing area and into Washington’s society audience. Not everyone understood their world. Perhaps that was the point? Play backstage while those sitting in the audience had no idea what was really going on? A reminder they were surrounded by friends?

Sarah appeared from behind one of the models, a stunning brunette with large almond-shaped eyes and generous curves. The Femme Domme rushed up to Richard and kissed him on one cheek and then the other. “Ah, you’re here.” She sent her dark eyes Charlotte’s way.

Richard inclined his head down to Sarah, who was much shorter than him. Most people were. “I need to speak with you,” he said quickly.

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