Page 131 of Princess Avenged

Zuben nods.

Grateful that he hasn’t cut me off again, I continue on the topic. “This year, Shana decided to add a live auction with a very exciting element.”

“And what is that?” Zuben takes a sip of his sidecar.

“Patrons will have the opportunity to bid on an evening out with—well some are dates with local celebrities, and others with some of our staff.”

Zuben frowns. “Shana is prostituting the staff?”

“No!” I exclaim. “It’s all in good fun, I assure you. All of the volunteers for the auction are of legal age and have willingly agreed to participate, and none of our patrons would expect…” My cheeks are burning.

Shaking my head, I close my eyes for a beat.

When I open them, Zuben’s leaning forward slightly, his attention directly on me. “Will the pleasure of your company be on the auction block, Ms. Cross?”

“Me?” I shudder. “No, I…”

Setting down my cocktail glass, my fingers slip and the glass tumbles forward. I reach for it, and the top of the thin vessel ends up sandwiched between my palms.

I crush it.

“Oh!” Embarrassment floods me and I catch the stream of blood with my other hand to make sure none lands on the white tablecloth.

“You are bleeding.” Zuben’s elegant fingers take my injured hand, and he studies it with a brazen intensity that makes me feel unbelievably vulnerable. Inhaling deeply, he studies my cut palm.

His hold is at once gentle and firm, his skin transferring an electric heat into mine that makes me ignore the pain from the cut. My heart races as he bends forward and pulls a tiny shard of glass from the wound.

Blood oozes from the cut, and he bends to press his mouth against my palm.

An intense shiver of pleasure races through me that I don’t understand, and my face heats as if I’m too close to a raging fire. His lips on my skin feel foreign, his action’s shocking, but my pain eases, and time seems to stop as I relish the thrill of his lips moving against my skin and his tongue unmistakably flicking over my wound.

Still with his mouth on my palm, his gaze lifts to meet mine, and I realize my mouth is open, my breath thready, and even more shocking, desire is pooling between my legs. Desire like I’ve never felt before, not even reading the hottest romance novel or making out with the few boys I briefly dated in college.

“Mr. Zuben,” Shana says.

I pull my hand back and turn to see that she’s returned, standing just in front of our table, her eyes wide.

“That was—” her back stiffens, “—I’m sorry, but that was highly inappropriate. Not to mention unsafe, your mouth against an open wound…”

Zuben nods to acknowledge her, but continues to stare at me, and something in his expression has changed. Something in his entire body, his entire presence. There’s now something animalistic, something wild lurking under the staid and elegant businessman’s formal exterior. It scares me.

“Ms. Johnson is right,” he says looking at me, “but the alcohol will kill any bacteria from my lips. Do you have any blood borne illnesses Ms. Cross?”

I shake my head.

“And did I make you uncomfortable?”

I shake no again, because uncomfortable isn’t the word I’d choose to describe how he made me feel, although I do admit that the damp heat between my legs is making me feel some kind of way, especially as he leans closer again and inhales, like he can smell my unexpected arousal.

“Interesting.” He leans back.

“Excuse me?” My voice comes out hoarse. Can he tell I’m aroused!

“Please forgive me, Ms. Cross.” He’s all business again. “Seeing you injured, I acted on instinct.”

“Of course.” My heart is racing a million beats a minute, and I have so much energy flowing through me I’m finding it hard to stay still. My body, so normally cautious—especially around men—wants to get closer to him, to touch him, to have him touch me again.

The waiter appears and pulls out the table.

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