Page 4 of Marrying the Enemy

The role of big brother to a bunch of drunks was painful, but at least Dom had had the eye candy of legs that went on for days. Eve’s breasts were pretty teacups he craved to sip and her hair was long enough to wrap around his fist two or three times. The sparkle off her skirt as she’d swayed her hips gripped him like a hypnotist’s pocket watch every time they crossed paths, moving in and out of the various bars and dance clubs.

When he’d glimpsed her heading to the ladies’ room an hour ago, he had lingered to watch her come back, then grew concerned when he saw a swaggering club goer headed into the same tunnel.

By the time he got there to ensure she was all right, she was dusting her hands. Dom had been so turned on, he had wanted to press her to the wall and test the limits of public decency.

Asking her to dance was as much dereliction of duty as he allowed himself—and it was pure, erotic torture. She had natural rhythm and undeniable sensuality. When she had boldly looked into his eyes and rubbed up against him, he’d caught the fragrance of anise and lilac and the tang of her sweaty night. He wanted that smell all over him.

He had wanted her badly enough in those moments to recognize the danger she posed. He’d proposed to his fiancée specifically because she didn’t get under his skin. He’d had a front row seat to a man consumed by his own emotions—two, in fact. His memories of his grandfather were dim, but they were similar, chilly recollections of a man haunted by a desire to settle a score. His father had been driven by the same crusade of anger, his grudges wearing away any softness in his soul, leaving only the hard, gnarled center.

Growing up in that fugue of antipathy had taught Dom to tamp down, bottle up and otherwise ignore his own feelings, lest they twist him into a similar, embittered version of himself. He never allowed anyone to needle him past his own control so, when Eve’s lissome figure and alluring gaze had tempted him to forget his responsibilities, he’d made himself walk away with only that tiny taste of her against his lips.

There was nothing satisfying in being so noble, especially when he finally poured his future cousin into his hotel bed and went to his own in the penthouse. Dom had every kind of shower, trying to douse the hunger gnawing at him, but still only tossed and turned.

When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he rose and dressed for a grueling, early-morning workout, planning to punish this craving out of himself, if that’s what it took.

The fitness room wouldn’t be open yet, but he owned the hotel. He owned the whole chain, in fact, along with the corporation that oversaw dozens of similar resorts and developments around the world. His card was all access, all the time.

When the elevator stopped midway down, he expected a family with young children to join him. Or a businessperson hurrying out for an early flight.

It was her. Eve. She wore a pair of shorts and a bright yellow windbreaker and a look of exactly as much surprise as gripped him. His sister would call this kismet. He didn’t believe in such things. For him, it was merely coincidence. A convenient opportunity.

The hunter inside him leapt on it.

CHAPTER TWO

WHEN HER LAST friend had paired up with a woman wearing bright blue lipstick and an armful of bangles, Eve had caught a rideshare back to the hotel—which was the real crime she was committing here in Budapest. If her family knew she was staying in a WBE hotel, they would drag her out by the hair.

Eve hadn’t realized where they were booked until they arrived. Hailey’s uncle had paid for everything as a graduation gift to his niece. As their guest, Eve hadn’t wanted to make a fuss so here she was, waking alone in a mini-suite that was as luxurious as any of the Visconti hotels.

She hadn’t really slept. She blamed the alcohol and Hailey not coming back, but she knew what the real issue was. Dom had left her in a state of arousal that kept her fantasizing about a kiss she hadn’t received. She had spent the restless hours imagining he had brought her back to this hotel and did more than kiss her.

At six thirty, when the sun came up and other early-morning joggers had started to emerge on the streets below, she dressed for a run.

She was skimming through her playlists as she waited for the elevator when the doors opened to reveal him. Dom.

A jolt of electricity gripped her, freezing her in place.

“Are you just getting home?” she asked, even though he wore gym shorts, sneakers and a plain blue T-shirt.

He shot out a hand to hold the door. “I can’t sleep.” His growled voice seemed to blame her for that, which sent a flutter of smug pleasure into her chest.

A wispy scent of risk stung her nostrils, though, even as anticipation teased her stomach. She had cursed herself for not speaking to him before she left, not that she knew how to invite a man to her room. The carefree come-hither woman she’d been a few hours ago was long gone, leaving a tongue-tied virgin who was blushing over the thoughts she’d been thinking all night.

“Do you have your own room?” he asked in that same gritty, intent tone.

Or he could just invite himself, she thought with mild hysteria. The churn of nervous excitement increased in her abdomen. Be good? Or...?

“My roommate isn’t back yet.” She tried to project a sophistication she didn’t possess. “Would you like to see it?”

“I would.” He stepped out, seeming bigger in daylight than he had at the club. More intimidating.

He’d showered off the sweat of the club, but hadn’t shaved. The edges of his beard were scruffy, his eyes alert, but sunken into the dark circles of a sleepless night.

He nodded in a command for her to lead the way.

Her blood turned to champagne, bubbling and fizzing as she walked, making her feel lightheaded. She wished that she was wearing her club clothes, not this bust-flattening sports bra and baggy shorts with a windbreaker colored for visibility, not flattery.

Nervously, she let him into the sitting room. The pair of queen beds was visible through the open double doors to the bedroom. Hailey’s bed was untouched, the other was tousled, revealing her fitful sleep.

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