Page 21 of Ex Marks the Spot

Court: Now look up.

Warmth spreads through my chest when I spot him leaning against a column on the mezzanine, where we’d mingled during the cocktail hour. He truly is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. And although I’m not a fan of possessiveness in relationships, right now a part of me—a large part, if I’m being honest—revels in the knowledge that Court. Is. Mine.

He holds my gaze for several moments, then taps out another message.

I’m going to duck you so hard.

A giggle bubbles out of me, gathering a few curious looks from people standing nearby. Confused, he checks his phone and slaps a palm over his face.

I’m grinning as I reply with a GIF of a rubber duck.

Now he’s shaking his head, but at least he’s smiling when he types,

All ducks aside, I still want to duck you.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the New Year’s countdown begins in just a few minutes. Please use this time to place your final bids for our silent auction, which ends when the clock strikes midnight,” the emcee says over the speakers.

Most of the attendees head toward the displays, but I return my phone to my clutch and aim for the stairs instead.

“Hiding among the shadows?” I tease when I reach him.

“Just admiring the view.”

“Unless someone goes crazy down there, I’ll be the highest grossing artist tonight.” I deposit my clutch on an empty high-top and snake my arms around his waist. “Thanks for that.”

“I’m glad to help. I feel like I should thank you for wearing this dress,” he adds with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“It was my pleasure.”

His fingertips graze the exposed skin on my back as he leans in, bringing his lips to my ear. “Miss Billings, your pleasure hasn’t even started yet.”

My entire body shivers, and I exhale a soft moan when his parted lips glide from my jaw to the crook of my neck.

“That sounds promising,” I finally manage to say.

“I think you’ll find I’m full of promises.” With that, he grips my ass and walks me deeper into the shadows, past several cocktail tables and a server’s station, until my back is pressed against a wall in the far corner of the mezzanine.

His hands slide around my hips and up my sides, coming to a rest just below my breasts. Not one to be left out, I unbutton Court’s tuxedo jacket and untuck his dress shirt to find...more fabric. Seriously? How many layers is this man wearing?

A low, quiet laugh rumbles in his chest as I yank his undershirt out of his pants.

“Impatient?”

“I just need—” My fingers finally meet the hard, warm skin of his back. “There.”

“Do you have any idea how torturous it’s been not to be able to touch you all night? Or kiss this pretty, red mouth of yours?”

I lift my chin and arch into him. “You are cordially invited to do both of those things right now. Please and thank you.” My voice is breathy and full of need, but really, can you blame me?

“Tempting,” he murmurs against my neck, “but I must regrettably decline the last portion of your invitation.” Before I can object, he continues with, “Because the last thing I want is for you to walk out of here with smeared lipstick. Also, red’s not my color.”

Okay, he has a point. “I should’ve skipped the lipstick.”

“I disagree. I have plans for that lipstick when we get home.”

“I thought you said red isn’t your color.”

“On my face? No. On my dick while you’re wearing these heels? Yes.”

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