Page 41 of Captivating

Like he’s swallowed glass?

I lick my lips. “If it still works for you, it’s what my label’s expecting. Iris should be here tonight. Zoe and Scottie too.”

“Is it what you want though?” His calloused thumb runs along my jaw, and I suddenly wonder if my thong was a serious misjudgment of choice on my part as I cross my legs and lean into him.

“Yes, St. James. It’s what I want. It’s what I need to get what I want, so it looks like you’re stuck with me.” What in the world was I thinking agreeing to this?

He leans his forehead against mine and inhales.

My lord, he smells good.

“What are you doing?” I breathe out as he breathes in, barely above a whisper.

“I’m going to have to touch you tonight, Lilah.” One hand slides down my back and grips my hips while the other digs into my hair. “Your man wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you.”

“Really?” Holy shit, that sounded needy, even to my own ears.

He pulls me closer and lowers his face until his hot breath warms me, and his lips, lips women would pay a doctor to get but come completely naturally to Killian, nearly graze mine. “Yeah, princess.”

“I hate that nickname,” I whisper.

“No.” His lips graze mine. “You don’t.”

Oh my God. Killian drops his lips to my neck, and my entire world stands still.

The noise stops, and everyone else ceases to exist as his teeth scrape my skin, and I grip the front of his shirt for dear life.

Then all at once, I climb into his lap, and the door opens, and our bubble is broken.

Well, I guess that’s one way to introduce this fake relationship to the world.

“How many of those things have you had?” Dillan eyes my pink cocktail as I sip.

“Oh... you mean my French Kiss?” I laugh.

“What’s a French Kiss?” She lifts it from my hand and sips for herself. “Ohh. That’s yummy.”

“Gin, St. Germain, Aperol, a squeeze of fresh lemon juice, and top it with sparkling rosé. It’s delicious, right? Maddox taught me how to make it earlier.” I take it back and finish it off. “And this is only my second. I don’t want to get drunk and be forced to look at the pictures splashed everywhere.”

The song changes, and a sultry Kings Of Leon song thrums through the speakers.

One of my backup dancers, Jeremy, moves between me and Dillan. He’s more than one of my dancers. He’s my friend, and I don’t use that term loosely. “Come on, girl.”

He takes my drink out of my hand and sits it on the bar, then takes my hand and pulls me with him. I go willingly.

Jeremy and I have been dancing on stage together for years. This man has had his hands all over my body... in a strictly working kind of way. I don’t have the equipment he wants, which is a shame for me because he moves like he knows exactly what you need. His husband, however, appreciates it very, very much. I’ve heard the stories. But that’s life on the road.

I’m pulled against him as the beat pulses, and his knee slides between my legs. “You want to tell me why that Adonis leaning against the bar looks like he wants to eviscerate me, Lilah? Did you go and get yourself a man? One who looks like a Hemsworth?”

“Sort of...” I’m not sure how to answer that, so I go vague. It feels safe.

I drape my arm over his shoulder, and Jeremy moves his hand down my back.

“Oh shit. Is he going to kick my ass, Lilah? Cause honey, this body wasn’t made for fighting.” Jeremy loves to stir shit up, though, so instead of moving his hand, he tightens his hold.

Why does this give me an idea?

I lean into Jeremy. “Does he look jealous?”

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