Page 29 of Covert

She twirled, revelling in the soft chiffon swishing around her ankles. “You like?”

He nodded, his expression of wonder all the reassurance she needed. “You look incredible.”

Her skin tingled under the intensity of his stare and she resisted the impulse to rub her bare arms.

“Good. I know this dinner is important to you and I wanted to make an impression.”

He whistled, long and low. “Well, you’ve certainly done that.”

She picked up her sequinned evening bag and pretended to swat him with it. “I didn’t want to impress you, just your colleagues.”

“Who?”

He continued to stare at her and she wondered if he’d lost his mind.

“Yourcolleagues. You know, those people you do business with, the same ones we’re going to have dinner with.”

He shook his head. “Change of plans. Room service. Here. Now.”

She laughed and tucked her hand through the crook of his arm. “Thanks for the compliment. Now, let’s go.”

When Sam had purchased the dress, she knew it looked good on her: the strapless bodice highlighted her delicate shoulders, the fitted line accentuated her slimness—she’d lost weight over the last year, stressing over her parents’ expectations of her as they pushed her toward creepy Max.

Though she craved Dylan’s approval, she’d been totally unprepared for the blatant desire blazing in his eyes when he first saw her in the dress, and for one, dizzying moment, she thought he might take her into his arms, back her into the room, and kick the door shut.

“How do you expect me to concentrate on business tonight with you looking like that?”

“Like what?” She batted her eyelashes in exaggerated coquettishness.

He waited until the elevator doors slid shut before answering. “Like every man’s fantasy come to life.”

Her breath hitched as he placed both hands on her shoulders and bent toward her, his lips brushing hers.

She’d been unprepared for the kiss, though didn’t stop to analyse it as she responded with matching eagerness, wrapping her arms around him and moulding against the lean hardness of his body.

He kissed her like a man starved, a deep, endless kiss that reached down to her soul, making her crave him more than she cared to admit.

This overwhelming, helpless feeling that she belonged to him—only him—terrified her beyond belief.

He groaned as she pulled away and buried her face into the crook of his neck.

Rather than calming her, his aftershave infused her senses as she took a steadying breath that threatened to tear apart the last shred of her self-control.

“There’s no use hiding from this, from us,” he whispered in her ear, his lips raining a blazing trail of light kisses from her earlobe to the hollow above her collarbone.

“Dylan—“

He silenced her with a quick peck on the lips. “Let’s table this discussion for later.”

Sam didn’t have time to respond as the elevator doors slid open and in walked the last man she expected—or wanted—to see.

19

“Hello, Samantha. What are you doing here?”

If Dylan’s scintillating kiss hadn’t already sent Sam into a tailspin, the sight of Max Sherpov staring down his aristocratic nose at her would have.

What the hell was he doing here?

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