Page 32 of One Night Only
Reluctantly, I peer up at him, resenting myself the moment I meet that weighty stare.
“We match.” He grins.
He’s not wrong. We do match. It’s almost embarrassing. Dallas in his Christmas giftwrap suit, and me in my long, red satin dress with its mock halter neck and dangerous thigh high slit; in my defense, it was the best I could find within my price range at such late notice in Bloomingdale’s.
His fingers are still dancing against my skin, eliciting goosebumps to rise to the surface, and my God… did I mention he smells good?
Dallas chuckles, and I realize he just said something. But I’m totally not listening.
I look up, ensnared in his gaze once again, and I swear, when his hand skirts over my bare shoulder and I feel his thumb press against the thrumming pulse point at the base of my neck, I almost melt into a puddle on the floor.
“Dallas,” I say quietly, my tone an embarrassing combination of warning and want.
“You’re coming home with me tonight,” he says in response, his words finite, accompanied by anI dare you to even try and argue with melook in his eyes.
Honestly, I couldn’t argue with him even if I wanted to. And yes, I know what going home with him means. I know the risk and the consequences of those risks, but my body wants what it wants, and my mind seems to have no further say in the matter.
Before I can say anything, we’re interrupted by the sound of heels clacking from behind me, and as if I’ve burned him, Dallas takes a big step back, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers, the smoldering look on his face immediately replaced by that casual, dimpled grin he wears so well.
“There you are!”
I turn, my heart flying up into the back of my throat at the sight of Jenn rounding the corner, smiling widely upon her approach.
“What are you doing back here?” she asks, grabbing my hand.
“Oh, I—” I nervously tuck my hair behind my ear, feeling Dallas’s unwavering presence looming behind me like the Christmas-clad elephant in the room. “Gayle needed help.”
“Gayle has more than enoughhelp,” Jenn says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’re not here to work. Oh, you’re just too sweet.”
I force a smile.Oh, Jenn, if only you knew…
“There’s someone I want you to meet.” She arches one eyebrow as best she can against the effects of the Botox in her forehead, and I don’t miss the conspiratorial tone in her voice that immediately causes my hackles to prick. I know that tone, and I don’t like it. Apparently, neither does Dallas if his heavy exhale is any indication.
“Dallas, honey, what are you doing back here?” Jenn asks, looking over my shoulder as if she’s only now noticed the giant man wearing the suit made of Christmas ribbon. “You should be out there mingling, sweetie.”
“I was taking a piss,” he says casually.
Jenn blanches.
I close my eyes.
“Really nice, Dallas,” Jenn says drolly, shaking her head at me. “I swear, these boys of Andy’s…”
I manage another smile, internally wincing at the way she saysboys… like they’re children. Dallas is twenty-six, not fourteen.Sure, Emily, keep telling yourself that.I ignore my snide subconscious.
“Come on. I want you to meet him,” Jenn says with an eager squeal, tugging on my hand.
My heart sinks as I follow her, and when I glance over my shoulder and see Dallas standing in the one spot, hands in his pockets, jaw ticking despite the unreadable look on his face, something settles heavily in my gut. And I suddenly wish I could just blow off this whole night and go home with him right now because really, he’s what I want. What’s the use in denying it any longer?
The event space is crowded full of people, lights dim, music playing throughout. Jenn continues holding my hand, towing me through the throng. She’s saying something, but honestly, I’m not really listening, my mind wholeheartedly consumed by the man I left all alone back in the corridor.
When we come to a stop by our designated table, Jenn steps aside, and I see the big grin on her face as she says, “Simon, this is Emily.”
I look up to see a handsome man standing in front of me, dark eyes, dark hair, dressed in an impeccable black tuxedo, a lowball of amber liquor in his hand.
All I can do is smile. I’m not an idiot. I know exactly what’s happening here, but that doesn’t make me feel any less awkward about the matter.
“Emily, this is Simon.” Jenn beams, wrapping her arm around the man. “My brother.”
