Page 44 of Filthy Rich Temptation
That look. Dark. Raw. Possessive. Like he wants to taste me. Like he’s imagining it now… remembering, even.
And it’s not the burn of shame, I feel. Anything but.
‘Theo?’
His head rocks back, eyes flaring like he’s been caught… which he has. But bloody hell, I was right there with him. Against all better judgement, I was there.
He suddenly comes alive, striding for the bar in the corner of the room. ‘Have you spoken to Taylor?’
The black marble bar top gleams under the accent lights that flick on as he grabs a whisky bottle off the shelf, a tumbler too – his movements stiff, urgent.
‘I messaged her…’ I come up behind him, cautious, but too curious to stay away. ‘She’s in Paris. She offered to fly back tomorrow.’
‘I can do tomorrow.’
‘I told her there’s no rush.’
He lances me with a look. ‘You need to sort this out, Sadie.’
‘I know. But she’s about to launch a new club out there, and you know what she’s like – into every detail. I don’t want to mess with her life any more than I already have.’
He sets the glass down, facing me fully, eyes blazing.
‘You’remore important than her work. No matter what happened between you two, you will always come first. You got it?’
I nod, throat dry. ‘I do. But she’s done so much for me already… You both have.’
A war rages in his eyes – hot, desperate… hungry. It slams into my chest, then dives lower, heat twisting through my belly. My skin prickles. My nipples tighten. A slow, traitorous throb pulses between my thighs. If he touched me now, I’d melt. If he kissed me, I’d beg.
So much for keeping it contained.
I try to take a steadying breath, but it’s all him… his scent, his expensive cologne, the faint hit of whisky?—
My spine stiffens, my nerves reacting to the alcohol. It’s instinctual – some buried warning system. But he isn’t Danny. And this isn’t fear taking over.
I lick my lips and his eyes trace my tongue.
Pop.
The bottle cork jerks free in his clenched grip.
‘Nightcap?’ he blurts, voice tight.
‘No.’ I cover his glass, fingers brushing boldly against his as I step closer. ‘Are you sureyouneed it?’
He looks me over, every line in his face pulled taut, pupils blown wide.
‘More than you can know,’ he rasps. ‘Now, if you don’t mind.’
He turns away, sliding the glass from under my hand, and pours – an unsteady slosh that nearly overflows.
‘Go to bed, Sadie.’
My mouth quirks. ‘I’m not a child. You don’t get to tell me what to do.’
His eyes flutter closed as he takes a breath through his nose.
‘You’re right,’ he grinds out. ‘I’ll go.’
