Page 8 of Wilt

I turn. “Yes?”

She looks down at something in her hand, a piece of paper. “Would you mind coming with me?”

“Already? I thought we had a little more time…”

The woman gestures to the door before repeating herself. “Can you follow me?” She hesitates. “It’s important.”

Her voice drops when she says that, and I nod, my heart thumping hard. I’m not sure why I’ve been summoned, but I’m not about to rock boats.

I stand and follow her down the hall, past closed doors and more empty corridors. She asks me to wait a moment as she steps away to peek at her cell phone’s screen.

That nagging feeling of familiarity tingles up my spine again—I’ve seen her before—but I just can’t place where. I’ve meet dozens of people during this pageant alone. I can’t remember every face, but I conclude she must work here, somewhere.

Just to be sure, I run over everything I’ve done to get to here, what I did on stage tonight, what I’ve worn. I know all the rules, and none have been broken, so I don’t think I’m in trouble.

Suddenly, my pulse quickens and the adrenaline returns. What if this means I’ve made the top three and they like to tell the winners in advance so they’re ready for it?

I like that idea better. It brings a smile to my face; as she returns, she knocks on a nearby door and opens it for me. The moment I step in, the door clicks closed behind me.

I don’t move. What a strange place to find out you’ve won. The room iscreepy, with a capital C. There’s a dim light bulb spilling weak illumination, plus a navy sofa, wooden chairs, and a table.

And a man.

He’s not facing me, but I can tell he’s tall, with dark hair and dressed immaculately. His suit, charcoal with the finest pinstripes, is exquisitely cut. It must be expensive, that’s obvious even from the back. He’s lean, broad shouldered, clean cut…

I swallow.

He turns slowly to face me, and his lips curl up in a devilish smile, like I’m just the woman he’s been dying to see. He’s the picture of dark relaxation, dangerous and full of anger. I don’t know how I know that, but I know it’s true, and my heart skips a beat.

Dark hair, dark eyes, the kind of cheekbones people kill for, and a sensuous mouth—the man watches me like a lion stalks its prey. My blood picks up in a slow sizzle; it’s familiar, the burn, and I’m struck with an odd sense of déjà vu that makes a shiver pour down my spine.

Just like when I was in the Grand Theater’s foyer.

Was he there? Watching me?

“Who are you?” My voice betrays me with a wobble, but he doesn’t answer. He just drinks in his fill of me, that cocky little smile twisting his lips.

It’s not a pretty one—it’s one of darkness, savagery, sex. It’s the smile of a man who’d eat you alive and make you beg for more while he did it. I don’t know why, but the heat in his gaze paired with the smirk turns my legs liquid, and deep down, between my thighs, things tingle, so much so that I wonder if there’s something wrong with me. This man’s a stranger, a much older one. By at least ten years, if I were to guess.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, like smoke and flame and just as unpredictable. “How much do you want to win?”

I suck in a breath. The answer to his question is obvious, but for some reason, I can’t form a sound, let alone the words he asked for. Instead, I stand there, gaping like a fish out of water.

“You said on stage that you wanted to win,” he goes on, taking a short step closer. “I want to know how much.”

“I-I’ll do anything,” I manage to eke out. I’m trembling under the heavy weight of his gaze; I need to find a way to settle my rapidly beating heart.

He raises a brow. “Anything?”

“Yes,” I say. “Anything.”

His smile slides a bit higher and a lot more wicked, and flame licks across my flesh.

“Prove it.” He crosses the room in two, large steps and seizes me by the back of the neck with one of his large hands. His touch is brutal, bruising, electric, and as I try to jump back, he overpowers me, easily dragging me into him as his mouth crashes against mine.

I stop thinking all together.

Like his cruel grip, his tongue spears past my lips without mercy, and the kiss melts into pure heat as he ravishes my mouth. He tastes like dark dreams, sex and honey, and I arch into him, my head tipping back to give him deeper access. I’m kissing him back, with hunger I didn’t know I had.

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