Page 49 of Her Billionaire Bargain (Kensington Square)

“Not surprising. You’ve been on the move for hours.”

She pouted. “Not hours.”

I checked my watch. “Yep, pretty much hours. I wore the wrong clothes for this.” I was sweating too. Good thing I owned this tux. It wasn’t built for such physical activities, more for standing around and looking rich and important.

I snagged the attention of a server as she wandered past and ordered two more waters, some zucchini bites and fries, and another wine spritzer for the lady.

The lady who was still chair dancing, as if she was the one who couldn’t stay still tonight. As I was finding myself addicted to her laughter, I was glad to see it. She seemed as if she didn’t have enough fun in her life.

How could she, when she had to be both mom and dad to one active, inquisitive little girl?

Ian shifted into what sounded like a rousing sea shanty and members of the crowd let out war whoops as the dance floor filled once more. The house lights came up in deference to the faster beat, and colorful lights bounced around the stage, making Ian laugh uproariously. “Are you all with me? The night is still young, mates!”

“It is!” Shelby lurched to her feet and propped her hands on her hips. “You could take off your jacket, you know. Probably not your shirt. Not here. But elsewhere…”

I cleared my throat. Had she waggled her eyebrows at me? I was fairly certain she had, and I was now regretting that second spritzer I’d ordered for her. She’d also had a hard cider upon first arriving, and she hadn’t eaten.

Then again, she didn’t get to do this kind of thing very often. I wanted her to feel free to have fun. She was safe with me, so where was the harm?

I just hoped she didn’t get all Shelby about it later and indicate that because she’d had a good time with me, we clearly couldn’t have a working relationship or ever see each other again, because dear God, having fun was contagious.

Or something equally Shelby-ish.

“C’mon, slowpoke. Time’s a-wasting.” She made an impatient hand gesture, cocking her hip and showcasing all those sumptuous curves I’d noticed more than one man checking out over the course of the evening.

I stood and removed my jacket, half tempted to wrap it around her to keep the circling men from ogling her body. I barely was allowing myself to enjoy the ogle, so they damn well weren’t allowed to.

She snagged my hand and dragged me onto the dance floor, turning to fit herself against me in a way that made it extremely difficult not to notice her rack. The dress highlighted it perfectly and though she leaned more toward slight than curvy, she definitely was packed in all the right places.

And so was I, so unless I wanted to send a distinct message, keeping her body away from certain areas of my anatomy was an imperative.

Luckily, she was way into the music, laughing and throwing her hands above her head. Her joy spread to the couples around us, and soon enough, we’d started doing some quadrangle type thing that I couldn’t quantify. Passing partners back and forth and moving with the uproarious beat in a way that amped up the already stifling heat in the room, despite the many large fans stationed around the dance floor. The large windows were open too, but that many bodies moving that fast made for a cauldron of heat.

Shelby whirled back to me, plastering herself to my chest as she smiled up at me. Cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes aglow. I could see her daughter in her excited expression and when she tilted her face up to mine, I couldn’t resist.

I took her mouth with mine, her soft moan pouring into me like a lit match to the kerosene in my bloodstream. My hips sought the pliant vee of her thighs and her eyes widened at my erection, but she didn’t pull away. If anything, she cleaved even closer, her damp lips parting under mine as she moaned again.

I tried to keep it light, easy. Despite the heat of our bodies and the way her heartbeat raced against mine, I knew she wasn’t looking for something too intense. Hell, I wasn’t either. We were working together and she had other priorities.

And she was cupping my cock.

“I know this is wrong,” she said between kisses as I shifted my body to protectively guard hers. I didn’t want anyone to see what was happening between us, beyond the kisses we couldn’t hide. The unsteady breaths. The need that had me shifting my mouth to her neck, where her vanilla and paint—paint?—scent was strongest. She writhed against me, her strong hand moving up and down at a rate guaranteed to speed this night along.

She’s drunk. At least buzzed. You need to stop her.

Yet we didn’t stop. We kept dancing and groping and kissing and panting until I managed to gather enough wits to guide us into a darkened corner as Ian shifted into a song he said was “for the lovers.”

Not ideal for us at the moment.

I reached up and fisted my hands in her hair, scattering pins and clips. “You need food.”

“No. I need to feel like this. Always. I haven’t felt like this in so long. Maybe ever.” She licked her lips, her gaze locked on my mouth. “You’ll take care of me.”

“Yes.” I wasn’t sure what she was saying, but it didn’t matter because I would. In whatever way she needed for however long she needed it.

Neededme.

No one ever needed me, just me. Not what I could do for them.

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