Samantha seems taken in conversation with a handsome stranger who might be a good fifteen years her senior. With his sprinkling of salt-and-pepper hair, and amazing jawline, the age gap could be forgiven. Sam places a hand on his arm, keeping it there long enough to make her intentions loud and clear. Whatever floats her boat.
“Well… this is a pleasant surprise,” the familiar deep sound says from behind while lips graze my ear. I don’t need to turn to know who it is.
“Mr. Alexander,” I greet, ignoring the tremor of delight coursing through me. “This is a surprise.”
“Call me Kane,” he rumbles, his stubble tickling my cheek.
“Kane,” I repeat, breathily. “Is it you buying our drinks tonight?” The same sexy waiter had returned three more times with martinis, and on each occasion saying they were courtesy of the man at the bar, who’s managed to remain incognito.
“You’re new here. I want you to enjoy the night.”
I move to face him, but he’s already rounding on me, taking my hand in his. “And how exactly do you know it’s my first time?”
Kane leads me to the dance floor where other couples are intimately dancing. I feel a sudden rush of nerves, but when he pulls me against his hard chest, he successfully distracts me from my thoughts. His cheek once again brushes mine and a small involuntary moan escapes my lips.
“All virgins have that look of wonderment about them.”
Dear God… have mercy.
I’m caught in a sensory overload. The man smells divine, his cologne making me welcomely heady. One hand rests on the small of my back, the other cupping my cheek, holding me in place while he murmurs against my ear.
It all feels so carnal.
And so wrong.
“You must come here often if it’s that noticeable to you.”
He doesn’t pull away or break his hold. Instead, I find myself leaning closer to him.
“I protect anything that’s mine.” There’s a promise in his tone which leaves my knees quaking. “And this is only a preview of what’s to come.”
What does he mean by that?
This has me leaning far enough away so I can see his dark eyes. “This is yours? This is the place you want redecorated.”
Kane shakes his head, pulling me closer against his body, his hips moving against mine. It feels so wickedly illicit.
“This is one of my many businesses, Blythe.”
Oh, how I love it when he says my name like that.
“Many?” I ask, hoping he’ll elaborate. “Do they all cater to the rich and famous?”
I feel him smile against my cheek, and I wish I could see it.
“I’m the creator of my own world. I get to determine what I want in it and who. And Blythe, you’re in it, no matter what you say to the contrary. Speaking of which…” he says, beginning to steer the conversation in a different direction, but I’m still reeling over his bluntness, “have you changed your mind about working with me?”
This time, I shake my head. “Kane, I have to stick by my decision. I can’t work on this project. It’s far too grand a task for me to do blind. And if you’re unwilling to budge—”
“Do you trust me, Blythe?”
“I don’t know you, Kane.”
“Then let me change that.”
“Me saying no to the job isn’t about whether or not I trust you. It’s because I don’t want to fuck it up when you’re willing to invest so much into it.”
“I understand, it’s your reputation on the line, but my offer still stands. In fact, I’ll increase the commission. I’ll ensure you’re very well looked after. You have my word.”
I shiver hearing his last sentence, and he feels it, gliding both his hands up and down my arms.
I step back, thinking it’s time to go before I lose my self-control. Why does he affect me in so many different ways, and why do I allow it?
He takes my hand and angles me so he can still graze my ear. “What’s one thing I should know about you, Blythe Cooper?”
I pause for a moment because no one’s ever asked me such a question. “I hate liars.” When he doesn’t respond, I seek his response to the same question. “And you? What’s one thing I should know about you, Kane Alexander?”
I feel that same smile, his lips grazing my cheek as he gently kisses me for a long lingering moment. “I always get what I want.”
5
“You look like shit,” Amanda announces, quickly closing my office door behind her.
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“‘Cause… well… it’s true. I guess. Here…” She hands me a compact, and I study my reflection before retrieving my lip gloss, which will only minimally improve matters.
Maybe she’s right. I haven’t had much sleep since the night at Othello and the unexpected encounter with Kane Alexander has left me restless. I’d tossed and turned in bed feeling an unhealthy array of emotions, and a needy pang of desire between my legs that just won’t abate. He consumed any dreams I did manage to have, causing me to wake hot, sweaty and tangled between the damp sheets. Needless to say, I now feel and look like shit.