The band was playing a slow song—of course it was—and he pulled her into his arms, started to move her across the crowded floor. He held her closer than was necessary or expected for a first dance between strangers. One hand on her lower back, his fingers curving over the soft swell of her hip. His other hand continuing to hold, continuing to stroke, her own. His hard, strong chest brushing against her own with each step they took. His thighs doing the same.
Deep inside, Desi felt herself melting. Felt herself falling a little more under his spell. She knew it was stupid, ridiculous, insane, but for the first time in her life, she didn’t care. She didn’t care if it was a bad idea to let him touch her. Didn’t care if she’d regret it later. Didn’t care, even, if she ended up getting in trouble at work because she’d spent time with Nic that she should have spent trying to pry quotes out of the local celebrities. Which, if she stopped to think about it, didn’t make sense at all. She was a woman who lived to work, who was dying to make a name for herself as a journalist. The fact that she would put that at risk for a man she’d just met was absurd.
She wasn’t that girl, had never been—and never wanted to be—that girl. And yet, here she was, moving closer instead of back. Arching forward so that her breasts and her thighs brushed more firmly against him, instead of walking away. Surrendering instead of putting up a fight.
The gleam in Nic’s eyes as he looked down at her was as obvious as his rock-hard pelvis pressing against her own. Instead of offending her, it aroused her. Instead of making her scurry for cover, it made her clamor for more.
One night never hurt anyone, after all. And neither did one kiss. Or at least that was her story for this evening and she was sticking to it.
Which was why, after taking a deep breath, she tightened her hand where it rested against the back of his neck and pulled him forward. Pulled him down, down, down, until their bodies were meshed together and his lip
s met hers.
Two
She was delicious. It was the only thing Nic Durand could think as his lips met those of the beautiful blonde in his arms. Desi, she’d said her name was, he remembered as he fought to keep from getting completely lost in the feel of her soft hands on his neck and her lush body pressed so tightly against his own.
It was a lot harder not to get lost than it should have been. A lot harder than it had ever been. He’d met—and charmed—a lot of women in his life, but never had he been so affected by one. Never had he come so close to forgetting who and where he was when he was with one—even one as gorgeous, and amusing, as Desi. But here he was, attending his first charity gala since he and his brother had moved the headquarters of their diamond company to San Diego earlier that year, and all he could think about was getting his hands and mouth all over a woman he’d just met.
As second in command of Bijoux, he was in charge of marketing, advertising and public relations. It was his job to come to these ridiculous galas, his job to schmooze and donate pieces to the silent auction in an effort to continue building the philanthropic reputation of the business he and his brother, Marc, had poured their hearts and souls into ever since they’d taken over more than a decade before. The fact that he’d rather just give all that money straight to charity meant nothing. After all, experience had proved that buying seats at boring, trumped-up galas like this one always earned his company good PR. And good PR was the name of the game, especially when you were one of the new kids. And not just any new kid, but one determined to shake up the old system and make things happen. It was the best way to gain access. He’d come here tonight with an agenda—people to meet, business to do—but all it had taken was one look at Desi, one conversation with her, one feel of her pressed against him while dancing, to make all of that fly out the window.
And he didn’t give a damn.
It was odd. Crazy, even. But he wasn’t going to fight it, he decided as he slid his hand down her spine to rest against her lower back. Not when a simple kiss with her was hotter and more exciting than anything he’d done with any other woman.
With that thought in mind, he put a little pressure on her back, pressed her forward…and more tightly against him. She moaned a little at the contact, her mouth opening with the sound, and he took instant advantage by licking his way across the little dip in her upper lip, then across the soft fullness of her lower one. She gasped a little, her hands sliding up to clutch at his tuxedo shirt. It was all the invitation he needed.
Delving inside her then, he swept his tongue along her own. Once, twice, then again and again. Teasing, touching, tasting her. Learning her flavors…and her secrets.
Despite her sharp cool looks—all platinum-blond hair and ice-blue eyes, striking cheekbones and long, slender body—Desi was heat and spice. Cinnamon and cloves, overlaid by just a hint of the crisp, sweet champagne they had shared. The warmth of her seduced him, drew him in—drew him under—until all he could think of, all he could want, was her.
Sliding his other hand into her hair, he tangled his fingers in the silky strands and tugged gently. Her head tilted back in response, giving him better access to her mouth. And he took it without a thought to anything but how much he wanted her.
Sucking her lower lip between his teeth, he bit down gently, then soothed the small hurt with his tongue before once again licking inside her mouth. This time, he slid his tongue along her upper lip, toyed gently with the sensitive skin then delved deep into the recesses of her mouth.
Desi moaned, burrowing even closer as he licked his way across the roof of her mouth before tangling his tongue with hers. She tasted so good, felt so good, that he wanted nothing more than to stay right there forever.
But at that moment someone jostled him. The jolt broke the spell and he came back to himself slowly, became aware of their surroundings and the fact that he was about two seconds from undressing her in the middle of one of the most important social events of the Southern California season. He should be embarrassed, or at least shocked that he’d let things get so far out of hand. But he didn’t care about that, didn’t care about any of the people milling around them or what they must be thinking.
All he cared about was getting Desi out of there…and getting inside her as quickly as he possibly could.
Pulling away from her reluctantly, he forced himself to ignore her moan of protest—and the way it shot straight to his groin. It wasn’t easy. Just as it wasn’t easy to look away from her flushed cheeks, her swollen lip and slumberous eyes. But if he didn’t, he would say to hell with social niceties and take her right here in the middle of the dance floor where everyone could see them. Where everyone could watch as he put his claim on her.
Just the thought—which was an admittedly odd one to have when he didn’t know this woman at all—had him placing a hand on her lower back and escorting her through the bright crowds to the darkness of the balcony beyond the ballroom. As he did, he tried to ignore the looks they were getting. It wasn’t easy, especially when he saw the way so many of the men were looking at them. Looking at her. Only the awareness that he was one small step away from growling and beating his chest like some kind of caveman kept him moving.
Desi went with him willingly, pliantly even, which soothed some of the strangely possessive feelings rocketing through him. But he’d barely gotten her outside—the door was still closing behind them—before she was on him. Her arms wrapping around his neck, her body wrapping itself around his own, her mouth desperately seeking his.
The same urgency was a fire inside him. A pounding drum in his bloodstream, a stroke of lightning that he couldn’t shake. That he didn’t want to shake.
All he wanted was her.
It was a shocking revelation, and a humbling one. He loved women, loved everything about them and always had. But this driving desire for Desi, this craving to have her any and every way he could, was something new. Something as unexpected as it was exciting.
Keeping his mouth on hers and his lips open so she could delve inside him the same way he had explored her, Nic turned them until her back was against the outside wall of the ballroom. She moaned softly as her bare skin came in contact with the building and he shifted back, so that he could slide an arm between her and the rough, cold stone.
“Please,” she whimpered, pressing her pelvis against his as her hands clutched his shirt, pulling and tugging at it in a frantic need that mirrored his own.
To help her—and to get her hands on his bare skin faster—he pulled away slightly and ripped his shirt straight down in a practiced move that had the studs giving way to his impatience. Desi sighed then, her hands sliding beneath the parted fabric to caress his ribs, his back, his abdomen.