Curiosity struck as to who the woman was, but smiling, I drawled, "You beat me to it."
It took a second for him to register my meaning.
"You were the one who raised the bid?" He shook his head. "That should be illegal."
Smile widening, I shrugged. "You can afford it. Thank you for the donation."
"You’re welcome."
I dipped my chin. "I should have news regarding your great-uncle soon."
"Pleased to hear it."
"Enjoy the rest of your evening, Luciu and… guest."
When he didn’t introduce her, I faded into the crowd now my duties were done. He was a reminder of my responsibilities, one that I didn’t need.
You couldn’t get blood out of a stone, but Luciu had been fighting for years to free his great-uncle from prison.
After being jailed for a crime Luciu believed the older man hadn’t committed, Currau’s days in prison were numbered.
I’d yet to hear from David Foundry, the Attorney General, and I was tempted to call him to see if he’d made a decision.
Still, that was tomorrow’s problem.
Instead of socializing with the auction winners as I usually did, thanking them for their generosity, I decided to be selfish, decided that thoughts about work could wait, and that the event could be left in Lily’s hands, with any problems arising being hers to handle, not mine.
I also decided that I wanted to see Rex.
There was only one problem—when I headed to his table, I couldn’t actually see him.
He’d moved.
Dammit.
My gaze darted here and there as I drifted through the crowd, greeting people who complimented me on yet another successful fundraiser. I had a hundred air kisses bestowed upon my cheeks and had my hand shaken a few dozen times before I found him at long last.
He was leaning against the bar.
It was so bizarre to see him standing there in a tux, looking dapper and handsome, that I froze, taking a moment to absorb the sight of him.
He was majestic.
His hair was neat and slicked back at the sides, his jaw was smooth and like silk—I knew there’d be no prickle against my cheeks when he kissed me. He wore the tux like he was born to it, but I’d often reasoned that Rex was.
His father had aptly named him—King.
He should have been a politician. Should have ruled over a state or even the country. Should have been the one to bring order back to this mess of a nation that had been corrupted from the inside out by Sparrows and to right the wrongs that had been sown here.
Instead, he reigned over a band of outlaws.
It wasn’t, and never had been, what I wanted for him.
But I knew he was happy with his place, and it was his life. His happiness wasn’t my happiness, even if we were intrinsically bound.
He stood with his elbow leaning against the gleaming countertop, a tumbler of Jack Daniel’s nonchalantly clasped in his hand, the amber liquid tilted from the position. One leg supported him, the other he had kicked out in front of him, propped up on his leather Oxford-clad toes.
As much as I studied him, he studied me.
I could feel the weight of his look like his fingers were tracing up and down my arms, sliding over my shoulders and down my back.
The connection between us throbbed, twanging into place when he straightened up, leaving his glass on the bar the second that I started to move toward him.
We collided.
Like atoms and stars.
Merging like the cells in my womb formed the life we’d created.
It was beautiful. It was powerful. It was everything.
His hands came around me, sliding about my waist, hauling me into him. His hands cupped me and shaped me as his mouth found mine.
Finally.
Lips parting, I absorbed his kiss, accepting the claiming. Needing it.
The pressure of his fingers increased as he maneuvered me into him, tongue and teeth tasting and nipping as one hand slid up higher into the sleek locks of my hair. He tilted me this way and that, making sure that he could get as close to me as possible.
His dick was hot and thick against my belly, and I swore to God that he could have pinned me against the bar right then and there.
Sex and I… we were complicated.
I knew it could be painful. I knew it could be terrifying.
Yet, where Rex was concerned, nothing was.
So the dichotomy of those two warring beliefs were always a battle that ended up a stalemate.
I knew it could hurt but I wanted him anyway.
Tonight, however, there was no denying that I’d missed him. After thinking that I’d lost him, after him throwing down an ultimatum, after weeks of phone calls and emails and texts, of relearning each other, I was all in.
As hungry as he was, as needy, as desperate for his touch and his kisses and his love.
God, I wanted that more than anything.
His lips broke away from mine, leaving us both panting.
Tongue tracing the line of my jaw, with no prickle from his stubble against my cheek, he reached my ear and whispered, “I got us a suite.”
The rumble of his voice settled inside me.
I peered up at him with dazed eyes and whispered back, “I missed you.”
His gaze darkened in turn. “I missed you.”
Nails digging into his arms, my mouth wobbled. “Don’t leave me again.”
“If you don’t leave me, I won’t leave you. How’s that for a compromise?”
His hand, calloused and rough from the work he did on his bike, made the hairs at my nape stand to attention as the sensation rushed through me.
Angling my chin into his hold, I thought about Lily’s brand and rasped, “I want your brand.”
His pupils bloated like he was glutting on delight, and he snarled, “Don’t say shit like that if you don’t mean it, Rachel.”
I swallowed, hearing his anger and finding myself shocked by it. “I do mean it.”
“You can’t. We’re not even together that way yet—”
“We are. It’s just an atypical romance.”
“Well, I don’t want atypical anymore. I want to go to bed with you. I want to eat breakfast and lunch and fucking dinner with you. I want to watch movies with you and to read in bed with you.
“I want to fuck you on the kitchen table and eat you out in the living room. I want everything with you, Rachel, so don’t tell me you want my brand unless you’re ready for what that means.”
Before I could tell him that I knew, that I wanted all that, he pressed his mouth to mine.
This time, the kiss was hungrier. Desperate. Seeking.
He nipped and bit at my lips, thrusting his tongue against mine like he was thinking about fucking me; his hands even grew harder in their possessive hold.
But I wasn’t afraid.
I knew what it meant.
He wanted my brand on him.
More than I did, and that was saying something.
I sighed, sinking into him, my bones turning lax as I leaned on him for support.
As his mouth tore into mine, I knew he was angry with me. Angry for making him hope, and I understood.
A couple weeks away and I was asking for his brand?
A few meetings with Giulia’s Posse and suddenly all was right with the world?
The short answer was no.
Of course all the broken parts of me weren’t fixed.
Tiffany hadn’t wrought a miracle and Rex’s time away hadn’t turned me off our usual status quo and made me want a ‘regular’ relationship.