“No, I…” She took a step back, bumping against the glass-topped table, her mind whirling as she tried to recalibrate.
She should’ve apologized. She should’ve acted drunk. She should’ve turned the charm on full blast, forced out a nervous giggle, and invented another excuse about getting lost on the way to the powder room.
But with Malcolm towering over her, all she said was, “I need to speak with Dorian.”
“And you thought you’d find him down here?” He glanced over her shoulder at the table behind her. “Under the glass, perhaps?”
“Please, Malcolm. If you could let your brother know I’m looking for him—”
“Well, well,” he said suddenly, his gaze shifting to the elevator. “It seems the devil’s ears are ringing.”
The door slid open, and Dorian walked out alone, his tie undone again, eyes red, jaw tight. His hair was a hot, sexy mess.
“Dorian,” she whispered, fingers curling at the thought of running her hands through it.
And though he shouldn’t have been able to hear her all the way across the room, he glanced up immediately, his eyes and mouth softening at the sight of her.
“Ms. D’Amico,” he said, approaching them so gracefully, he practically glided. “Is my brother harassing you?”
“Hardly,” Malcolm said. “I found her here, looking as if—”
Dorian cut him off with a raised hand, the two brothers glaring at each other over the top of Charley’s head.
Were they always at odds, or was it just her? She was starting to get a complex.
After another few seconds of silent dick-measuring, Malcolm finally retreated, heading back upstairs and leaving them blissfully alone.
“What’s wrong, love?” Dorian asked. “He didn’t frighten you, did he?”
Charley had a million questions now—where were you? What’s down there? What’s up with your crazy family? Why didn’t you tell me about your father?—but she couldn’t hold his gaze.
Instead, she turned toward the table and pointed at the statue beneath the glass. “Where did you get this?”
“Hermes?” Dorian slipped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. Then, sliding his hands across the front of her thighs, “Care to make a bid? I’m willing to part with it for the right offer.”
This can’t be happening…
Charley wanted nothing more than to sink into the warm comfort of Dorian’s strong embrace, to lean back against him and feel every muscled ridge of his body molding to hers. She wanted him to reach up and cup her breasts, to growl into her ear with that deliciously deep, commanding voice. Maybe then she could forget about what she’d found. About where she’d come from. Who she was.
But when she turned around in his arms and met his eyes, Charley knew she couldn’t forget. She was casing her almost-lover’s house, and she’d just discovered another piece of art connected to her father’s murder.
She couldn’t pretend it wasn’t happening, no matter how badly she wanted to surrender. “Where, Dorian? Tell me where it came from. I need to know.”
Dorian backed Charley right up to the glass, pressing his hands against the case and trapping her inside his arms, his gaze narrowing suspiciously. “Why?”
Charley’s heart rattled in her chest, the voice in her head screaming for her to forget about Hermes, forget about the LaPorte, and seduce her way out of yet another sticky situation with Dorian.
But she couldn’t let this go.
“Tell me,” she pressed.
“I don’t know what your interest is, Charlotte, but obviously you’re upset.”
She didn’t need to confirm it—every muscle in her body was vibrating.
“Clearly we’ve got some things to discuss,” he said.
“You think?”
“It’s settled then.” A hint of his rakish smile broke through. “You’ll stay the weekend.”
“I’ll… what?”
Disarmed. That’s how Charley felt. Despite her racing heart and the mistrust swirling between them, Dorian’s smile drained the fear and tension from her body, replacing it with that mind-erasing desire he was so damn good at igniting.
“Something tells me this isn’t about what we need to discuss.” She pressed her hand against his firm chest. “You’ve got ulterior motives, Mr. Redthorne.”
Dorian leaned in close, dragging his lips down the long column of her neck, pressing a hot kiss into the hollow of her throat. “And you’ve been dodging me, Ms. D’Amico.”
Damn. Her list of regrets was growing exponentially by the minute, but telling Dorian her last name was no longer one of them. She’d never get sick of hearing it on his lips.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she breathed.
“It would be futile, I assure you.” Dorian fisted her dress, slowly lifting it to reveal her bare legs. The cool basement air teased her skin, casting her flesh in goosebumps even as Dorian’s touch flooded her core with molten heat. “I can be very persuasive.”
Charley sighed, eyelids fluttering closed as Dorian slipped his fingers inside her underwear for the second time that night. He was totally distracting her, leading her dangerously away from her purpose, but all she could do was follow him right off the path, straight into oblivion.
She craved his touch. Needed it.
“Always ready for more,” he whispered, nipping at her earlobe. “I love that about you.”
Before she could respond, Dorian claimed her mouth in a violent kiss. He slid his other hand behind her head, bringing her closer, teasing and biting until she was certain he’d draw blood…
The sudden pinch of sharp, eager teeth on her fleshy lip made her gasp, but she didn’t pull back, not even as the warm, salty blood leaked into her mouth. Dorian moaned into the kiss, his fingers thrusting deeper between her thighs as he sucked and licked and devoured and claimed.
Tingling heat gathered in her core, but suddenly, Charley couldn’t breathe. He was destroying her with his kiss, marking her flesh, and she couldn’t fucking breathe.
She tried to speak but managed only a muffled plea.
Dorian ignored her.
Panic flooded her limbs, and she shoved against his chest, desperate for air. But they were too close, her resistance easily mistaken for play, and Dorian persisted, his grip tightening in her hair as he plundered her with his tongue and fingers.
Stars danced before her eyes, her legs weakening, the slide of his fingers relentless as he licked and sucked and stole the very last breath from her lungs.
The edges of her vision turned gray.
She couldn’t hold herself up. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t even see.
She collapsed in his arms, and Dorian crushed her against his chest, moaning into her mouth as he thumbed her clit and fucked her with those mad, unabating fingers.
What is happening to me? I can’t… This is… I’m going to… holy shit…
The orgasm tore through her in a blinding rush, her body clenching around his fingers, heat spreading down her thighs and up through her chest, the intense pleasure mixing with the fear of certain death—a cocktail that sent a surge of raw adrenaline shooting through her veins.