One Night: Sizzling Attraction: Married for Amari's Heir / Damaso Claims His Heir / Her Secret, His Duty. Annie West
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for hotel suites. All things considered, I can do whatever the hell I want here.” He kissed her just beneath her jaw.
“This is a nice dress,” she said.
“It would look nicer crumpled up on the floor.”
“That won’t help me choose,” she said.
“I like your lips,” he said, leaning in and kissing her hard, deep. When they parted, they were both breathing hard. “But I like them much better when they are wrapped around my dick.”
Desire shot through her like an arrow, hitting its target straight on, the ache inside of her intensifying. But this was how things always went with him. He demanded; she acquiesced. He pushed and she gave way.
But not now. She would make him wait. She would make him beg.
“I have shopping to do,” she said, leaning forward and taking his lower lip between her teeth, nipping him gently. “And you need to go sit out there and behave yourself. And tell me which dress you think looks best.”
He growled, tightening his hold on her and pulling her firmly against his body. “Is that what I have to do?”
“Yes,” she said, keeping her tone firm.
He released his hold on her and took a step back, his dark eyes glittering. “Have it your way.” He turned and walked out of the dressing room, and for a moment she was afraid he had walked out altogether. Until she heard him settle in the chair.
She moved away from the mirror and turned to face it, so that she could get a look at the gown for the first time since she’d put it on. It was beautiful. Elegant. And not her at all.
Which was a strange thought to have, because she had only just been thinking that she wasn’t certain who she was. But she was not this dress. That was all she knew.
She managed to unzip it on her own, and then stood in her underwear appraising the other garments that were available to her.
She reached out and touched one that looked like molten gold, the fabric shimmering as it moved beneath her fingertips. It was definitely flashy. Not something she would have gravitated toward under normal circumstances. Not unless she was trying to draw attention to herself for a con. But then, standing there, looking at all the dresses, she found she liked that one best. There was no reason for her to like it best. No brief that she was filling, except for her own.
And because there was no reason for her to like it other than that she simply did, she decided to try it next.
She removed it from the hanger and slipped it on. This one was strapless too, but the zipper was a little bit more cooperative. She removed her bra. The support built into the gown was all that was needed for her curves.
She looked up at her reflection in the mirror and her breath caught in her throat. Even without makeup, and without her hair done, she almost looked like a different person in the shimmering golden wonder. It lit up her complexion, catching the warmth in the brown tone of her skin and eyes.
She shifted and the light caught hold of the fabric, lighting the small space with a shower of sparkles. She tilted her head to the side and placed her hand on her hip, shifting her weight to her left leg. The fabric parted, revealing a high slit that ended well above her knee.
She liked this. And that hidden bit of daring meant that Rocco would probably like it, too.
She turned toward the curtains and walked out of the dressing room. Rocco was sitting in the chair, his posture casual, his manner disinterested. Until he lifted his gaze and saw her standing there.
Then his focus sharpened, his expression going as hard as stone.
“What do you think?” she asked. But she already knew what he thought. And it made her feel hot all over. Such an amazing thing, to be able to read the thoughts of another person so clearly. To be close enough to someone to be confident that she knew what he wanted.
And to know that what he wanted was her.
“You look very expensive,” he said, his voice measured.
“There isn’t a price tag on the dress. Which means it must be.”
“That is not what I meant. The dress doesn’t look expensive.” He pushed against the arms of the chair and stood. “You look expensive. There are not many things I can’t afford, Charity. But you look like you might be one of them.”
“Is that a compliment, Rocco?”
He cupped her chin, tilted her face upward. His dark eyes were burning with the dark flame. “How could it be anything else?”
“Some women might not like the implication that they can be bought.”
“That isn’t what I was talking about. I like expensive things,” he said, tracing her lower lip with his thumb. “Not because they represent status but...a certain amount of security. Stability.” He moved his hand, pushing his fingers through her curls. “It shows that you are not...weak. Not helpless. I am a man who has spent his whole life collecting things. To show that I am no longer a boy in an empty house. A boy with no power. I am now a man who has all the power. All the wealth that one could possibly want. There is nothing I cannot have...but you. You are far beyond me. Beyond any man who will be at the gala tonight.” He slid his palm over her cheek. “Expensive is perhaps...not the right word. Priceless. You look priceless.”
Charity tried to breathe and found that she couldn’t. Something shifted inside of her, an empty space filling. A part of her that had always felt reed thin, insubstantial and easily broken felt strengthened, wrapped up in his words as though they were spun gold, reinforcing her. Shielding her.
She had never felt valuable. From the first moment she could remember she had felt like a drain. Because her father had made it clear that having her cost him. That she had to earn her keep. She didn’t add to his life, she took away.
To have Rocco look at her and say that she had value...it was altering in a way she’d never imagined she needed.
“If I’m so costly...am I worth the trouble?” She knew she sounded insecure, desperate even... Right now she didn’t care. She was testing this newfound strength inside of her. Seeing if it could grow even more. Seeing if he might build it up or knock it down. Seeing if she could withstand it either way.
“Everything worth having in life is trouble. It comes at high cost, at high risk and with much work. Easy things are for those too weak to mine life for all its richness. At least that’s my take on it.”
“I’ll take this dress,” she said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips. “It had the exact effect I was looking for.”
“It made me want you? Believe me when I say, I want you in or out of the dress, Charity. It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing.”
“That isn’t what I meant. It makes me feel special. It makes me feel like me. I like that. But you said some nice things, too.”
A smile curved his lips. “As far as I’m concerned, that was damn poetry, woman.”
“Noted. And appreciated.” She closed her eyes and kissed him again, letting the feeling of closeness, the feeling of—if not camaraderie—not being at each other’s throats, wash over her. “I guess we’re done here then.”
“Not quite.” That smile of his turned wicked. “I was thinking perhaps you’d like a chance to choose some of your own lingerie, too.”
THE GALA WAS a glittering affair. From the high-gloss marble floors to the pristine white pillars, to the chandeliers dripping with crystal hanging low from the ceilings. But nothing glittered brighter than the woman on his arm. Charity was the loveliest thing he had ever held in his possession. And he only realized