Claiming The Royal Innocent. Дженнифер Хейворд
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she said, repeating what Kara had told her. “We’re on a few of the same charitable boards.”
He inclined his head. “And what do you do when you aren’t tending to these...charitable endeavors?”
She blinked. Thought furiously. But a few scattered conversations with Kara hadn’t provided that depth of information. “Mostly that,” she murmured awkwardly. “My father has a large philanthropic portfolio. He needs the help.”
“And where is home?”
“Texas,” she said faintly, as if that would make up for her lack of a drawl.
“Funny, you don’t sound like a Southerner.”
Her mouth went even drier. Diavole, but this had been a bad idea. “I think I’ve lost my accent,” she prevaricated. “I travel so much I’ve become somewhat...international.”
His mouth twisted. “I get that one hundred percent. It’s the same with me.” His hand tightened around hers as he spun her in a smooth circle. “Texas is a big state. Which part?”
She had no idea. “Dallas,” she said, guessing.
“The home of J.R. Ewing...”
She smiled a tight smile. “The very same. And you?” she asked, attempting to regain control of the conversation. “How do you know Stella?”
“I’m a business partner of the king.”
Oh, no. Not good. Swallowing her panic, she lifted her gaze to his. “What business would that be?”
“Hotels and casinos. A bit of this, a bit of that.”
She thought that fit perfectly with his dark, edgy vibe. “That must be a very...interesting world.”
His mouth quirked. “You don’t sound so sure about that.”
She lifted a shoulder. “I’m not a gambler. It seems to me you prey on the vulnerable. Take unsuspecting people’s money.”
“Those who walk into a casino do so of their own volition.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “but do they always know their limits?”
“They should. I find there is an epidemic of late of people who have no sense of personal responsibility. We are all responsible for our own actions.”
Yes, she agreed silently, hysteria biting at the edges of her composure. That concept was top of mind at the moment.
“Perhaps true,” she conceded. “Although I’m not sure it’s a fair comparison. I’m an idealist. I think we all need to be looking out for the greater good.”
“A dying breed,” he said softly, his dark gaze resting on her face. “Idealists...”
He left it at that. She shut up before she said something she shouldn’t. She should have protested when he tugged her closer so his tall, muscular body brushed against hers, his chin resting atop her head. But when there was no talking involved, there was no danger in exposing herself.
She couldn’t resist allowing herself to melt into all that strength, just for a moment, of course, until the dance was over. It felt hedonistically good, frankly exciting to be in his arms, and when would she ever have another chance to meet a man like him? Stunning-looking members of the opposite sex were a precious commodity in Stygos. She’d known all of them since childhood.
The plaintive, haunting notes of the saxophone were beautiful. The champagne had kicked in full force now, leaving in its wake a heady buzzing feeling that instilled a confidence in her she hadn’t had before. It made the dangerous attraction she felt toward the man holding her even more powerful. Made her even more aware of the strong column of his thighs as they pressed against her, driving home how powerfully built he was. How the spicy scent of his cologne mixed with the heady male musk of him was doing crazy things to her insides...
The warmth of his hand splayed at her waist burned her skin like a brand through the thin silk of her dress. It made her wonder what it would be like to be touched by him. Truly touched by him.
Her champagne-clouded brain was floating in a sea of pheromones when the song came to an end. She moved to extract her fingers from his, but he tightened his hold. “One more.”
She should have ended it right there. But it was far too tempting to say yes. A glance over his shoulder revealed the king still deep in conversation. How harmful was one more dance?
He pulled her closer, their bodies perfectly aligning as they moved to the sultry notes of the song. It was an inappropriate hold, she knew, the heat of him moving through her like the most potent of caresses, his hand drifting lower to lie against the small of her back. But her sensible side seemed to have deserted her. He was the dark, mysterious hero of her favorite novels come to life, with a dangerous, presumptive twist that was impossible to resist.
A couple more minutes and she’d go.
She thought maybe a third song had come and gone when she finally pulled her head from where it was nestled under his chin and realized they had gradually worked their way from the couples dancing along the edge of the ballroom to the shadows of the small terrace that led off it.
She looked up into the mesmerizing heat of his black gaze, suddenly aware of exactly where this was going. “I told you I’m not interested in being a diversion,” she reminded him a little too breathlessly.
“No?” he said derisively, bending his head toward her. “Your signals are saying the contrary.” Sliding his fingers around her jaw, he captured her lips in a kiss unlike any she’d had before. Cajoling and demanding her acquiescence all at the same time, it was sensual, playful and masterful, enticing her to respond to his seductive expertise.
Her lips clung to his, helpless to resist his slow, intoxicating kisses. She swayed closer to him, her hand settling on his waist. He drew her into his warmth, the proximity of their bodies sending a shiver through her.
He lifted his lips from hers, their breath mingling. “Open your mouth, angel.”
She hadn’t been aware she was denying him anything. Obeying his command, she allowed his firm, beautiful mouth to part hers in a hot, languorous exploration she felt right down to her toes.
Her sigh split the air. He moved his hands down to her hips and shaped her buttocks, drawing her even closer to him until their bodies were molded together without a centimeter between them. She could feel the hard heat of him burning against the juncture of her thighs, as impressive as the rest of him. It made her knees weak.
“Aristos,” she gasped, pulling her mouth from his. “Stop.”
Satisfaction laced his gaze as she stared up at him, the supreme control she found there snapping her out of her haze. She put a palm against his chest to put some distance between them, but the hand he held at the small of her back kept her where she was. He slid it down over her buttock to wrap around her thigh.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, pushing harder against the rock-solid wall of his chest to no avail.
“Checking for weapons.”
“Weapons?” Her brain struggled to compute. “Why would I be carrying weapons?”
He ran his palm over her other buttock and down the back of her thigh in a leisurely exploration that brought a heated wave to her cheeks. “Maybe you should tell me, Kara.”
The edge to his voice made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. He knows. Had known all this time.
She pushed a hand against his chest and this time he released her, setting her away from him. She bit down into her lip. Hard. “You know I’m not Kara.”
He raked his gaze over her face. “Correct, angel. So maybe you’d care to tell me what you’re doing here. And why you impersonated Kara Nicholson to get in.”
A buzzing sound filled her ears.