Page 18 of Savage Prince
“I wasn’t—” I say quickly, trying to deny it.
“Don’t waste your breath lying about it. It was sexy as fuck. Just like you.”
Heat zings from my nipples to my clit at the hunger in his gaze. I’ve convinced myself it was just the club itself and watching the couple that made our encounter so explosive, but now I know I’m wrong.
It’s him. This man wears raw power and confidence easier than he does his suit jacket.
“I can’t do this here. Not now.”
“Do what? We’re just talking.”
“I’m at work.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What about later?”
It’s a struggle to fight my body’s reaction. To fight the urge to reach out and press my palm to his hard chest. To remember why I have to hurry the rest of the way down these stairs.
“I can’t. That night ... it was a mistake.”
He presses his other palm to the wall, caging me between his strong arms. But instead of feeling trapped, my body is staging a mutiny and urging me to wrap myself around him.
God, he smells so good.
I force my reactions down and curl my hands into fists to keep from touching him.
“A mistake? Is that what you’re telling yourself? Because I remember it differently—a beautiful woman bending to my command so I could turn her ass red before I fucked her and made her come so hard, I thought her pussy was going to strangle my cock.”
Oh my God.His words are like fuel on the fire raging inside me, and I can’t form a coherent response.
He lowers his head and skims his lips along my forehead to my ear. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
Unable to respond, I haul in a shaky breath.
“Meet me again. Tonight.”
My chin jerks up so I can meet his fierce gaze. “But—”
“Sayyes, dammit, and I swear you won’t regret it.”
“I can’t.”
Those icy blue eyes snap with energy. “You can, and you want to.” He drops one arm and pulls something from his pocket.
A business card.
He presses it into my hand. “I’ll see you tonight.”
He backs away, holding my stare hostage until he turns to climb the stairs and return to the fundraiser. I’m still frozen in place when he disappears through the door.
What the hell is wrong with me? I didn’t even ask his name.
More than anything, I want to chase after him, but—Standish.
Shit. I shove the card into my bra and run.
When I reach my office, there’s no sign of the artist there, in the hallway or out in the parking lot. The valets confirm they haven’t seen a man matching his description.
Just freaking great.
