“Ian texted me,” she said in a hushed voice after a moment, kidding herself by bringing up mundane topics, trying to ignore the blatant, unapologetic lust in Kam’s gaze. “He asked if we’d meet them in the Coffee Boutique for an after-dinner drink in a half hour or so,” she said, referring to the extremely popular European-style coffeehouse and bakery inside Lucien’s hotel.

He stiffened. “I thought you said you were done with work for the night.”

“I did, but it wouldn’t hurt, would it? Ian and Lucien are just curious about how things went with the Gersbachs. They’re your family, Kam,” she added when his frown grew fierce. “They care about you.”

“You said you’d think about it.”

She froze. She knew exactly what he was talking about, of course. Heat rushed into her cheeks despite her chilled skin. She’d told him she’d think about whether he’d have her to himself after the Gersbach dinner. His thumb moved, caressing her right arm. His touch amplified her trembling.

“What about Ian?” she asked.

“Hang Ian.”

She gave him a repressive glance.

“All right. We’ll meet with them,” he growled. “But I’ll give him a half hour tops. And afterward, you’re mine. In the meantime . . . we still have a little while together.”

She swallowed thickly when his deep, rough voice dropped in volume, sounding more intimate. Sexy. Something flickered inside her, like a match being struck at her very core. She avoided his piercing stare. Or maybe she was avoiding studying her own motives. She hadn’t agreed to come with him later tonight, but she hadn’t said no, either. The sexual awareness they’d had of each other all day and night was electrical. She longed to allow the spark to ignite. Still, her doubts lingered. Her motives for lusting after Kam Reardon were not rational.

Nor were they pure.

“We do have a lot to discuss after tonight,” she continued, studying his silk tie, trying her best to keep up the lie, and failing miserably. “And I still need to brief you about our weekend meeting with Jason Klinf, the CEO of Klinf Inc.,” she rambled on stupidly. His hands tightened on her arms. She shivered again and swallowed. Her throat had gone very dry.

“I don’t give a fuck about Jason Klinf.” For some reason, his raw language struck her as honest, slicing through her façade like a hot knife through butter. He drew her closer, so that the front of her just whispered against his length, the tips of her breasts brushing against his lapels. Her nipples drew so tight at the gesture that she nearly whimpered. Liquid heat surged from her core.

“I . . . I left my wrap in the cloakroom. I just realized,” she said in a choked voice. She dared to meet his eyes. “Just give me a moment while I go get it?”

His eyelids narrowed, making his eyes into gleaming crescents of silvery light. Her blood began to pulse like a beacon at her neck.

She turned, and the doorman opened the door for her to reenter the hotel.

Her gaze automatically went to the entrance of Frais in the distance as she hastened through the luxurious lobby. Francesca, Elise, and Lucien were in there.

Ian.

She walked down a hallway that led in the opposite direction, her breath escalated far past what it should be given her activity level. The ballroom door was shut, the room desolate and the lights dimmed when she entered. She felt breathless as she opened the cloakroom. Why was her heart racing so fast?

She found a switch just inside the door. Light flooded the narrow, long room. Her wrap was the only garment remaining after the showing. She passed a rack of hangers and a wooden shelf with dozens of compartments in it for hats or gloves. She had just removed her wrap, when there was a click and the closet plunged into opaque blackness.

“Shhh. It’s me,” a voice said when she gasped.

“Kam?” she whispered, recognizing his familiar, rough growl.

“Yes.”

She started at the sound of the door clicking shut. She heard the metallic snick of a lock. Her pounding heartbeat became a roar. They were alone together in the darkness. Her nipples chafed and prickled against the tight fabric of her dress.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, finding her voice.

His hands enclosed her shoulders, gentle but firm.

“You know what I’m doing,” he replied, his knowing tone sending a thrill through her.

His hands moved over the naked skin of her back, gliding and kneading. A shaky moan escaped her throat when he pushed her against him at the same time he stepped forward. She bumped against a solid surface from behind. She was sandwiched between a storage cabinet and Kam, the fronts of their bodies sealed tight. He was long and hard, all hungry, primal male in the darkness. His hand captured a fistful of her loose hair at the nape. He tugged gently, tilting back her head.

“Here?” she whispered shakily, but she was still clinging on to her lie by asking the one-word question. She’d guessed his intention earlier when he’d said: In the meantime . . . we still have a little while together. She’d seen that look in his eyes when she’d said she was going for her wrap. Somehow, some way, they’d made an illicit, non-verbal pact in those seconds, although she’d doubted at the time she was correctly interpreting his boldness. Her wantonness. Who could really believe they would go to such extreme ends for sexual gratification? Now the undeniable truth was pressed against her, his hands moving over her greedily, her fragile lie turning to mist next to his male heat.

She trembled uncontrollably when he nipped insistently at her mouth and she opened for him.

“Here,” he assured succinctly.

Chapter Six

His warm, fragrant breath brushed over her sensitive lips in the pitch-black room. “You’ve been driving me crazy all day and night. I won’t wait another second to taste you. All of you.”

He seized her mouth with his own. His tongue penetrated her lips. That sinking sensation she felt every time he looked at her struck, but this time, it was exponential; a stark, thrilling plunge straight into lust. Heat swept through her like a flash fire. She dropped her wrap and clutch purse heedlessly and reached for him, grasping his shoulder and twisting her fingers in his gorgeous, thick hair. It was like setting a spark to carefully laid timber. She hadn’t realized until that moment how her desire had been building all night . . . all day, ever since he’d entered Ian’s office this morning and pinned her with his stare. She kissed him back, starved for his taste, begging him without words to take possession, to sweep aside her uncertainties and make her forget everything but this heat.

He moved his hands to her hips and lifted. Her bottom plunked down on the top of the cabinet. His kiss never faltered. He ate her tiny cry of surprise and her subsequent whimpers of arousal. His hands moved over her, bold and hungry, kneading her hips and ass, shaping her flesh to his palms. She parted her thighs willingly, using them to bracket his hips and bring him closer. Working feverishly, she loosened his tie, her fingers finding the buttons of his shirt. She unfastened the top three before she grew impatient and plunged her hand into the opening. The heat of him, the feeling of his smooth, thick skin and the springy hair on his chest, only amplified her lust.

She pulsed her hips forward on the smooth surface of the cabinet, bumping her crotch against his. She moaned into his mouth. He was a full, delightful package against her straining flesh. She recalled the stark beauty of his cock from that night they’d been together. She ground against him at the same moment that she found a nipple with her fingertip and flicked it gently with a nail.

His cock leapt against her spread pussy, and even through the fabric of their clothing, she felt his heat. He broke their kiss and hissed against her lips. He reached for the clasp of her dress at the back of her neck. Their soughing breath and the pound of her heart mingled in her ears as he deliberately lowered the dress over her breasts. He cupped her from below. He gave a low growl and his body responded just as appreciatively. She wasn’t wearing a bra. His thumbs feathered both nipples, and she gasped as pleasure shook her.

Then he was gone, his big, warm hands, his solid body, his addictive taste. Everything.

“Kam?” she asked shakily, disoriented by his abrupt absence.

The light switched on. Her breath caught. He stood just inside the closed door, his hand still on the switch, looking back at her. He came toward her, his gaze scorching.

“Damned if I’m going to miss out on seeing that,” he said, nodding at her partial nudity and splayed thighs. He knocked aside a couple of hangers above her head, and then reached for her hands. He guided them to the metal coatrack just above her head.

“Hold on tight,” he said, giving her a swift, grim glance. “And don’t let go. Do you understand?”

Her lungs weren’t working properly. She couldn’t speak, so she nodded and gripped onto the metal bar. Kam slid his hands beneath her dress and grasped her ass. He lifted and used his forearms to peel back her dress. When he set her back on the cabinet, her dress was bunched up around her hips. She looked down when he just stared fixedly between her thighs. A tiny triangle of black silk barely covered her outer sex. He opened his hand along her silk thigh-highs. It looked large and dark and masculine next her pale skin and feminine lingerie.

“I can’t stop thinking about your pussy,” he muttered, his jaw tight. A shaky cry fell past her lips as she watched him bend at the waist while, in one swipe, he used his hands to part her thighs wider. He grabbed her hips. She gripped onto the rack and stared ahead in sightless wonder as he pressed his face against her outer sex and nuzzled her labia. He tongued her through the thin fabric of her panties, his tongue warm and wet, pressing insistently against her sex lips, providing a relentless, delightful . . . forbidden pressure against her clit. He tightened his hold on her hips and ass, pulsing her hips forward against his rigid tongue.

She bit her lip as she resisted an overpowering urge to sink her fingers into his hair and pull him closer to her. He made a harsh sound in his throat and abruptly slid his hand along her hip, inserting his finger beneath her panties and lifting the fabric just an inch or two sideways over her pussy.

His tongue swept between her labia, slipping between the folds. She gasped sharply, the sensation of naked, wet flesh sliding and pressing against her naked clit growing exponentially powerful following the separation by fabric.

“Ah God . . . Kam,” she moaned, one of her hands releasing from the bar, automatically wanting to press him to her. He lifted his head slightly.

“Keep your hands on the bar,” he said, as if he had eyes in the back of his head and knew precisely what she’d been about to do.

She suppressed a groan and did what he demanded. Her reward was to have his tongue burrowing again in her outer sex, rubbing and agitating her clit. His mouth closed over her, his lips applying a firm pressure. His tongue continued to torment her . . . to delight her. When he applied a gentle suction, she barely stopped herself from screaming. She pulled down experimentally on the bar, but the construction was secure, the metal rod unyielding. She firmed her hold and used it to shift her hips, pressing her pussy against the heaven of his mouth and rigid tongue, earning more pressure and pleasure. He’d transformed her into a greedy wanton, and part of her was liberated.

Free.

He tightened his hold on her hips as he continued to eat her and she writhed against him. Her clit sizzled. She longed to ignite. She grew so frantic, perhaps he grew weary of having to hold her steady for his tongue.

Smack.

He’d popped her bottom with his palm.

Lin stilled, feeling the sting on her ass. She looked down in amazement and saw him looking up at her, his eyes hot, his lower mouth slick with her juices. He was so beautiful, her core clenched tight in instinctive craving.

“Keep still and take your pleasure, mon petit chaton,” he ordered gruffly.

She nodded, panting raggedly. No one had ever swatted her before. She had the impression no man would ever dare. Not that it hurt. It stung, though, like a sexy, tactile tattoo. She swore she could feel his handprint burning on the side of her right buttock. His gaze sunk down over her face and latched onto her heaving breasts.