I Like Being Watched

I could feel myself recoiling from that thought. Which was why I forced my brain to repeat it over and over until it had me stiffening and pulling out of his hold.

"You have guests," I reminded him, wincing a bit at the sharp edge to my words as I moved away completely, straightening my dress and tucking my breasts away again before turning to face him again.

And there he was, head ducked to the side a bit, watching me with a quizzical brow.

"What's the matter?" he asked, refusing to just let me have my confusion in peace.

"Nothing," I said, lifting my chin a bit, trying to give the impression of honesty through the lie. "But there is going to be something the matter if you don't get back down there and kiss-ass with your business partners," I added, making my tone a little higher, lighter, but it sounded painfully fake even to my own ears.

"Wynn..." he said, his arm moving.

I knew that if I let him reach out to me right then, it was not going to be good for me in the long term. I needed to keep my distance right then. I was feeling too raw and vulnerable, too mixed up in my own head and heart. I needed some time and space to get myself together.

"I need to go... freshen up," I said, waving at my hair that had to have been askew from his hands. "I'll see you down there."

With that, I turned and all but ran away from him.

And the growing feelings there was no denying I was starting to feel for him.

Thirteen

Fitz

She'd been true to her word.

At least partially.

I did "see her down there" after she spent half an hour freshening up.

I wasn't sure what kind of freshening up she'd done, but when she'd made it back downstairs after, there was something cold and untouchable about her. In fact, she'd even smoothed away the golden traces of my touch from her dress. Front and back.

Like she was trying to erase what had happened.

But, no. That made no sense. She'd initiated it. Since the beginning, she'd always been the one to initiate. Hell, she'd literally asked for it, demanded I fuck her right there in full display of anyone who might happen through the foyer.

Damn if it hadn't been the best fucking sex of my life too.

So much so that my cock got half hard anytime I spotted her or even smelled her scent in the air if she passed by.

The thing was, she'd made it a point to avoid being anywhere near me for the rest of the evening. She'd spent all her time engaging the wives who'd come, then dipping off to the kitchen or talking to the servers, all the while avoiding Robert.

And me.

I'd just gotten close enough at one point to reach out, to pull her into the hallway to demand to know what was going on when my damn brother came bursting in, already half drunk with a girl who hadn't even attempted to go for classy with the bright pink dress with hipbone cutouts.

I couldn't look away from Blake or his date for the rest of the evening, lest they do or say something that would compromise the deal. Hell, just having them there was embarrassing enough. I needed to make sure they didn't make it any worse than it was.

But because of that, Wynn had somehow managed not only to disappear from the crowd, but hide out somewhere even after it dispersed.

She'd stuck behind until all the staff had left. But before I could uncover her hiding spot, I caught sight of her tail lights as she pulled out of the driveway.

I should have been exhausted. True, Wynn had handled all the preparation for the event, but I wasn't a party person by nature. So all the socializing had been foreign and draining.

Any other time, I would have fallen into bed immediately after, sleeping it off.

Instead, though, I found myself sitting in my study with a drink in my hand, trying to figure out what the hell had happened with Wynn.

That was another first for me. I'd never been someone who analyzed their interaction with the opposite sex. I always accepted it at face value. Good, bad, or indifferent. There was never any reason to analyze it because it never meant anything.

This shouldn't have meant anything either.

But, somehow, I guess it did.

I wanted to tell myself it was just because we'd been explosive with each other, that I'd never felt that exhilarated before, had never come so hard in my life.

But after two drinks, I dragged myself up to my bedroom, stripping out of clothes that still had her scent all over them, and dropping into bed with one realization: it wasn't about the sex.

I mean, sure, it was a factor. Sex was always a factor. If you were having it, if you weren't, it was always something to consider. But sex wasn't the only reason I couldn't get her out of my head, was it?