Sinful Proposition

Oh, he knew how to slow dance, but just the thought of putting his hands on her so intimately was wreaking havoc with his libido, and he had a feeling she was well aware of his predicament, too. It was another sexy dare from her, and while he’d spent the past few years avoiding this kind of close contact with Tempest, the sexually starved man in him who desired this woman slipped past all his carefully erected walls.

Fuck it, he decided. What could happen in a room full of people? Giving in to the temptation to touch her, to enjoy the feel of her in his arms, even for a few minutes, he placed his hand on her bare back and slowly caressed his palm all the way down to the base of her spine. The subtle pressure of his hand against her smooth skin drew her as close as the two of them could get, aligning their hips in a way that was suggestively carnal.

Breathing became difficult . . . He hadn’t been this close to a woman in over three years, and there was no denying she felt so damn good. She was incredibly soft, she smelled like heaven, and she made him want to do something wild and wicked and uncharacteristic—like take her somewhere dark and private where he could give in to the lust clamoring inside him.

An unmistakable shiver coursed through her as they shifted in time to the slow song. With her staring into his eyes, her own darkened with awareness as she moved her head to the side of his to speak into his ear. “See, touching me wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“You’re bad,” he murmured, shocking himself with his own playful response when he’d been so indifferent to women for years. It was as though this woman was rousing his sex drive, along with a more indulgent part of him, from a long, deep slumber. The thought was both frightening and exhilarating.

She drew her head back and laughed. To his surprise, the light, sensual sound eased the rest of the tension in his body, allowing him to just enjoy the moment with her.

She gave him a cheeky grin. “Just for the record, Mr. Lowell, I can be very bad, depending on the circumstance.”

He had no doubt, and his mind didn’t hesitate to conjure a few dirty scenarios with her in the starring role. Which he promptly shoved right out of his head before those erotic thoughts got him into trouble. As it was, keeping his body from reacting to the feel of her gorgeous body pressed against his was becoming a lesson in self-control.

She stroked her fingers through the longer strands of his hair that fell over the collar of his jacket, a fanciful glint in her eyes as they met his again. “So, just for fun, considering this is a whimsical night, if there was one fairy tale that described you and me in this moment, what would you say it would be?”

He absently skimmed his thumb along the soft, bare skin of her back, trying not to think how natural it was beginning to feel having her in his arms. “I already told you that fairy tales are not my thing.”

“Come on, Remy,” she cajoled in a beguiling tone while her fingers brushed seductively along the nape of his neck. “Don’t be so serious and uptight. Indulge me.”

He arched an incredulous brow at her unflattering description of him, even though he couldn’t deny that he’d been more reserved since his divorce. His ex-wife’s betrayal had undoubtedly sucked the fun right out of his personality, and he’d yet to find any real joy in life again other than work. The success of Lowell Construction fulfilled his need for security and having control over his own destiny again . . . but any real pleasure in his day-to-day life had been nonexistent over the past three years.

Except right here, right now with Tempest, he was beginning to feel a glimmer of enjoyment. She was like a ray of lighthearted warmth finding its way into places that had felt stone cold for so long.

“I’m not uptight,” he begged to differ, forcing a lightness to his voice so he didn’t sound defensive. “I’m practical. There’s a difference.”

The impudent minx had the audacity to roll her eyes at him. “You’re changing the subject.” Her chastising tone was softened by the carefree smile curving the full lips he suddenly ached to taste. “And practical is boring. Be a little spontaneous, Remy, and don’t overthink my question.”

As they continued to slow dance, he glanced down at her upturned face, his mind truly unable to come up with a response that would satisfy her inquisitive mind. So, he opted for a shockingly honest reply instead.

“Growing up, I didn’t read about or believe in any kind of fairy tales,” he said, keeping his reply superficial since he had no desire to delve into his less-than-idyllic childhood. “So, I’m not avoiding your question as much as I don’t have any

fairy-tale knowledge to draw from. How about you tell me what fairy tale comes to mind that describes you and me in this moment?”

He’d shocked himself by turning the question on Tempest but had to admit he was sincerely intrigued by what her answer might be.

“Hmmm.” The soft sound rumbled in her throat as she thought for a moment, her eyes suddenly sparkling playfully. “I think I’d go with Lady and the Tramp.”

He laughed, the genuinely amused sound a bit rusty to his ears. While he’d never read fairy tales or watched Disney movies as a child, he at least knew the premise of that story, which was pretty damned close to the truth. “That description is probably more apropos than you know.”

“Do tell.” She tipped her head, her expression openly curious. “You can’t make a cryptic comment like that and not explain.”

He lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “You’re every inch a lady. A veritable princess who lives in this castle of a building,” he said of the once-dilapidated structure that was now a prime piece of real estate worth millions. “And me . . . well, I’m about as scrappy as a mutt can get.” They came from opposite worlds, and not being good enough for someone was the fucking story of his life.

Thank God Raevynn’s song ended, which meant their ridiculous conversation was over, his obligation to dance with Tempest had been fulfilled, and he could finally leave. Because while the sexy, sensual woman standing in front of him might not have cast a fairy tale spell on him as she’d promised, she’d definitely spun a seductive one that was sorely testing his resolve to be a gentleman with her.

Before he could issue a goodbye, she reached out and lightly touched the sleeve of his jacket. “I know you’re dying to get out of here, but before you go, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you,” she said quickly, as if sensing his need to escape—everything. Especially her. “It’s business related.”

He could have told her that he’d rather talk business at his office or on the phone during the week. Both options would establish much-needed space between them, as well as provide a safe, nonsexual, work-related environment for his benefit that would keep his desire for her firmly in check. But he was intrigued enough by her request and what she could potentially want from him—businesswise—that he relented.

He exhaled a deep breath. “Sure.”

She gave him a delighted smile. “And here I thought you were going to shoot me down.”

He laughed at just how close he’d come to doing just that. “So, what kind of business did you want to discuss?”

She glanced around the loud, crowded ballroom as if searching for a quiet place to talk, which was nonexistent. Her gaze narrowed in on someone or something in the distance, then she quickly inclined her head toward the bank of elevators that led to the upper floors of the building—which included the offices for MadX-Tech Security Systems and, above that, three other floors with private living quarters that Remy had designed and constructed for Maddux, Hunter, and Tempest three years ago.