He presses a kiss to her cheek. “Yes,” he says, “I do.”
I’ve just handed Damien his drink when Dallas and Jane approach with Noah Carter and Lyle Tarpin. Dallas is one of the investors in The Resort at Cortez, and his scandalous romance with Jane filled the tabloids not that long ago. “Happy birthday, buddy,” Dallas says. “We appreciate the invite. Of course, you need to be nice to me if you want to make up for stealing away one of my best men,” he adds, glancing at Noah, the tech genius that Damien’s been recruiting.
Noah holds up his hands. “What can I say?” he says. “I need more excitement in my life.”
The men laugh, and Jane bites back a smile, though I don’t get the joke at all. Then again, I’ve always known there’s more to Dallas Sykes than meets the eye.
“How’s the movie going?” Damien asks, turning to Jane in what may be a ploy to change the subject.
“Really well,” she says, waving at Lyle Tarpin, who sees her and comes over to join us. “Lyle is amazing in it. You and Nikki are coming to the premiere, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Damien promises as Jamie comes up beside me and elbows me in the waist.
I turn to her and she cocks her head toward Lyle. I bite back the urge to roll my eyes, then introduce them. “I won’t talk business here,” Jamie says after they’ve exchanged pleasantries. She flashes her brightest on-camera smile. “But maybe tomorrow we could schedule an interview?”
Fortunately, Lyle only looks amused as Jamie leads him off toward the bar.
“Ambition in motion,” I say to Jane, who laughs.
We chat a bit more, then continue to move through the crowd. Even Edward is here, and Damien pats him on the back jovially when the driver offers his birthday wishes.
Finally, Sylvia and Jackson come over with Ronnie bouncing beside them. “We let her stay up a bit longer than planned. But now she insists on giving you a birthday kiss before Stella takes her up to bed,” Sylvia says.
“I think that can be arranged,” Damien says, crouching down so that Ronnie can throw her arms around him and plant a big, wet kiss on his cheek.
“I love you, Uncle Damie.”
“Love you, too, squirt.”
She waves enthusiastically as her dad carries her over to their nanny. And once they’re out of sight, Damien pulls me close, his arm around my waist as he looks out over the crowd that fills this enormous room.
“Thank you.”
“You already said that,” I point out.
“It deserves saying again. Thank you,” he repeats, then bends his head to kiss me. “This really is amazing.”
And as I look around at this room of colleagues and friends—of people who rearranged plans and came to Santa Barbara on such short notice to help us celebrate—I have to give myself a mental pat on the back, because I agree.
It really is amazing.
“That’s everybody,” I say as we shut the door behind Jamie, Ryan, and Wyatt. It’s almost two in the morning, which considering we’d started at six, is a sign of remarkable success. Then again, I think the laughter-filled room, the clusters of folks chatting in corners, and the liberal flowing of alcohol were also good indicators.
But there’s really only one person whose opinion counts to me. “Did you have a good time tonight?” I ask Damien.
“Did I have a good time?” he repeats. “Come here.” He takes my hands and pulls me to him, then closes his mouth hard over mine. He takes a step forward, forcing me against the wall, and I have no time to think as he deepens the kiss. His lips teasing mine, his tongue making me melt.
As his mouth claims me, his hands rise up over the thin knit of my simple sheath dress, moving from my hips to my breasts with the kind of slow, intimate purpose that is making me lose my mind. He cups my breasts roughly, that wildness juxtaposed against a string of sweet kisses that he trails down my neck with such slow and intimate precision that by the time he reaches my collarbone, I am like a wild thing, writhing against him, wanting more and more. Hell, wanting everything.
I slide my hands down to his ass, wanting to pull him closer. But he foils me, taking his hands off my breasts as he bends his mouth lower to bite and suck through the material even as he finds my wrists and lifts my arms above my head, rendering me helpless as he uses his knee to coax my legs apart, then roughly yanking my dress up to my waist.
With one bold move, he rips off my panties, then releases his hold on my wrist long enough to open his fly. He’s hard as steel and I’m so damn wet, and as he grabs each of my thighs, I hold onto his shoulders, my back arching as he thrusts hard into me, then takes me hard and fast against the wall, his release coming so quickly I can barely catch my breath.
“Damien,” I murmur, but he silences me with a kiss as his hand slips between our joined bodies and he strokes me expertly, making me squirm with a wild, building need that is all the more intense because my feet aren’t on the ground, and I’m held up only by the pressure of Damien’s body pinning me to the wall.
Higher and higher he takes me, closer and closer, until finally I’m pushed right over the edge and he holds me tight as I explode, my body shattering from the force of the orgasm.
“Thank you for my party,” he whispers when I can breathe again. “I had a very good time.”
I laugh, a little trill of victory running through me and I cling to him, enjoying both the moment and delicious sensation of his body against mine.
“Of course, I’ve done my part now,” I tease. “Tomorrow you have to come up with the evening’s entertainment.”
“Sweetheart, I think that’s already all planned out,” he says, tilting his head as if looking up toward the roof.
“Exactly the answer I was hoping for,” I admit, making him laugh. “Were you really surprised?”
“Let’s just say I had no idea my wife had such a devious side.”
I narrow my eyes, because that’s not exactly an answer to my question, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s known all along. I consider asking outright—if I do, I know he’ll tell me—but I hold my tongue, too happy with the success of the evening to take e
ven the slightest bit away from all my hard work.
I think about other kinds of hard work as I lead him into the living room and then straddle him on the couch, kissing him lightly before leaning back to grin at him.
“What?” he asks, amusement in his voice.
“I submitted the Dallas proposal early this morning,” I say. “Thank you. For everything.”
I see something like pride reflected in his smile. “You’re welcome,” he says, and I know he understands. I’m not just thanking him for the help he’s already given me, but for the support that will come if I get the job.
“There’s something else, too,” I say, sliding off of him so that I can open one of the drawers on the end table. I reach in and pull out a wrapped box about the size of a book.
His brows rise. “I thought the party was my present.”
I shrug. “I wanted to give you something tangible, too. But you’re a hard man to shop for.” I nod at the present. “Go ahead.”
He does, peeling off the paper to reveal a box of Swiss chocolates. He looks up at me, and I see confusion in his eyes. “You got me candy from the confectionary I own?”
“No,” I say. “You got them for me. Ages ago, when you took me on the Ferris wheel on the Santa Monica Pier. I saved the box.”
He still looks confused, but he opens the box. But there’s not chocolate inside, but a variety of small items. He reaches in and lifts out a tiny wrapped bar of soap. It’s from Desert Ranch, the exclusive spa that Damien once treated me to. I see his mouth twitch with amusement, his smile growing wider as he pulls out the tiny Eiffel Tower, a miniature bottle with sand from our private beach, and a tiny pine cone from the house in Lake Arrowhead where we’d gone after his trial and recently spent Christmas.
I see the delight on his face as he inspects each item, but when he comes to the last, he laughs outright—the pair of silk panties I’d left in his limo that night we’d met at Evelyn’s.
“You’re a hard man to shop for,” I say. “So I took some of my souvenirs and made you a box of memories.”
“Nikki, it’s. . .” He trails off, his voice thick with emotion.