“You touch her again and I’ll break a few things. Keep your fucking hands to yourself.”
Without another word, Dante takes my hand and leads me toward the dance floor. I’m still shaking stupidly from my ordeal with creepy Anton, and when Dante pulls me close, another type of tremble runs along my spine.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, his mouth near my ear, his warm breath caressing my neck.
“I’m fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to talk to him—”
“It’s not your fault. Anton’s a dick, and if I’d suspected he’d make a play for you, I never would have left you alone. I’m sorry.”
I’m more than a little surprised by the apology, and it must show. He gives me a small, almost-sheepish smile, and then he pulls me closer. My hand is in his, and his arm is around my body, holding me tightly plastered up against his hard body. His fingers start playing up and down my spine, and it feels like I can barely breathe.
When I look up into his face, his eyes are on me, and the dark intensity of his gaze takes my breath away.
“What did he say to you?” he asks quietly.
“That he’d pay more if I left here with him tonight.”
“He’s a prick,” he mutters.
I don’t know what to say to that, so I content myself with swaying in his arms, with the shivers that go up my spine every time his fingertips trace a path from between my shoulder blades to just above my ass, though it feels as if his hand dips almost indecently low a few times.
“So. Construction, huh? Do you like it?” I ask, fighting to keep some sort of control and focus.
“Yeah. Most of the time, anyway,” he murmurs. “My father’s trying to groom me to take it over in the next year or two.”
“Trying? You seem to handle yourself pretty well,” I say and then blush as his eyes meet mine. “I mean…you’re very confident, and so many of those people you talked to earlier just kind of went on and on about how much they liked working with you in particular.” Great. Now I’m babbling. I’m about to say something else when his fingertips skate over the roundest part of my ass and, for just a moment, his hand lingers, gently gripping my behind, his fingertips so, so close to where I’m already throbbing for him. I gasp, and he slowly moves his hand back up to my back.
“My brother’s going to end up taking over. This is more his thing,” he says, as if I’m not about five seconds away from exploding.
“This isn’t your thing?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“My focus is a little different.”
I want to ask him what his focus is, but he leans in, just a little, his breath caressing my earlobe. “I’m shitty with compliments. I meant to tell you earlier how stunning you look tonight.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you. Every man in this room wants to be where I am right now.”
I give a nervous little laugh, and he pulls me even closer. “I kinda doubt that. There are some gorgeous women in this room.”
“Mm. There are some nice-looking women. None of them look like you, though. And I can tell you right now what’s going through these men’s heads, watching you here in that sexy dress, pressed up against me like this.”
“What?” I swear I can barely breathe.
“They’re all thinking what a lucky bastard I am, because I’m going home with you,” he murmurs in my ear, and there’s that little growl again. I try to press my thighs together, and at the movement, he maneuvers himself so his muscular thigh is there instead, pressing into me. I feel the insane, ridiculous urge to grind into him to get some relief, but I refuse to lose myself to this insanity. Unfortunately for me, he keeps talking. “They’re imagining what you’ll be like for me later, when it’s just the two of us. They’re imagining you naked, those gorgeous legs spread. They’re wondering if you scream when you come. Hoping you do, probably.”
“Stop,” I whisper.
“They’re thinking about the long, hot night I have ahead of me. Every guy in this room wishes he was me.”
“I think that has more to do with you being rich and powerful than it has to do with me,” I tell him with a laugh. I need to pull myself to
gether. Right at this moment, I’m just as curious as anyone to find out whether or not I scream when I come, and I wonder what it would feel like to have him buried deep inside me.
How did I get here? I’ve been saving myself for love, and now I’m willing to give everything to this smooth, commanding, cocky man who can make me wetter than I’ve ever been in my life with little more than a word or a look.
“I think we’re done here, Samantha,” he murmurs, and the way he says my name makes something twist deep inside me. The way he says it, my name is pure sex, and for just a moment I want to live up to the way his mouth forms the word.