Page 9 of Desire

Chapter Three

EMMA

Emma sipped a gin and tonic while leaning against the bar and looking out at the party. Couture’s Halloween party was going off without a hitch. The biggest complaint Emma had gotten was that there hadn’t been enough time in between the announcement and the event to create the perfect costume.

“There’s always next year,” Emma had responded cheerfully.

She could understand the criticism, because there hadn’t been a spare sewing machine to be had leading up to the party. Together with Tee and Colleen, however, they had made sure there had been plenty of material and sewing notions to go around. There had been a few all-nighters pulled where models were hand stitching in the corridors throughout Couture. And mini sewing parties popped up everywhere.

Emma was already seeing sketches for next year’s costume ideas. Colleen and Anya were considering incorporating some of the designs into a new clothing line featuring fairy-tale fantasies. Personally, Emma thought some of the designs she saw were pushing more toward the Club Inferno side than Couture, but sometimes those lines blurred a little bit. Fashion sometimes was kinky too.

She felt a thrill of satisfaction at a job well done and then she felt a thrill of something else when Dante strode across the dance floor toward her. He was the personification of the Big Bad Wolf. Shirtless beneath a fur vest that did little to conceal the chiseled planes of his chest or the strength coiled in his shoulders, Dante smiled at her and she saw a glimpse of fang.

The better to eat you with, my dear, a little voice in her head whispered.

The sight of him, all primal dominance and simmering sex appeal, sent an electric surge of desire skittering down Emma’s spine. With each step he took, her pulse quickened, anticipation curling within her like smoke. His tight pants clung to his powerful thighs, hinting at the raw physicality beneath, and the dark ink snaking over his muscled arms whispered of untold stories and nights of unbridled passion.

“Something wicked this way comes,” she murmured, half to herself.

It was as if he heard her words because he locked in on her with an intense stare. Emma cleared her throat to steady herself, the sound lost amidst the hum of conversation and clinking glasses.

“Please tell me that isn’t real fur,” Emma said when he had closed the distance between them.

“Do you want to touch it and see?” Dante said, leaning in close to her. But he was only signaling the bartender for a drink. She was nearly scorched by the heat of his body and the answering flush of her own. Not knowing where she got the courage—maybe it was from the gin and tonic—she stroked her hand up the soft material.

“How many baby bunnies died to give you this vest?” She had to force a lightness in her voice that she didn’t feel.

“It’s not real. You don’t have to worry your soft heart over my fashion choices.”

Emma wished he would sling his arm around her and hold her close and hug her. The last time he had hugged her was when she had fallen off her bike and bent the rim. She hadn’t cared that her knees had been busted up or that she might’ve fractured her elbow. Her bike, her beloved bike, had been trashed. And there hadn’t been any extra money to fix it.

After he had held her until she stopped crying, Dante had brought her to his house. His parents weren’t home, but that was par for the course. He had bandaged up her knees and was kind when she cried when the iodine stung. Then he had made her a milkshake and they had watched cartoons together until she felt strong enough to have him walk her home.

Emma had been ten and he had been fifteen. She had fallen in love with him that day. But she wasn’t a ten-year-old girl anymore. And now their age difference of twenty-four and twenty-nine didn’t seem like such a big gap.

Dante, unfortunately, stepped away from her when he got his seven and seven from the bartender, but he still leaned on the bar and looked down at her in amusement.

“The candy bowls were a great touch,” he said. “I’m surprised that they were so popular.”

“The fun size makes it easier to indulge,” Emma said.

“Or overindulge. I think I ate my weight in Almond Joys.”

Emma hid a smile. They had always been his favorite. And she’d stocked a whole bowl, just for him.

“Everyone seems to be having a good time,” he said. “You put on an impressive party. I can’t wait to see what you do at the Club Inferno one next week.”

“That’s Tee’s responsibility,” Emma said, suddenly shy.

“Yes, but if I know you, you have some great ideas for it.”

“You caught me,” she said. Maybe it was best if he thought that she was only going to be planning the party instead of being there. She couldn’t resist petting the vest one more time. Maybe this time next week, she could be petting what was under the vest.

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