Page 86 of Brutal Heir
“Yes, I’m fine. I hope you don’t mind your picture beside the infamous Gemini heir sprawled across the tabloids.”
Her smirk falters for an instant before it carefully slides back into place. “I just hope they got my good side.”
I allow myself a minute to really take her in as she peels off her oversized coat, revealing a deep emerald dress that perfectly matches the brilliant shade of her eyes. It’s the kind that looks painted on, stretching across every enticing curve, by the famous designer Hervé Léger. As the son of a powerhouse in the fashion world, I know my stylists, and he’s one of my favorites. “There are only good sides from what I see.”
“Maybe that explosion damaged your vision, Rossi. You should get that looked into.”
Shaking my head, a rueful chuckle parts my lips. Once we’ve handed over our jackets to the coat check, I lead her through the back hallway toward the elevator. Tonight, I hope to remain anonymous. I planned on spending the evening observing from the privacy of my office.
After a quick ride to the top floor, Rory pauses at the balcony overlooking the dancefloor. The hypnotic beat thrums through my veins, vibrating across the walls. The air pulses in a rhythmic frenzy, sin and debauchery so potent it blankets the sprawling space. My thoughts instantly travel back to that heated dance and the almost-kiss. Is she thinking about it, too?
I move behind her, my hand aching to settle on the slope of her hip or hell, I’d even take the small of her back. I just need to touch her.Dio, that dress molds to every dangerous curve of her body, and I’m like an addict, desperate for my next fix.
My lips brush over the shell of her ear, and I’m not even certain when I got so close. There’s something about this place that brings me back to life, makes me feel invincible. “Are you thinking about that dance, Red?”
She shivers against me, her ass pressing into my lower half. “Of course not.” But the smile betrays her.
“You don’t have to spend the night stuck with me in my office.” I nuzzle her ear, unable to keep away. “Go dance, if you want,” I whisper, my voice thick with desire, hoping she’ll say no. Praying she’ll let me take her back to my office and rip that scandalous dress off her. “You’re off the clock anyway.”
I’m not sure if I add that last part more for myself or for her.
As if she feels the magic in the air, she leans into me, the back of her head falling against my shoulder. My arm curls around her, hand settling on the soft slope of her hip. When she doesn’t push me away, I run my nose down her neck, inhaling her heady scent.
“You’re dangerous, Rossi…” Her words are nothing more than a breathy pant.
“I want you, Rory. I need you so badly,” I murmur the confession against her warm skin. “I can’t stop thinking about your taste, or the tempting sounds you made when my tongue was buried deep inside that sweet pussy.”
Her breath hitches, and I’m certain she’s going to run. Instead, her body only melts further into mine. And I could have imagined it, but I swear her legs part just a little. So I slowly slide the hand on her hip down farther until I find her apex, my fingers brushing over the soft fabric covering her mound.
“Ale…” she breathes.
“Tell me to stop.” I drum my fingers over her clit, exerting just the right amount of pleasure.
When she doesn’t, I run my tongue down her neck, then slip my hand beneath the scandalous hem of her dress. Cupping her through silk panties, moisture seeps through to my palm.
A growl vibrates my chest at the feel of her drenched and ready for me.
Her breath hitches again, the pulse in her throat fluttering beneath my lips as I drag my mouth across her skin. I press her against the gilded railing, the thrum of bass from the dancefloor below vibrating through the soles of our shoes, through our bodies. But I’m only aware of her—her scent, her heat, the soft curve of her pussy beneath my palm.
“It wasn’t just because I was drunk,” I whisper against her skin as I lick my way down to her collarbone. “You’ve done something to me, Rory Delaney.” I say it slowly like the words might brand her if I say them just right. “I haven’t been able to sleep. Haven’t been able to think straight since that evening on the couch.”
She tries to smirk, but it falters when I trail my fingers across her center and anchor her against me. I tilt her chin up with a gentle touch, forcing her to look at me. Her lips part, and I can feel the war playing out behind those blazing green eyes.
“When I’m with you, I forget I’m broken,” I admit as I spin her around. “And that terrifies the hell out of me.”
Her arm curves around me, hand diving into the back pocket of my slacks. “You think you’re scared?” she whispers. “You’re not the only one with scars, Rossi. Some just aren’t on the outside.”
That does it. Those words snap the final tethers of my dwindling restraint.
My lips crash into hers, and she meets me with equal ferocity. Tongues clash, teeth scrape, and we’re devouring each other like we might not get another chance. The lights below flash, casting gold and violet shadows over her skin as I lift her onto the edge of the rail’s inner lip, caging her in. One slip of my hand, and the whole club could see everything. But I don’t give a damn. Let them look. Let them watch the king claim what’s his.
She moans into my mouth, and I swear I’ve never heard a more perfect sound.
“You sure this is a good idea?” she pants between kisses.
“Probably not,” I rasp, nipping at her bottom lip. “But I’ve never been good at doing the right thing.”
She grins wickedly. “Good. Because neither have I.”
