Page 15 of Lust
I’ve been waiting for you, Mr. Marcolf.
The valet had scarcely grabbed the keys to my Aston Martin when a herd of women arrived to do their bidding. They followed me inside the grand ballroom, uncaring about their shameless gawking.
Why wouldn’t they stare?
Four thousand dollar tux.
Ferragamo shoes.
Panty-melting smile and a thick head of inky black hair to go with it.
What’s there not to love about me?
But I suspected the real reason women flocked to my side was to bear witness to the amber-gold eyes. The rarity in color preceded my reputation.
Unfortunately, my amber-golds were in the mood to wander, searching for Sara’s silhouette. Sara and I always shared the first dance whenever Mary organized an event. But I couldn’t get out of my meeting any sooner, and the event was already in full swing.
Guess there was no first dance tonight. Damnit.
I used to hate being dragged to the dance floor but relented whenever Sara would grab my hand and force me into it. Now, I looked forward to holding Sara for those two minutes and thirty seconds without her purposefully stepping on my feet or doing something equally silly to annoy me.
My drifting eyes finally tracked her down next to the bar area. The crowd parted like the red sea, leaving her in my centerfold.
Sara was fortunate in having extracted the best features from both sets of her parents. Crystal eyes from her dad. Caramel complexion and high cheekbones from her biological mom.
My gaze wafted to her soft waves, framing her heart-shaped face. It was the first time she had relaxed her hair in years, pairing her appearance with a feminine dress that hugged her curves. Inadvertently, my eyes drooped to the slight cleavage she sported. The attire wasn’t conservative, nor was it racy.
It was sexy, andI couldn’t look away for the life of me.
Fuck, I needed to look away before someone caught me ogling my sister. There were too many eyes here tonight. What would they think if they knew of my lecherous thoughts?
Tristan Marcolf, son of the legendary politician Davis Marcolf, wanted to fuck his little sister’s brains out.
If they knew of the things I wanted to do to Sara, I’d be one more worthless DC politician.Thiswould become my only legacy.
I wish I could have ascertained that as being my biggest concern.
Men were stealing glances at Sara. Damn infuriating glances. I wanted to rip their eyes out of their sockets because none of them deserved to see her.
Disconcertingly, Sara didn’t know to thwart their advances, so I had always been forced to keep an eye on her. And within minutes, my concerns were proven correct. A man came up to her with a drink in hand, but I couldn’t see his face from this angle.
Lilith found me before I could nip it in the bud. It wasn’t until she dragged me to the dance floor did I recognize the man with Sara. It was that police officer from earlier.
How the hell did the fucker track her down?
A low grumble almost tumbled out of my mouth at the memory of them staring at one another. I had barely managed to drive Sara back without shaking her silly and instead asked her to stay away from cops.
Clearly, she chose not to listen.
Closing my eyes, I counted down from ten. When I opened my eyes again, the sight was no better.
He was drinking her up like she was the only thing that might quench his thirst. And what was she thinking dancing with him so obscenely?
My knuckles whitened with a death grip fist upon noticing his hand resting a little too low on Sara’s back. I chanted a mantra in my head that it was only a dance. Nothing more.
The mantra didn’t help. But before I could advance toward that man with a death wish, they split. My attempt to do a sweep for them was smothered by a swarm of lobbyists and women adamant about having a word.
Even if I could ditch the lobbyists, it wouldn’t be wise to step away. That sister of mine pushed my buttons, and I couldn’t afford to make a scene. Not here. I was a congressman for this very state. If I were involved in a brawl, I could say goodbye to my political career.
