Page 36 of Release Me
My eyes land on Rebekka again. She’s already finished the glass of champagne Avery handed to her mere moments before. I stare at her for a long beat. Her eyes meet mine. Apprehension duels with an unmistakable heat. How her husband hasn’t noticed the chemistry between us is beyond me. ‘Only if you want, of course,’ I add as an afterthought.
Her focus falls on my upturned, awaiting palm. ‘I want to,’ she says slowly, then places her small hand in mine. The second our skin meets, that hot, crackling energy surges between us, up my arm and straight over my spine.
I lead her through the press of bodies towards the centre of the room. The air seems to thin with every step. The music, laughter and clink of crystal blurs into a low hum; the only sound I’m aware of is the thunderous hammering of my heart.
I’m playing with fire, and I don’t give a fuck if I get burnt.
Just as we reach the edge of the dancefloor, the quartet on the mezzanine stills. A beat of silence hovers. I hold Rebekka’s eye as we both wait for the next song. Then, the opening notes of something slow and sin-rich float down from the strings. The tempo shifts from jaunty carols to a slow waltz, soft and unhurried.
Rebekka’s gaze widens like the universe itself has conspired to force us into each other’s arms. Maybe it has. I, for one, am not complaining. Who knows when I’ll get to see her again, let alone get the chance to touch her. Around us, couples pair off. Laughter settles into quiet smiles. I slide an arm around her waist.
Her breath catches.
Mine does too.
My hands glide over her dress, resting on the curve of her hip beneath.
For one suspended moment, it’s only us and the music—and the dangerous knowledge that if a single spark shows between us, it’ll burn down both our worlds.
Chapter Fifteen
REBEKKA
My hands settle on his tapered waist as we glide around the dancefloor. My body begs me to slide those palms lower. To cup the hard globes of his ass cheeks and squeeze them until his pelvis is pressing into mine.
I don’t of course.
I don’t have a death wish.
But the way my husband is glaring at me makes me question myself.
Fuck him.
It’s okay for him to swan around Paris with his latest fucking fling, and I can’t even have a civilised dance. You’d swear the way Anthony was looking at me I was naked and humping his best friend in front of everyone. If only…
I block him out and concentrate on the man in front of me. The one who lives in my head rent-free all day and all damn fucking night—especiallyat night.
‘So, Baby Beckett,’ I tease, determined to lighten the atmosphere between us.
‘Don’t call me that,’ he growls, his dark eyes burning into mine. ‘I would only love the excuse to prove myself to you.’
My breath hitches. ‘The feeling is mutual,’ I murmur, my mind wondering back to that wild, frantic, life affirming fucking kiss. ‘Which is why we agreed to stay away from each other.’
‘It’s so fucking hard,’ he whispers.
‘What is?’ I wink at him. It’s easier to joke about our situation than face the cold harsh truth.
‘That too,’ he purrs, pushing his body closer to mine until there is absolutely no questioning his size.
‘You fight dirty,’ I whisper.
‘Oh, you have no idea of all the ways I’d fight dirty with you if I got the chance, Rebekka.’ He sways his hips in time to the music, conveniently grinding against me in the process.
I hiss. Lust courses through my stomach. Up over my breasts. Between my legs. Goosebumps ripple over my skin and scatter over my spine. ‘If only.’ There’s no point in even trying to deny the attraction between us. Not when we’ve already admitted it to each other. Not when we shared the most mind-blowing kiss of my life. Not when his dick is pressing against my stomach in a room full of people—including my husband.
‘I have no right to say this to you.’ I swallow thickly. ‘No right at all, but if I don’t, it’ll eat me alive.’
He tilts my chin up to meet his eyes again. ‘We’re so beyond what’s right, you can say whatever the fuck you like to me. I think you know how I feel about you by now.’
