Entice Me (Stark Trilogy #3.11)(9)

“It really is,” Jamie agrees.

“So I just have to get all the guests there, keep everyone quiet, don’t let Damien have a clue, and then actually surprise him.”

“Pretty much,” Cass agrees.

“It’s so deviously simple. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself.”

“I’m all about the devious,” Cass says, pretending to buff her nails.

“Double-blind.” I let the words roll softly off my tongue as I look around the patio at my friends. Then I grin and raise my mimosa in a toast. “Ladies, I think we have a plan.”

“Well, yeah,” Siobhan says. “But you still need to come up with the reason.”





Chapter Four


I’m still trying to craft a fake reason for a trip to Santa Barbara when Damien calls for Edward to drive all of us home. We’re not drunk, but the mimosas and Bloody Marys definitely flowed, and it seems the prudent thing to do.

While we wait for him to arrive with the limo, Damien and I help put the kids down. First Jeffery, who listens with big eyes while Damien reads Goodnight, Moon, and then Ronnie, who insists on reading a Dr. Seuss book to me.

When she’s quiet in bed with Bun-bun, I pad out into the hall to join Damien, Sylvia, and Jackson.

“You’ve got a knack,” Sylvia says, with a hint of a tease in her voice.

“And a great deal,” I point out. “As a card carrying member of the Favorite Aunt Society, I don’t have to discipline, I get to spoil them rotten with toys, and I can fill them up on junk food with impunity. What’s not to love?”

Sylvia laughs, and I glance at Damien. He’s smiling, but there’s also a wistful look on his face that makes my heart squeeze a little. He sees me watching him, and reaches for my hand.

I take it, lacing my fingers with his.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

What I hear is, “I love you.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Let’s go.”

By the time we all get our things gathered, Edward’s waiting in front of the house. He drops off Cass and Siobhan in Venice Beach first, then heads to Studio City to drop Jamie and Ryan.

“Be good,” Jamie trills as they get out of the limo. “Of course, we don’t intend to be.” She waggles her brows and laughs as Edward shuts the door.

“You heard the lady,” Damien says, pulling me close to him.

I lay down on the seat with my head in his lap. “You know me. I’m a big fan of alone time in limousines. But it’s a short ride to the Tower—and right now, I’m very, very comfortable.”

I open my eyes to study his face, looking down at me with a definite spark. I laugh. “A day in the sun with kids. I’m exhausted. Aren’t you exhausted?”

His smile blooms slowly—and very sensually. “Just how exhausted are you?”

A warm current wafts through me. “I could be revived,” I admit. “If I was made a good offer.”

“So we’re negotiating. Excellent. I’m sure I have something you want.” His hand closes gently over my breast, and I arch up, gasping from the impact of a sudden, hard flash of desire.

“Damien.”

His brow rises infinitesimally. “See? I’m confident we’ll be able to come to a mutually satisfactory agreement.”

His thumb grazes my lower lip, and I close my eyes, drawing it in, reveling in the sound of pleasure he makes low in his throat and the erection I feel growing where the back of my head is in his lap.

“I could just roll over,” I say, doing exactly that, so that my ear is on his thigh and I’m facing the button on his jeans.

I lift my hand and press lightly over the length of his erection straining against the denim right in front of me. “Think how much faster the rest of the drive would be.”

“Nikki.” There’s a tightness in his voice. Almost a warning. But I don’t heed it. Frankly, I don’t think he wants me to. Slowly, I stroke my hand up the length of him, a wild knot of heated need growing inside me, spreading wilder and faster as I feel him harden beneath my hand. As I hear the shift in his breathing. The catch in his throat when my hand reaches the base of his cock and then rises to the button of his jeans.

“Christ.”

That’s all he says, and I turn my head just enough so that I can see the desire in his eyes. A wild lust. A wanton need that matches my own. There’s never a moment when I don’t crave this man, but right now—after a day in the sun with the alcohol still warming my blood—I think that I will die if I can’t touch him. Can’t taste him.

And with every second that passes—with every tiny shift in his posture, every shortened breath, every tightening of his muscles as he fights for control—I know that I am winning. And that rush of power that courses through me is as potent as wine and as powerful as the most magical aphrodisiac.

It takes some doing, but I manage the button with one hand. The zipper is trickier, and I try to hurry because Damien has lifted his hand, and I’m afraid that if I don’t manage, Damien will do it himself, and this is something that I want. Wholly and completely.

But it’s not his fly that Damien is reaching for, it’s my leg. And as I lower his zipper, his hand slides slowly up my leg, slipping under the hem of my skirt so his palm rubs my bare skin.