Bang (Black Lotus #1)(47)

Abruptly, he pulls away, keeping his powerful hand around my neck as he takes a step back. He stares; he doesn’t speak, he just stares, examining my reaction. But my reaction is calculated, pulled straight from my playbook.

Quaking, aroused breaths.

Making the rise and fall of my chest visible to him.

Letting out an erotic but nervous hum.

Relaxing my muscles and sinking into the hold he has on me.

“Say it,” he demands.

I shake my head, denying his request, and when I do, the tips of his fingers increase the pressure around my neck.

“Tell me how you feel,” he urges.

I quicken my breathing and am able to push the deceit out in the form of a tear. Slowly spilling over, I feel the wetness linger down my cheek, but before it drips off my jaw, Declan’s tongue licks it away. The tender touch surprises me, and when I drop my head, he finally releases his hold on me and cradles my face, tilting it up to look at him.

His eyes soften, and I give him the words I know he wants, saying quietly, “I don’t know what the word is for what I feel for you, but I feel it.”

“Do you want it?”

With slight mock-hesitation, it’s game on when I respond, “Yes.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, and this time, he’s gentle when he moves me to kiss him. His lips are soft as they press into mine, but he keeps it short, and then says, “Come to the hotel after you’re done here.”

“Okay,” I answer without any question, and then he’s gone, walking away from me. I take a moment to compose myself before returning to the table, and when I walk back out into the restaurant, I do a quick glance and notice that Declan has already left.

“And where were you?” Marcia asks with gossipy intent.

“Restroom.”

“With?” she presses.

Narrowing my eyes, I tell her, “You’re insinuations are vastly inappropriate and offensive. If you’re wanting dirty gossip, you’re going to have to find it elsewhere.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything,” she says, back-stepping.

I pick up the menu, mind still on Declan, while Jacqueline and Marcia fall back into whatever conversation they were having before I returned. We spend the rest of our lunch in idle chitchat, and then Jacqueline goes on her usual rants about our other so-called friends. I sit, playing along, nodding my head to feign my interest in what’s being said.

After the bill is paid, we exchange cheek kisses before leaving. Baldwin is parked out front, waiting on me, and when he opens the car door, he asks, “Good lunch?”

“Lovely,” I respond sarcastically, and when he gets into the front seat, he looks at me through the rearview mirror with a pondering look that I have to smile at and then admit, “Okay, maybe lovely isn’t the right word.”

He laughs and pulls out into traffic.

“I need to stop by Lotus before we go home. Seems my signature is needed on a few invoices and I want to see that the room is set up properly.”

“Of course.”

Pulling up to the hotel, I get out of the car and walk in, heading straight back to Declan’s office. He sits behind his desk, and when I step in, he stands up, saying, “Close the door.”

I do.

He strides right up to me, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me, never breaking his fluid movements. Slipping my arms around him, I kiss him back. Excitement rushes through me, or maybe it’s the adrenaline of finally knowing this is happening. The plan that Pike and I set out to accomplish over four years ago. All this time, and finally, it’s happening. I want to throw myself at Declan, but I have to be smart, remember the game, and not lose focus of what I need to do. So I control the endorphins and pull away.

“What is it?” he questions.

“I’m just . . .”

“Just what?”

Taking a moment, I respond, “Scared.”

“Of me?”

I shake my head with his hands still on my face, holding me.

“Of this?”

“Yes.” With a drop of my head, I lay my forehead against his chest, adding, “I’m married. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’re married, yes. But are you happy?”

Looking up into his eyes, I say, “I’m not sure what I am. All I know is that this feels good. You feel good.”

The intensity in his eyes reveals the pleasure he’s taking in my candid words, and I take advantage when I slip my hand around the back of his neck and pull his lips down to mine, showing him that it’s him I want—because truth be told, he is what I want, what I need.

“Come see me,” he says when we break our connection.

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“I can’t. I have a dinner,” I tell him.

“I want you to come see me.”

Taking a step back, out of his hold, I hesitate, saying, “I don’t know.”

His jaw twitches in what I can assume is frustration or anger. “Don’t waver, Nina.”

“That’s so easy for you to say, isn’t it?” I nearly snap. “Because you’re not the one who is about to fall into a situation that will turn you into a person who acts in Machiavellian schemes. I am.”