Beneath These Lies (Beneath, #5)(60)

He stepped forward, wrapping her long hair around his fist and grasping the back of her head. His lips found her neck, her chin, her ear . . . much like Rix had in the SUV on the way here. The man was ravenous.

The woman arched back, grasping a handful of his shirt. The man didn’t stop for long moments, and when he did, it was to tear his shirt off and spin her around. Pinning her to the bed, he shackled both wrists above her head and kissed her again. Every move was more erotic than the last.

When he released his hands, she pushed at his chest, and he bounded up from the bed. She rose and pushed him backward until his knees hit the other bed and he sat. She climbed on his lap and with a snap of her wrist, the skirt of her outfit fell away, leaving bright red cheeky panties with a black bow on the back. This time it was her turn, pressing him down, pinning him, and taking what she wanted.

Both of his hands wrapped around her ass and squeezed, bringing her closer until she was directly above his face. He tore her panties in half, revealing a tiny red thong. She moaned, riding his face, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking back at Rix again.

His eyes were trailing down my body to where my nipples were puckered and pressed hard against the silk of my blouse.

He must have felt my stare because his gaze cut to mine, and in that moment I wanted him to unbutton my blouse and touch me. I wanted him to tear my clothes off the way the couple were onstage. I wanted him in a frenzy for me where what he wanted most in this world was me.

But that couldn’t happen here. Yes, the booth was semi-private and I was wearing a mask, but still . . . I just couldn’t. I might be finding my inner vixen, as evidenced by the slickness gathering between my legs at watching this show with Rix at my side, but sex in a semi-public place was pushing my limits too far.

Wasn’t it?

His gaze was on me, but now the fire was banked and concern was visible.

Crap. Me and my overactive brain were killing the moment. I looked back to the stage, the woman straddled the man, lower now, so she could tear at his belt with her teeth.

I wanted to be the aggressor for once. The instigator. But I wasn’t sure if I could do that here.

I leaned close to Rix’s ear. “I need to use the ladies’.”

He narrowed his eyes on me, but slid out of the booth so I could pass. “You okay?”

I nodded. It was a lie. I wasn’t okay, but I would be.

Walking toward the back of the room, I found a server, and he directed me to the ladies’ room.

Instead of going inside, I walked past it, looking for another door. There had to be something. I pushed open a door marked PRIVATE.

Bingo.

It was a storage room of some kind. Flipping on the light revealed stacks of chairs, a few tables, and shelves of linens. There was no lock on the door, but I was turning over a new leaf. Pulling my phone from my clutch, I slowed when I saw my reflection in its glass screen. My mask hid the nerves, anticipation, daring, arousal, and a hundred other emotions rioting, but at least if we got caught, it would hide my identity.

Was that why I was being so daring tonight?

No, I decided. It wasn’t the mask that had freed me from my inhibitions and given me this plan. It was Rix.

I swiped my screen and punched in my passcode incorrectly. Three times. Get it together, Valentina.

Finally unlocking my phone, I clicked open a text to Rix.

VALENTINA: Need you.

It was the truth. I did need him. Now.

His response was instant.

RIX: On my way.

I waited thirty seconds before I pulled open the door a crack. Rix was striding toward the ladies’ room, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone. Concern marked his expression.

He slowed near the ladies’ room. It was time.

“Over here.”

Brows furrowed, he jerked his head in the direction of my voice and strode toward the door.

“What—”

I pulled the door open the rest of the way and grabbed the soft wool of his suit coat to yank him inside.

“What the—”

Shutting the door with a click, I flipped off the lights and pushed him toward an empty wall.

“Shhh. You don’t want anyone to catch us, do you?”

I wished I could see his face, but I worried the light would draw attention to us, and there was nothing in the world I wanted interrupting exactly what I was doing right now. Which was shoving the jacket off his shoulders, tossing it on the table to our left, and threading my fingers through his. I lifted both of his hands up over his shoulders and pressed them against the wall. He didn’t fight me.

“My duchess is feeling naughty tonight,” he whispered to the dark room.

“Maybe just a little.” I caught his bottom lip between my teeth and tugged before flicking and soothing it with my tongue. My mouth closed over his, my tongue sliding inside. I loved his taste, his scent, everything about this man.

I just love him.

The realization struck me and I released his hands, wanting to touch more of him, wanting this scene to play out like it had in my head. A fantasy I never knew I had until I’d watched the show onstage tonight.

“I want you,” I told him as I reached for his belt buckle and slipped the belt free.

“I always f*cking want you.”

“Right now. Right here.”

He lowered his hands to glide down my sides and he squeezed my hips. “Thank God.”