Claim Me(81)

When he looks in my direction, I see in his eyes that what he wants right now is me.

His smile is as potent a greeting as any kiss could ever be. It is like something inside me has come undone and I rush to him, then throw myself in his outstretched arms. He pulls me close, and the last wisps of jealousy disintegrate under the touch of this man.

When I’ve had my fill of him—though, really, I can never have my fill of him—I ease back and smile. “Missed you.”

“Missed you more.”

“Is everything okay?”

He eyes me oddly. “Of course. Why?”

“I saw you just now. On the phone, I mean.”

For a moment, the irritation is back. “It’s nothing,” he says. “Something I thought was under control has turned out to be more volatile than I expected. Nothing to worry about, though.” He tilts my chin up and gazes into my eyes for so long that I feel as though I am going to fall in. Then he smiles, so slowly and sweetly that I cannot help but sigh. “You look beautiful,” he says, after we’ve stood like that, lost in each other, for what feels like a lifetime.

“Thank you for the dress.” I do a small turn to show it off. “And for the bed.” I’m looking right at him as I speak, so there is no missing the shadow that crosses his face. “Damien? What is it?”

He hesitates, and I see the ghost of a frown before it fades into a smile. “I’m just very pleased you like them.”

“Of course I do.” Worried, I look in his eyes, the dark one seeming to draw me in and the amber one bathing me in a warm, loving glow. Whatever hesitation I thought I’d seen has faded, but I am not soothed. There are things he wants to say to me, and yet he is not saying them. I start to press, but hold back. Now is not the time.

“We should join the party,” I say.

“In a minute.” He pulls me closer to him, so that my breasts are pressed against his chest and my chin is tucked onto his shoulder. I breathe deeply, memorizing the scent of him, all musk and masculine spices.

“How is it that I can miss you so much when you’re not beside me?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “But I could ask the same question.”

“Oh, Nikki.” The last sound of my name is cut off as his mouth closes roughly over mine.

My body melts against him, and I feel myself opening up. I want him. I want him now. Here. On the goddamn stove if we have to, but I want to know that this man is mine. I want to claim him. I want to f*ck him.

And I’m frustrated as hell because none of that is going to happen. Not now, with our friends on the other side of this wall, just a few feet away.

Reluctantly, I break the kiss, then extend my hand to him.

“Are we observing formalities, Ms. Fairchild?”

“We are, Mr. Stark.”

He laughs, then presses a soft kiss to my palm that makes my thighs tremble and my nipples tighten almost painfully.

Damien eyes me, a smug smile on his beautiful face. “Me, too, Ms. Fairchild.”

I aim a prim smile at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But I will say that you look dashing as usual.” I nod toward the next room. “Shall we mingle?”

We leave the kitchen and join the other three, who have moved to the balcony. Evelyn is entertaining Jamie with stories about her television and movie deals back in the day, and Blaine presents a mock frown of frustration as Damien and I approach. “We’ve lost them,” he says. “Once she starts talking Hollywood, she never stops. And I think she’s found the perfect audience.”