Sinful Desire (Sinful Nights, #2)(9)
Chapter Four
As the slinky, silky Vegas nightclub singer belted out a bluesy number from the stage, the lights in the ballroom dimmed. They turned the bright, silent auction that Ryan had caught the tail end of into a sultry, nighttime affair. The chandeliers flickered, and violet lights shone on the dance floor. Men in tuxes and women in evening dresses moved and swayed; the event reeked of old money and new money, mingling together. This was the cocktail mix of the Vegas built on the bedrock of Rat Pack era casinos, stirred up with the cool swagger of the sleek, skyscraper crowds of today.
Ryan led Sophie to the dance floor, threading their way through the glitz and glam of the dolled-up and dressed-up. She kept her eyes on him as he dropped a hand on her elbow, leaving his palm on her back.
Her skin was so soft. So bare. So fantastically naked in this backless dress as he pulled her near and they began to dance.
“So you made it,” she said.
“I would have been here sooner, but I had to walk my dog.”
She burst out in surprised laughter. “Really?”
“You don’t believe me?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe it. It just came out sounding like an excuse,” she said as they swayed in time to the jazzy number from the red-sequined woman on stage.
“He’s a very demanding dog. Have you ever met a Border Collie mix? They can be quite needy. And I like to make sure he’s happy.”
“How good of you to think of him.”
“I was thinking of you, too,” he said, his eyes fixed on her as he spoke. “I couldn’t get you off my mind.”
“Is that so?” she asked, but her smile made it seem less like a question. “I figured I’d read you wrong.”
“You didn’t expect me to show up?” He spread his fingers across the bare skin of her back. Goose bumps rose on her flesh.
“One never knows if a man has it in him to respond to an invitation on the street,” she said coyly.
His spine straightened, and he stood even taller. “When a woman like you tells a man she wants him, that man should do everything in his power to show up.”
She moved closer, her sky-blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “I don’t believe I said I wanted you,” she whispered.
He bent his head to her ear, catching the faint scent of her perfume. Something vaguely tropical. Something that suggested hot summer nights. He wanted to run his nose along her skin and inhale her. A groan worked its way up his chest. “You didn’t have to say it,” he said.
She shot him a sharp stare, but she didn’t let go of him. “My, my. Aren’t we a little over-confident?”
“Am I?” he asked, letting go to spin her in a circle then tugging her back as the music rose to a crescendo.
“Perhaps I just wanted to make sure the ballroom was full,” she said, gesturing to the crowd. “Maybe that’s why I invited you.”
“Is that what you wanted? One more attendee at your event?”
She swallowed and parted her lips. “Maybe I want other things.”
She pressed her hand against his shoulder, and the pressure from that slight touch sent electricity flying through him. He stopped swaying and dipped her, holding her in that pose, her back bent in an arc, her body draped over his arm, trusting him. “Tell me, Sophie. What other things do you want?”
He watched her like that as he waited for her answer. Her eyes never wavered from his. There was no shyness in her gaze, no nerves evident in her expression. Only confidence, which was so damn alluring. She licked her lips then answered, “A man who can figure those things out.”
Oh, hell yeah. This woman turned him on fiercely. She was direct and naughty at the same time. He raised her up. Her full breasts were flush with his chest, and he was sure he could spend hours worshipping them. Or biting them. Or f*cking them. “I can figure out all those things you want. I can deliver all of them, too. But right now? Here on the dance floor? I presume this is when you need me to role play at being a perfect gentleman,” he said, casting his gaze briefly at the crowds dancing alongside them.
“So you wouldn’t be a gentleman if we weren’t in front of all these people?”
“I would absolutely not be a gentleman at all,” he said, letting his hand travel along her back. “But for the moment, you have your donors here to entertain.”
She raised her chin and looked at him studiously. “You did your homework, Mister—” Then she laughed and cut herself off, placing a finger over his lips. “Don’t tell me your name. I prefer to think of you as the Man with the Green Tie. So we can pretend we hardly know each other. We can be strangers.”
“Strangers can make the best lovers.”
“Are you? A good lover?”
“I don’t really think you want me to answer that question.”
“Why on earth wouldn’t I want the answer to that?” she asked, toying with his tie, her voice a purr that lit up his organs, setting every last part of him on fire.
He shook his head. Pressed his lips near her ear. Whispered. “I think you’d rather I show you.”
She gasped, an enticing sound that ignited him. His body was strung tight, like a snare drum. He was torn between wanting to pounce on her now, and drawing out the anticipation. Making her want him. Making her beg. He was willing to bet she was a marvelous beggar, that she could get on her knees and say please in a voice that snapped all his restraint.