she straightened up, aimed at Josh Cattrell, dancing with the girlfriend du jour. Laughing as he grabbed the girl’s ass. Moron.
She leaned over Sveti, murmured in Ukrainian into the girl’s ear. “He’s not worthy,” she said forcefully. “He’ll be no good to any woman for years yet. You’re ten times more intelligent, beautiful and strong than that heifer he’s groping, and in a few years, you’ll be more. If he’s grown up enough by then to be worth your time, fine. If not, men will be lined up, panting. On their knees. You’ll take your pick of them.”
Sveti tried to smile. On impulse, Tam kissed her cheek and smoothed the girl’s hair off her forehead. Then she backed away, startled by her own emotions.
Janos pulled her gently but insistently onto the dance floor. She relaxed into his arms, letting her head drop back to look up at the garish chandelier in the center of the ceiling. It seemed to spin like a galaxy, a vortex of light. It was delicious to let go, lie back, rely entirely on his strength. She reveled in the sensation, though she knew it was just a passing fantasy. But ah, what a fantasy. Sweet surrender—and way too much wine, no doubt.
It was criminally irresponsible of her to have gotten this tipsy with Rachel to protect after what had happened this morning, but the scolding thought had no sting. She was blissing out on the woodsy, cedary sweetness mixed with salt, rain, moss and summer sunshine that was Val Janos’s intoxicating scent. His shoulders were so broad, his arms so solid and thick. Those hard, sinewy muscles beneath her fingers made her want to explore every cut and dip and curve, every marvelous masculine detail. She wanted to drape herself across him. To stretch and preen, like a lioness on a sun-warmed rock.
She felt so relaxed. The closest she’d ever come to this feeling was after a grueling physical workout and a hot shower. But this was different, better. Magic. She floated in his arms, flushed with heat and color. Like a sunset-tinted cloud.
She wanted more than just a dance. Her body yearned, a sharp hunger she was usually too taut and compressed to let herself feel.
Remember who he is. What he wants. Remember Novak and Georg.
She thought about them deliberately, like pressing on a bruise. A desperate ploy to bring her back to her senses, but it didn’t take. She was in another place, far from that toxic wasteland. Tempted to give in to his silent invitation. To just use him like a big, beautiful sex toy. Why not? What difference would it make?
No. She wanted it too much. Anytime she wanted something this much, she set herself up for a catastrophe. Sex with Janos would be worse than stupid. It would be nothing less than suicidal.
And speaking of suicidal, look at this. They had swayed right out the ballroom door and into the hall outside. She hadn’t even noticed being piloted through the room. She twisted in his arms as he hustled her through the lobby, past the curious stares of other guests.
“Hey!” she whispered fiercely. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Someplace private,” he said. “To finish this.”
She felt inhibited from trying flashy kung fu moves in public, hoping as she was to keep this thing under the radar. “Finish what?”
He shot her a look that made her feel both foolish for playing dumb and angry at his presumption.
“I agreed to dance with you, Janos. Not fuck you,” she said tartly.
“Then we will dance. In private.” He swung her around and into a deserted corridor.
She grabbed his wrist, wrenched it down to torque his tendons into screaming agony and drop him to the ground. He flowed like water through her hands, anticipating her every move, and flipped her effortlessly around. She fetched up hard against the wall.
He held her there with his big body. Her feet dangled off the ground. His lips were close to hers; they almost touched. Every molecule in her body vibrated at the contact, generating a wild energy that lit her up like a torch. And she liked it. Goddamn him.
She wrenched her mind into line. “What is it with you, Janos? Was getting tased not enough for you?”
He grinned. “By no means. I find challenge…electrifying.”
She groaned. “Spare me your razor wit. You’re a slow learner.”
“No.” He nuzzled her ear, his hot breath tickling her. “But I am a good listener. I hear all of the things that you are afraid to say.”
“Nothing is more pathetic than a man who projects his gutter fantasies onto women that he lusts after,” she snapped.
He laughed. “Gutter fantasies? Is that all sex is to you?”
She writhed in his hard grip. Friction just sweetened the pulsing glow at every point of contact to an unbearable pitch.
“I’ll tell you what sex is,” she said shakily. “Sex is just a unit of economic exchange. Or else it’s a dirty power game.”
A small frown creased his brow. “That is all?”
“That is all,” she said. “No one has ever convinced me otherwise.”
His dark eyes were thoughtful. He broke eye contact, and kissed her bare shoulder, his tender lips moving slowly up her shivering neck.
“I am sorry for you,” he said quietly.
She was stung. “Don’t be. I’m fine with it since I learned to stop being the victim. I can outplay anyone at that game.” Except for you, you sneaky bastard.
“I do not doubt it.” He cupped her ass, holding her up as he pressed hot kisses to the skin between her breasts. The caress made her nipples tighten, and he rubbed his face voluptuously against her breasts. “Your looks and your body alone guarantee it.”
She let out a sharp laugh. “Hah. My looks and body were what got me into trouble in the first place.”
She was horrified with herself for saying it. It sounded almost like a whining plea for pity or sympathy. But when he lifted his face, there was no contempt in his eyes. Just a desire that made her breathless.
“Please,” he whispered. “Let me prove you wrong.”
Her feet touched the ground. He slid his hand up over her hips, her belly, his thumbs flicking tenderly over her nipples. Her sensitized body responded, just as she realized that he had released her hands.
She had not even noticed. She’d been too busy shivering and sighing. This was terrible. So far outside her conscious control, it was like going mad. Her reality shaking loose, breaking down.
But she couldn’t give in. She would go down kicking and scratching and shrieking, goddamnit.
She sucked in a breath, gritted her teeth, and fended it off. “Don’t feed me your slick gigolo lines, Janos. They won’t work on me.”
“No?” His hand slid down over her ass, cupping the undercurve with a tender brush of his hand. “Why not?”
“I’m not interested in playing that game with you.”
“Are you not?” His hand slid down, then up beneath
