shuffled to a standstill. Her first instinct was to pull away without speaking to him. She was halfway there when he dropped his hands from her hips and moved just outside her personal space, dancing.
Damn. Now she’d have to make nice with small talk.
The dance floor was packed with bodies. The music so loud that a cursory how’s it going and some rudimentary sign language was sufficient communication to tick the social-etiquette-for-an-ex-lover box.
She glanced around, her feet moving to the music with less enthusiasm, but her chest lighter when she spotted her sister and the group of girls nearby.
Subtly sidling closer to the girls, Harley practically swayed into her sister. Phil followed, joining their group with a nod to Hannah and immediately engaged one of her friends with his oily smile and whispered banter. If he’d hoped to prick her jealousy, he clearly didn’t pay enough attention. Aside from polite dance-floor camaraderie born of an innate civility, her interest in her ex ended there.
What had she ever seen in Phil? She’d been young. Too young. Barely nineteen when they’d first met. She’d been dazzled for all of five minutes—Phil’s ambition and drive an attraction until she’d realised it was all he cared about and couldn’t tolerate anything less in others, especially her. As their relationship had continued, he’d seen her independence from the family business as a hobby, a lack of direction. When he’d told her, during a recurring argument, she was stupid to renounce her place in the family business, a cash-cow future mapped out before her and that Hal agreed with him, she’d finally broken free of her inertia and called things off.
She glanced at him again, recalling their lacklustre intimacies. Nope. Nothing. Not even a flicker of her pulse.
As the track ended she tilted her chin at Hannah, indicating her departure from the dance floor. She’d chug a bottle of water, use the restroom and then find Hannah, let her know she was heading home. Phil’s presence had put an end to the promise of the evening, not because she had feelings for him, but because the glaring contrast between him and Jack had plunged her once more into the pit of doubt she’d come here to forget.
She shook off the emotion—it was the sex. It had to be the sex.
Perhaps that was why she hadn’t confronted Jack already. Stalling the inevitable? Was she really too scared to risk what she’d found in Jack’s bed?
She rounded the corner on the way back to their booth.
Jack blocked her path.
The air whooshed out of her lungs as she almost collided with him.
‘Oh, hi.’
His lip curled, eyes dancing. ‘A tepid greeting for an intimate acquaintance.’ His lips grazed her cheek, the cool formality grating on her nerves already stretched taut with indecision, confusion and the constant burn of need.
His lips hovered over her ear. ‘Have you already forgotten how it feels to come around my cock?’ His breath blasted the tiny hairs on her neck and then he leaned away, eyes sparking, and took a swig of beer. She glanced back to the dance floor. Phil, a head taller than most people, looked their way, his eyes narrowed even as he pressed up behind the woman he’d singled out for his attention.
Harley looked back to Jack, who gave no indication he’d seen her dancing with another man or that he cared one iota. Good. She wasn’t Phil’s. And she wasn’t Jack’s. She could dance with whomever she pleased. If only her libido understood.
‘Are you here with friends?’
He nodded once, his stare dipping to her chest and continuing down to her bare legs. ‘Alex and Libby. But perhaps I also stalked you here, like you stalked me to get what you wanted that first day.’
Did he? Did she care? Goose bumps snaked down her arms and she fought the urge to hug herself. Her nipples peaked, chafing on the gossamer fabric of her halter-top.
‘What do you want?’ Her voice carried a tremulous quality. Fear of his answer? Fear he’d ask her the same question?
He stared. The barest of shrugs. Then he clasped her fingers, his own cool and damp from the beer bottle.
‘I... I’m here with my sister. She’s celebrating.’ Why did she feel the need to explain herself? Why so unsure of this man she’d entrusted with her pleasure, her body? A man she allowed, no, begged, to push her boundaries, her a willing accomplice to their sexy game. A man she wasn’t certain she could trust, but wanted anyway. How messed up was that?
Another nod. His hand found her hip and he tugged her close, her body going willingly to slide along the length of his. Hannah and Phil danced only metres away, the Morris Building could be one big dud, her mind buzzed with secrets, doubts and humiliation that she’d let herself down one time too many, but she didn’t give a damn.
All that mattered was the warmth from his body, the curl of instant lust that sizzled up from her belly the moment she saw him and the frisson of uncontrollable need he inspired as easily as a quirk from his sinful mouth.
His lips glided over the skin below her ear, curling her toes.
‘I’m not the jealous type, ma belle. You either want me, want what I can give you, what we have together, or you don’t. Simple.’
So he had seen her dancing with Phil.
She shuddered, his warmth and spicy scent a combination more potent than the vodka she’d drunk. Was it simple? It should be. Just sex. Spectacular orgasms. No strings.
Why did her second-guessing his motives and doubting his integrity complicate everything? Why, after years of her shoving it to the back of her mind, did Hal’s indiscretion hover on the tip of her tongue every time she looked at Jack? Because she’d developed feelings beyond physical gratification?
‘There’s a reason you didn’t marry him.’
There were hundreds of reasons. Harley pulled away. ‘You knew I was engaged to Phil?’
He shrugged. ‘You’re an heiress. I saw the announcement.’ His fingers flexed at her waist. ‘What happened?’
Not one shred of envy marred his expression. If anything, he looked at her with hunger, as if he was seconds from kissing her, a look she’d grown accustomed to and a need reflected in her for anyone to see.
She sighed, Phil the last thing she wanted to talk about. But she had nothing to hide.
‘He...didn’t approve of me, said I wasted my birthright in pursuit of what he deemed a hobby.’
Jack’s eyes flicked to the dance floor, slivers of steel solidifying there. Then he was back with her, his lips brushing her temple.
‘I’m glad you saw through him, for your sake. A man who needs to put you down, one who couldn’t even get you off...not worth your time.’
‘How do you know he couldn’t get me off?’
He shrugged. ‘An educated guess. If he met your needs, you’d be happily married by now.’
She shuddered. ‘I was naïve. I never loved Phil. But part of me wanted to conform. And Hal approved.’ She shook her head at her own stupidity.
