seemed sure of himself; he wore his rough edges with pride and did what he wanted without apology. She’d spent her entire life with the “right” boys who came from families much like hers and were members of the right country clubs. Even with a veneer of civilization, Nick was what the other girls in her debutante class had called a Bad Boy.
And she’d never wanted someone so bad so badly.
The music ended with a crash of cymbals, and the band announced they were taking a break. Her fingers dug into Nick’s muscular shoulders in protest. No. She didn’t want this dance to end.
Nick’s hand tightened around her waist, keeping her close, and her heartbeat jumped up another notch. From the way he was staring at her, she got the feeling he felt the same way. Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed hard.
The arms holding her pulled her another fraction of an inch closer until she could feel the beat of his heart against her chest. The blood roared in her ears and everything that wasn’t Nick ceased to exist.
Then his mouth landed on hers.
Oh, yes.
His lips were warm and firm and hungry, and they fired the hunger in her. Her hand slid over the solid muscle of his shoulder, to the nape of his neck, where she was finally able to run her fingers through the inky-black silk of his hair.
She felt, more than heard, him growl low in his throat as Nick’s tongue swept into her mouth to find hers.
Then she began to burn.
The fire started low in her belly, moving down through her core until her thighs began to quiver. It spread up, causing her breasts to feel heavy and her nipples to harden against the silk of her bra.
Nick’s hands cupped her head, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones to her temples as he held her steady against the onslaught.
If she’d had any worry that the tension—the want—had been only one-sided, Nick dispelled that erroneous notion with one press of his hips against hers.
“Get a room!” someone shouted, and she broke away quickly, putting distance between them.
Oh, no.
The lovely heat of Nick’s kiss receded as the hot flush of embarrassment rushed to her cheeks. Nick didn’t seem to notice—or care—as he placed one last kiss on her temple and tilted her face back up to his.
The wry smile she saw answered her question. Nick didn’t care that a crowd was watching. But he did release his hold on her waist, taking her hand and twining his fingers through hers as he led her off the dance floor.
But he didn’t lead her back to the table they’d occupied earlier, winding his way instead through the crowd to the bar, where he ordered another round of drinks for them. He pressed a twenty into her hand and leaned close to her ear. “Wait for the drinks, and I’ll be right back.”
She didn’t have a chance to question him before he disappeared into the crowd. A couple of minutes later, she saw him in the back corner, next to a staircase, talking to a burly bouncer with arms the size of Texas. The bouncer nodded, and Nick headed back in her direction as the bartender set their drinks in front of her.
“What was that about?” she asked, as Nick handed her a drink, took her other hand and picked up his own glass.
“You’ll see.”
They approached the stairs and the bouncer standing there looked rather ferocious from up close. Without saying anything, he reached behind him, unhooked a velvet rope and waved them past.
The noise of the bar receded as they climbed the stairs to the second floor and walked down a dimly lit corridor past several closed doors. Nick finally stopped in front of one marked simply Six.
The door swung open easily, and curious, Evie stepped inside. A large window covered one wall, giving an unobstructed view of the stage and dance floor from above, and two leather-covered sofas were arranged in front of it. It was a small, intimate room with low lighting.
And privacy.
Her heart skipped a beat and she moved to the window. “This is one of those VIP rooms, isn’t it?”
Nick nodded as he closed the door behind him. Evie heard it snick into place, and the muscles in her thighs tightened.
“It is—a small one, though. Usually they’re a bit bigger. This one is designed for small business meetings as opposed to parties.” The thick carpeting muffled his footsteps as he moved across the room toward her.
“And we managed to get it how?” Forming words was very difficult, and she was pleased she wasn’t stuttering.
“I know the bouncer minding the rope. Dave owes me a favor, and since this room wasn’t being used at the moment…”
Wow. They’d been told to get a room and now they had one. Evangeline Harrison—the one who went to nice dinners at the Club and smiled her way through cocktail-party fundraisers—reeled in shock. The Evie she’d rediscovered tonight shivered at the possibilities.
“That panel to your left controls the speakers—you’ll be able to hear the band once they start up again.”
Who cared about the stupid band?
“And that—” he pointed to what looked like a key fob to a luxury car on the table “—signals for a server. They won’t enter unless you call for them.”
Nick was only an arm’s length away, and his intent was obvious. But he didn’t take the last step that would close the gap. She guessed he was leaving that up to her. Suddenly, she felt gauche and naive and unsure of herself. “Wow, they think of everything.”
Her hands were starting to tremble from the proximity and the need to touch him, and her drink sloshed over the rim. Nick held out his hand, and she handed him the glass. He set it on the table and held his hand out again.
There was a clear path to the door. She could push a button and have someone in here in just another minute.
It was her choice.
This time she placed her hand in his and welcomed the electricity that arced through her. One small step, and those strong arms closed around her, and the fire in her belly pulled the oxygen from her lungs. She required no encouragement at all to pull his head down to hers.
That hunger she’d felt earlier roared back to life full force, causing her to sway dangerously on her feet, and Nick’s arms tightened, steadying her.
One hot kiss melded into another as her greedy hands traced over the contours of his back, learning the musculature. Nick’s hands massaged the small of her back, sliding under the hem of her shirt to scorch her skin as his lips slid down her neck and his tongue dipped into the hollow behind her collarbone.
How they covered the short distance to the couch, she didn’t know, but then Nick was easing her down and moving over her.
Evie wanted to cry at the exquisite sensation of Nick’s body on hers, the heavy weight of him settling between her legs. The cool leather of the couch
