that belied the demanding fingers between her legs.
“It’s too soon,” she gasped, trying to hold on—to draw it out—but he knew her body too well. Way too well.
“It’s perfect, princess.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “Don’t fight it.”
She couldn’t, even if she’d wanted to. Release rose up from her depths and blanked everything out—sound, sight, smell. It was all lost. Nothing but the electric feel of the orgasm rocketing through her.
Her hands clasped his head, her nails biting into his scalp as she tried so very hard to muffle her cries against his neck. His voice broke through as the intensity ebbed, soft and low. A whisper.
Princess.
She melted in his arms, liquid in the wake of her pleasure. But he had her. She wouldn’t fall.
“That was so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, grabbing her hand and bringing it down to his cock. He was like marble, hard and rigid beneath her trembling fingers. “You got me all worked up.”
She righted herself, smoothing her dress down with one hand and keeping her other on him as his body pinned her to the balcony railing. “I did?”
“Those quiet little cries as you came are going to haunt me for the rest of my life.”
She swallowed. This man...he was everything she’d known he’d be. Her body and soul were alive, filled with a satisfaction so vibrant, she wondered why she’d never realised that she was only half-awake before.
But when she opened her mouth to respond, the sound of footsteps froze her.
“Ahem.” Three men stood at the edge of the balcony, all in tuxedos and without masks. “Looks like we’re interrupting something,” the one in the middle said.
Lainey wanted to shout that they were and tell them to get lost. Her perfect moment with Damian had been interrupted, and for what? So these beefcakes could judge them? She had to fight the urge to slap the smarmy smirk off the middle guy’s face.
“Looks like you are,” Damian said.
“Can I see your ticket?” one of the goons asked.
Lainey’s heart leapt into her chest. She hadn’t counted on being asked for her ticket once she was inside the venue. Crap. How was she going to explain that issue away?
“We’ve had a report of someone sneaking into the event,” goon number two added. “We take the privacy of our guests very seriously.”
Damian slipped his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and handed his invite over. Mr. Damian Edward McKnight was written in scrolled font across thick cream paper. Lainey would bet money they’d spent more on having the invites printed than she forked out for rent each year.
“Damian McKnight,” he confirmed. “My apologies to have to interrupt you, Mr. McKnight. I’m sure you understand that we have to take these matters seriously.”
Damian nodded. “Of course.”
Just as the goons turned to Lainey, someone came up behind them. This man was in a mask, so obviously he wasn’t one of the security staff.
“I thought I heard a familiar name,” he said. “I was coming up here to get away from the crowd, and it looks like you two had the same idea.”
“Mr. McPartlin.” Damian’s tone was flat.
As in Jerry McPartlin. The Jerry McPartlin. Lainey knew his name because her parents were huge fans of his first restaurant, Ora. They couldn’t afford to eat there regularly, but once a year on their wedding anniversary, they splurged.
“Are you going to introduce me to your lovely guest?” Jerry motioned to Lainey.
* * *
Fuck. Of course it had to be Jerry McPartlin who stumbled across him with a gorgeous, nameless girl in his arms in an area of the building they weren’t supposed to be in. He and the redhead had broken apart the second the security team had walked in, but why else would two people be hiding up here on a private balcony? Any hope he had of changing the man’s opinion had vanished into thin air. Unless...
An idea sprang to his mind. Hadn’t he been saying to Aaron that he needed to look like a family man? Like a guy who’d finally settled down?
This was either going to work brilliantly, or everything he wanted—needed—was going to come crashing down around him. Saying nothing would mean certain failure, and his motto had always been Go Big or Go Home.
“I’d like to introduce you to my fiancée, Ariel.” He squeezed the redhead’s hands in what he hoped was a silent plea for her to go along with his plan.
“Your fiancée?” Jerry cocked his head. “You never mentioned that you were getting married.”
Damian glanced at the woman beside him, who’d stayed mercifully quiet. “Didn’t think it was a necessary part of doing business.”
“It’s a pleasure.” Jerry stuck out his hand, and the redhead hesitated a moment before accepting the gesture.
“Likewise. I’m a huge fan your restaurants, Mr. McPartlin.”
“Please, call me Jerry.” He kissed the back of her hand before looking back at Damian. “Charming and glamorous. Looks like you’re a lucky man.”
“Not lucky enough to secure your business, on account of my image.” He couldn’t resist the little barb, especially since it appeared as though his story had been bought. “You can’t blame a man for wanting to steal a moment away with his soon-to-be wife, can you?”
“Perhaps I was too quick to judge.” His gaze lingered on the redhead’s hand, which wasn’t wearing a ring. “Didn’t you propose with a diamond?”
Shit. His mind whirred again.
“We’re having something custom-made,” she said, her voice silky smooth as though she hadn’t been panting and breathless a few moments ago. “Damian knows how much I like things to be perfect.”
She knew his name? He turned to the woman and her face tilted up to him, her lips full and pink. They curved into a smile. Of course, the security staff had said it aloud when they’d checked his invite. At least that bit of detail could lend extra authenticity to their story.
“That’s my Ariel.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. He sensed McPartlin’s eye lingering on her. “She knows exactly what she wants.”
“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up.” McPartlin nodded.
“We still need to check your invite, miss,” one of the security guys said.
The redhead stiffened beside him. Her hand tightened around his, squeezing in a way that told Damian she was exactly who they were looking for. No wonder she wasn’t keen to give up her name.
“I’m afraid Ariel’s invite met with an unfortunate end,” he said. “In the bathroom.”
The
