breathy. “I was at the sink and my clutch got caught and spilled open.”
“It’s not your fault, darling.” He rubbed her back in slow circles, the role of doting fiancé taking him over fully. A wicked smile curved on his lips. “I shouldn’t have been so rough.”
A small gasp sounded on her lips, but it was cut off by one of the guards clearing his throat. “Well, then. We should get moving.”
“It was great to see you again.” Damian nodded to McPartlin as he turned to leave, as well.
“Yes.” The older man looked them both over once more, as if trying to figure something out. “Enjoy the evening.”
Damian and the redhead stood close together on the balcony without saying a word until the men had descended to the ground level. Her relief was palpable in the evening air, and she sagged against him.
“So you’re a gate-crasher, huh?” Damian glanced down into her wide hazel eyes. “That’s a bold move. This is a very important event.”
“It certainly is,” she replied smoothly. “Oh, dear future husband of mine.”
He chuckled. Neither one of them was in a position to judge—they were both liars. Or both saviours, depending on how you looked at it.
“I guess this means I’m stuck with you for the rest of the evening, then?” she said, resting her head against his arm.
“Looks that way.”
He could think of worse ways to spend an evening—and at least having company would keep him from going crazy with all the snobbery in the ballroom. However, he’d put himself into a tight spot with Jerry McPartlin. While letting the man think he had a fiancée could work to his advantage, he’d have to make sure that Jerry McPartlin didn’t need to see his “future wife” ever again.
LAINEY COULDN’T BELIEVE her luck. Damian had practically done all the work for her—the whole thing about her being his fake fiancée meant they had to spend the evening together. And since he was the one who’d made that happen, she’d been able to relax and enjoy his company.
Or, more accurately, quietly freak out and enjoy his company.
They’d danced, eaten tiny, fanciful foods; she watched him bid on the silent auctions and talk to people whose names she knew from the papers. There’d been a lot of business talk, too. But he continued to introduce her as his fiancée, Ariel, and so that meant playing the supportive, doting future Mrs. McKnight. Of course, they’d had to explain the ruse to his friends, who’d eyed her with suspicion.
Now they were in the ballroom, and Lainey had her arms looped around his neck while his hand pressed into her lower back. It wasn’t dancing, per se. More like swaying in time with the music. But Lainey could have died right that second and been the happiest person on earth. Even in the whole Milky Way. This was the night of her dreams...but hopefully with a dirtier ending.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” he asked.
“What?” She tilted her face up to his.
“We need to leave together.” He’d bowed his head, his lips brushing her ear as the gravelly words made her knees go weak. “In case people are watching.”
“Of course.”
Damian held her close, his hand smoothing over her lower back, exposed by her dress. “No protest? I could be anyone.”
“So could I.” Her fingertips found his jaw, tracing the hard angle softened by smooth skin. “But that’s the whole point of a masquerade ball. We get to be anyone we want for a night.”
“Why did you come here?”
“I was hoping to get swept off my feet.” She grinned. “But a fake proposal will have to do.”
“If memory serves me correctly, I literally did sweep you off your feet. I might even have saved your foot.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
His forehead pressed against hers, mask to mask. Beads brushed her skin as she tilted up to him, her lips hovering a hairbreadth from his.
“What did you mean, Ariel? You wanted a man who was going to whisk you away to his castle and turn you into a princess?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I wanted a man who was going to treat me like a queen right now. A fantasy for one night—that’s all I want.”
Something stormy and electric shifted in his eyes, his lips tightening. But Damian wasn’t a man to hide his feelings. His hands shifted lower, cupping her behind and pressing her flush against him. He was harder than an algebra exam.
“One night?” he growled in her ear. “And nothing more?”
“I promise to turn into a pumpkin at twelve on the dot.” She dented her lower lip with her teeth, desperate to rub against him—to get the friction her body cried out for—but trying not to draw attention to them any more than they already had. This obviously wasn’t the kind of dancing the Carmina Ball was used to. “Then you’ll never hear from me again.”
“That’s really what you want?”
No. She wanted what he’d said—for him to whisk her away and make her his. For that proposal to be real. For the lust in his eyes to be something more. But Lainey was a pragmatist, if nothing else. And she knew there was no point wanting what she couldn’t have.
“Yes,” she lied. “That’s exactly what I want.”
His hands dropped suddenly and she stepped back, her body raging at the loss of contact. Her need chanted like a drumbeat in her bloodstream: more, more, more. The rushing sound in her ears drowned out the rest of the ballroom, her focus narrowing to him. Only him.
He was like a strange man-god hybrid in his black tuxedo and mask. The curve of the design highlighted his perfect nose—aquiline and aristocratic—the black leather making him darkly handsome. His lips formed a smile that sent a tremor through her. It wasn’t friendly, wasn’t romantic or caring or any of the other smiles she’d seen in the past. It was predatory. Delicious.
“Let’s go.” He held out his hand. “Now.”
Lainey glanced around the room—the ball was coming to an end. Guests were already leaving, though the waiters still lingered with drinks on their trays. “Now?”
“Right now. I’ve done enough business for one night.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to his side, his head dropping down to her ear. “And if we don’t finish this soon, I’m liable to drag you behind one of those potted plants in the next few seconds.”
“That could be fun,” she teased.
“I don’t like being quiet, Ariel.” Each word tugged on her nerves. He was playing her like a harp. “When I’m inside you, I want to make as much noise as I can so you know how incredible you feel wrapped
