the obvious erection pushing into her abdomen. It wasn’t as though he could step away and compose himself.
The sight of that bare, rosy nipple was emblazoned on his brain and worse, both of her nipples pressed against his chest, raising the temperature in the stuffy ballroom about a hundred degrees.
“Are you all...arranged?” he asked hoarsely.
She was shaking. Or was that him?
“I can’t,” she whispered and her hand worked between their bodies, brushing his erection an ungodly number of times. “The button won’t come loose.”
He nearly groaned. “We’ll have to get to the hall. Somehow. Can you turn?”
“Yes. If you keep your arm around me.”
They did a fair impression of Siamese twins, shuffling as one toward the back of the ballroom, Daniella clutching Leo with one hand and her dress with the other. Which meant her hands were nowhere near his erection—and that was good. One more brush of those manicured nails against him would have produced fireworks better left unlit in public.
Miraculously, the crowd had thinned. The awards presenter droned from the next room. Leo was missing the ceremony but Dax would have to understand.
An eternity later, they reached the hall and Leo hustled Daniella into a deep alcove housing a giant sculpture of a mermaid.
“We’re totally hidden from view. It’s okay,” he said.
She took a half step backward, as far as their tangled clothes would allow.
“My definition of okay and yours must be different.” Head bent, she studiously fingered the threads holding his button hostage until they finally came apart. “I’m sorry, Leo. You must be mortified.”
Her head was still down, as if she didn’t want to look at him.
“Me?” He tipped her chin up with a loosely fisted hand. Her cheeks were on fire. “You’re the one who has a reason to be mortified. I can’t imagine how you must feel. First I force you to make nice to Jenna and then almost rip off your dress. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” she countered fiercely. “This dress doesn’t fit quite right. I shouldn’t have worn it.”
Five minutes ago, he’d have agreed. If she’d dressed a little more matronly, he might be having that conversation with John Hu right now. Except the alternative—being wedged into a secluded alcove with his wife—suddenly didn’t seem so terrible. “That dress fits you perfectly.”
She shook her head as she twisted the waistline back into place. “All my clothes have to be altered. I know that. But I didn’t have this one done. Stupid. I should have thought about the consequences. My job is to make you look good, not embarrass you in public. I’m sorry. I’m not making a very good first impression.”
That’s what she was worried about? That she’d messed up and displeased him? A weight settled onto his chest. Did she think he was that concerned about their agreement?
Obviously so.
“On the contrary, you’ve made a great impression. Exactly as I expected. I watched you with my business associates. They liked you.” She’d charmed them easily and he could already envision her doing the same at future events. Daniella was amazing, through and through.
“Really?” The disbelief in her voice settled that weight a little deeper. She seemed so disheartened by what was such a small blip in the evening.
Daniella was his wife, not a casual date he might or might not see again. The very act of making her his wife changed everything. He wanted her to be happy, which he hadn’t planned, could never have predicted. Not only did he want her to be happy, he’d discovered a healthy drive to care for her and ensure her security. He wanted her to know she could depend on him, always.
Problem being, of course, that his experience with serious relationships started and ended with the woman in front of him.
He nodded, scouting for a way to put a smile back on her face. “If nothing else, you can take solace in the fact that your wardrobe malfunction didn’t take place on national TV.”
She laughed, as he’d intended. The resurrection of his hard-on, he hadn’t. But who could blame him? Her laugh curled through him like fine wine and came coupled with the distinct memory of her beautiful breast.
The secluded alcove grew close and heavy with awareness as she locked on to his gaze. Her irises warmed. “Thank you for rescuing me. It was very chivalrous.”
The back of his neck heated at the adoration in her eyes. He felt like a fake. There wasn’t a romantic bone in his body. “I wouldn’t have abandoned you.”
“Your button.” Without breaking eye contact, she touched it with her fingertips. “It’s loose.”
“No problem.” He swallowed and his throat was on fire. Everything was on fire. “I have another one.”
Slim eyebrows arched as she cocked her head. Loose tendrils of dark brown hair fell against her cheeks and he barely resisted an urge to tuck them back for her. And as a treat for himself. The shiny, slightly wavy locks would be soft against his fingers.
“Should we rejoin the party?” she asked in an incredible show of courage. Not many people would walk back into a room where they’d performed a free peep show. His admiration for her swelled. “As long as I don’t move around too much, I should stay tucked away.”
His gaze dropped to her cleavage automatically. She was quite tucked away, but the promise of what he knew lay beneath the fabric teased him. How easily he could thumb down that dress and run the pads across those taut nipples. No effort required at all. No one could see them back here behind the sculpture.
He sucked in a hot breath.
“Leo,” she murmured and slid lithe fingers along his lapels, straightening them as she traveled south.
“Hmm?” She was so close he could see golden flecks in her eyes. Raw energy radiated from her, wrapping around him in a heated veil.
“The party?” Her lips met on the last syllable and he recalled how they’d sparked against his when he’d kissed her at their wedding ceremony.
This was like a first date, wasn’t it? He’d kissed women on dates, lots of times. It might even be considered expected. A major disappointment if he didn’t do it.
Would kissing her be as hot the second time? Hotter?
His curiosity would only be satisfied one way.
“We should go back. Shouldn’t we?” she asked. But she stood there, frozen, peeking up from beneath her lashes coyly, as if she could read the intent in his eyes.
Yes. They should go back. His body strained toward her, desperate to be closer.
The scent of strawberries wafted to him on a sensuous cloud as she swayed into his space. Or maybe he was the one who moved.
Like honey, he thought as their bodies met. Their
