I keep at it, pretending his mouth isn’t pooling with saliva, hoping to fall into a mindless groove. That hope is dashed the moment he shoves a hand between my legs, hindered only by the long skirt of my dress.
I’ve never been a prude, but I’m reminded why the dozen lovers I had before Cole never lasted. Seduction is everything, and Cole knew how to ravish me with a single look.
Then he abandoned me.
I need to get over him. I know this, and to do so, I need to forget about sentimentalities and just have sex. It doesn’t have to be great. It doesn’t even have to be good. I just need to fucking do it already.
So I let Mark prod and dig at my crotch through the folds of the dress, mentally urging my body to play along.
Ten minutes of groping and sloppy kissing, and my pussy’s still as dry and frigid as my emotional state. Is it me? Am I so messed up that I’ll find a thousand faults in every man I try to be with?
I break the kiss and press my lips to Mark’s shoulder, discreetly blotting off his spit. “I’m going to grab another beer. Want one?”
“Okay.” He must think I can’t see him adjusting his dick in the dark, because he does so with an unsexy-like tug.
I slip my phone off the coffee table and make my escape inside. When I reach the kitchen, I dial Bree.
My sister answers on the first ring. “You’re supposed to be on a date.”
“It isn’t working.”
“Which part?”
“All of it. He’s nice, but I don’t feel anything.”
Her sigh billows through the phone. “You’ve known him all of ten minutes.”
“Two hours. There’s no chemistry. No sparks. Nothing. Nada.”
“Give him a chance.” Something crashes in the background, and she muffles the speaker through her shout. “Angel, I told you not to touch that!” Rustling noises scratch through the phone. “Danni, look, try to have an open mind, okay? These things take time.”
“It only took a fraction of a second with—”
“If you say his name, so help me God.”
“I’m trying, Bree.” I prop my elbows on the kitchen counter and move my engagement ring back to my left hand where it belongs. “This guy… He’s not right for me.”
“Are you attracted to him?”
“He’s cute.”
“So he’s cute and nice. Let him use those traits to clean the dust out of your vagina.”
I scrunch my nose. “I don’t understand how you teach first-graders with that mouth.”
“I’m looking out for you, Danni. Just think about all the orgasms you can have without worrying about batteries. Remember what that’s like?”
“Yeah.” I remember with sweet, agonizing longing.
“Then go jump on his dick.” She disconnects.
Kill me already.
At this rate, I’ll die alone, waiting for a man who’s never coming back.
I blow out an exasperated breath. It’s just sex. Or not sex. Either way, hanging out with Mark is the opposite of alone. I need this.
After a couple more minutes of waffling, I return to the backyard with my heart sprinting in my chest.
“You forgot the beers.” His lanky silhouette prowls toward me.
Shit. My mind is so flustered I can’t even think of an excuse.
He veers around me to stare down the driveway at the street. “You expecting someone?”
“No.” I join him on the side of the house and squint at the luxury sedan parked on the curb.
The back door of the mysterious car opens, and a woman steps out. Her heels turn toward us and clickety-clack along the driveway, sounding her advance.
Is she lost? It’s too dark to make out her features, but she’ll pass under the motion-sensor mounted on the roof in the three, two…
The floodlight illuminates her tall slender frame. Dark brown hair sweeps into a low bun. Sleeveless black dress, flawless golden skin, heavy makeup. A blank expression on a face I’ve never seen before.
“Miss Angelo?” She pauses within arm’s reach.
“Yes?”
In her late-twenties or early-thirties, she lifts her nose with an air of snootiness. As pretty as she is, she’s probably used to people staring at her.
“I’m Marlo Vogt, a representative of The Regal Arch Casino and Hotel.” She shakes my hand with limp fingers. “Mr. Savoy would like to meet with you.”
“I don’t know who—”
“He owns the casino.”
The owner? Of the largest casino in the Midwest? My jaw drops. “Why does he want to meet with me?”
“He wants to discuss”—her sharp gaze flicks over my body—“your services.”
My hackles bristle. “If he wants dance lessons, he can set up an appoint—”
“He’s waiting.”
“He’s what?” My eyes widen. “He wants to meet now?”
“I’m here to escort you to the casino.”
Everything inside me rebels against her high-handedness. “He can make an appointment like everyone else.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I have plans tonight.”
Marlo casts a disinterested glance at Mark, who watches the interaction with an arched brow.
“Mr. Savoy is a busy man,” she says in a bored tone. “The offer is now.”
I can’t afford to turn down a job. I’m barely keeping my dance company afloat, and private dance instruction is an easy way to bring in money. But I’m not going to instruct someone who expects me to drop everything at the snap of his fingers.
“Send my regrets to Mr. Savoy.” I grasp Mark’s hand. “If he’s interested in my services, I’m listed under Danni’s Dance Company on the Internet.” I turn away and leave her glaring after me.
Mark follows me back to the loveseat behind the house. “That was weird, right?”
“Very weird.” I sit beside him, wondering how much money I just turned down. “The bulk of my business is private ballroom lessons. Rich old men. Couples looking to spice up their marriage. I could really use the income, but that was… I’ve never had someone show up at my house like that.” My stomach knots. “My address isn’t publicly listed.”
“He owns The Regal Arch properties. If a man that wealthy wants to hire you, he can easily find out where you live.” He rests a hand on my knee. “You’ve never met him?”
“Not that I know of. Have you?”
“I’ve heard of—”
Footsteps echo along the driveway, the scuff of soft-soled shoes growing nearer. I didn’t hear Marlo drive away and stupidly wonder if she changed out of her heels.
I stand just as the trespasser rounds the back corner of my house, and my breath stalls.
A tall imposing man in a suit steps onto the brick path, backlit by the nearby floodlight. Shoulders back and hands clasped behind him, he’s a scowling pillar of intimidation.
Is this Mr. Savoy? Was he in the car the entire time? Why is my heart beating so frantically?
I’m instantly drawn to him, to the way he pauses at the edge of the light without speaking. The way he lowers his chin and lifts only his gaze to look me straight in the eyes. The way his severe expression doesn’t twitch, doesn’t expose a hint of emotion or intent.
My feet move cautiously, as if commanded by his steady focus. As if he’s gathering every molecule in the air, summoning all energy from every living thing around him, demanding the world’s attention merely through the presence of his dominance.