Lora Leigh - Only Pleasure

“Maybe close.” He grinned.

Chase watched Kia. That dress was killing him. The cashmere draped down her shoulders, and the bodice was snug, barely hinting at the valley of her breasts, though it cupped and caressed the mounds like a lover’s hands. It snugged down her body to her hips, then flared over her legs, and fell to the floor in a swath of graceful, soft fabric.

She had walked away from conversation with Tessa Andrews. Few people walked away from Tessa. She was warmhearted, kind, and she drew people to her.

Kia’s expression bit at his heart as she did it. Walked away, hunger reflecting in her brilliant blue eyes as she did so. She’d wanted to stay. She had wanted to laugh and joke as the women behind her did, and she had wanted to join in with them. Instead, she had forced herself to walk away.

Damn her. The more he checked into the life she had lived in the past two years, the more furious he became. He should have kept a closer watch on her, should have made certain she was doing okay.

What had made him imagine she would be smart enough to do as he told her to? To come to him if Drew approached her again.

She hadn’t. Unofficial reports stated that in the past year Drew had begun an intense campaign to force her back into the marriage.

The chances of his succeeding might appear slim, but Chase was betting Drew knew already what Chase was just learning. Kia had completely isolated herself. She had no friends, no lovers. She had acquaintances, but no one she shared confidences with.

That loneliness was destructive. Chase knew it was. He had been there, long ago and far away, and he knew it didn’t work.

As he watched, he ground his teeth in anger. Daniel Conover, cousin to Lucian and Devril Conover, members of the club and co-lovers to that little spitfire Tally Rafferty, had stopped her.

Daniel’s blond good looks, his suave and practiced flirtiness always charmed women.

“Daniel didn’t waste much time, did he?” Khalid remarked beside Chase.

The bastard was laughing at him. Chase should have known better than to start socializing with the damned mocking, self-proclaimed playboy. Khalid prided himself on driving his father insane by convincing the world at large that he was a lazy, shiftless spoiled rich boy on the make. He prided himself on driving his friends crazy, too.

“Daniel doesn’t have a chance,” Chase growled.

To which Khalid gave a noncommittal little hum.

“What the hell does that mean?” He frowned at the other man.

“What does what mean?” Khalid was openly laughing now.

“That sound,” Chase said.

“It merely means whatever you think.” Khalid shrugged. “But Daniel is rather popular with the women. And as we’ve found out, Kia has become rather alone. Women should never be alone in such ways, Chase. It’s a crime against nature, against their very instincts.”

“Don’t start lecturing me on women, Khalid,” he retorted.

“And so there goes my fun for the night.” Khalid chuckled. “I wonder if Ian would allow me to dance with Courtney. I wouldn’t have to worry about her groping me in public as that shameless little Rebecca Harding did.”

There was an edge of censure in Khalid’s voice that Chase rarely heard. He would have commented on it, but Daniel chose that moment to actually touch Kia. He reached out and ran the backs of his fingers down her arm. Chase had had enough.

He wondered if he really growled.

“Should I have the limo brought around?” Khalid asked him, more than just amused now.

Chase didn’t bother answering him. Khalid would have his driver on call and the limo would be at the door in seconds if they needed it.

He made his way through the crowd, nodding as guests called to him, ignoring questions, his eyes narrowed, his entire focus on Kia.

She was shaking her head as Daniel tipped his blond head to the side to ask her something. She shook it again as Chase moved in behind her.

“Chase.” Daniel smiled as Kia turned quickly, her hands bracing against Chase’s chest as she realized how close they were.

The moment she touched him, she felt something shift inside her. Languorous weakness invaded her body, her nipples peaked, the flesh between her thighs grew swollen, sensitive. Wet. Just that fast.

As though she had been waiting for his hands to cup her arms, his light green eyes to meet hers, his expression to shift with the memory of one stolen night they had shared.

“Chase.” His name slipped from her lips on a sigh, as though of relief.

“You promised me a dance, Kia,” he told her, his voice lowered, smooth, like the finest brandy on the coldest night, and that was how it filled her.

“I did, didn’t I?” She was mesmerized by his eyes, by his lips.

The world seemed to stop, there and then. The music whispered in the distance, voices became muted, unimportant, as they ignored Daniel and he drew her to the dance floor and pulled her into his arms.

Her head went against his shoulder, her arms around his neck as his arms encircled her, and he began to lead her around the floor.

She was lost. Nothing else mattered but the dance and the man, the arms holding her, and the feel of him against her.

“You look like a jewel in that dress,” he whispered, bending his head to her, as though they were the only ones who existed at that moment.

“I almost didn’t wear it,” she admitted, too lost to sensation to play the flirty game or the cool, bored socialite.

“Why?” His lips brushed her ear.

“I don’t like standing out.”

“You look beautiful. Like a sapphire in the snow. I saw you the moment I entered the room.”

And she had wanted him to see her, she realized. The moment she saw the dress the other day, she had known it would draw attention, and a part of her had wondered if it would draw Chase’s attention.

The stroke of his eyes was better than no stroke at all. And how she had missed the stroke of his hands.

One stolen night hadn’t been enough. She had lain alone the rest of the week, aching, dreaming, awakening and whimpering when he wasn’t there on her lonely couch beside her.

“I’ve decided blue is my favorite color,” he whispered, nipping her ear with a subtle little bite. “But I liked white, too. Tell me, baby, do your pretty panties and bra match that dress?”

She almost lost her breath. Her head lifted as she looked up at him, meeting his eyes, holding his gaze and the heat and hardness of his body.

“Yes.” She licked her dry lips, arousal pouring through her now.

“And the stockings?” He pressed her head back to his chest, whispering the words against her hair.

“Lighter.”

“Silk?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to unwrap you like a present tonight,” he told her, his voice roughening. “Khalid has a new oil he swears was made for you. Would you like us to use it?”

He wanted to use it. She could hear it in his voice.

“Yes.” She wasn’t capable of more than that. The words came out as a whimper, a sighing little cry of need.

The need was like a fever inside her. It had built over the days, simmering and then flaming, and now it was sweeping through her body like a wildfire.

“Have you been wet for me, Kia?” he asked her then. “Have you touched yourself and imagined me?”

Her eyes were closed, the memory of trying to find release as she thought of him burning through her.

“I always think of you then.” She swallowed tightly. “I always have.”

“Always?”

“Longer than I should have,” she admitted.

He had fascinated her, even before her marriage. Turned her head, made her wonder at the wicked sensuality she had caught in his expression sometimes.