A rich man’s playpen.
Booze flowed from silver trays carried by thong-wearing waitresses, who offered fresh flutes of champagne or golden spirits that were no doubt the very expensive kind.
The music changed to sultry French lyrics, setting the scene for arousal. The atmosphere crackled. I’d lost track of time and wondered how close to midnight we were.
Tobias led me to the far corner of the room, right up to the large mantel where a hearth burned brightly, orange logs sparking and exuding the kind of heat these old houses desperately needed. Rising out of those flames burst the scent of pinecones and rosemary.
I turned to face the marble mantel and warmed my hands against the dancing flames.
Glancing left and then right, this was also a perfect vantage point to view the other guests, and despite their masks it was obvious the men came from wealth and the women with their tall, slender figures were merely trophies, perhaps some of them coming from money themselves.
“Turn around,” Tobias whispered.
I did so with a huff of rebellion and nudged up against him. His palm rested against the arch of my lower spine, sending shivers up it.
“I’d love to visit your gallery,” I said. “The one in LA.”
He dipped his head to my ear. “We’re wearing masks for a reason. Let’s not give any clues to who we really are.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re forgiven.”
I raised my chin. “You’re not. Forgiven, that is.”
His hand slid lower and he gripped the back of my thong—and tugged.
I gasped when my thong rubbed my clit and it ignited in a shock of bliss. My sex thrummed with pleasure.
He smirked. “Something wrong?”
“You’re not allowed to do that,” I said in a rush.
“Clearly I am.”
“No, we’re merely pretending to be lovers.”
“Lovers?”
“Well, whatever the kind of relationship these people have—” I swept my hand into the crowd.
“They seem happy to me.”
“I’ll take a rain check.”
He grabbed my arm. “Not without me.”
“Why?”
He gave a polite smile to a couple standing close. “They’ll stop you. And then give you back to me.”
“Lucky me.” I waggled my eyebrows playfully.
He looked amused. “So, how does it feel to step outside your comfort zone?”
“You like living dangerously?”
“There’s no danger here. Just decadence, power and privilege. Nothing we can’t handle.”
Despite standing beside her tux-wearing partner, the pretty masked blonde nearby was clearly flirting with Tobias. Her boyfriend, with his striking red hair and cold gray eyes, caught her leering our way and instead of there being any kind of fallout to Blondie’s teasing, he merely nodded respectfully toward us.
Tobias gave a subtle shake of his head.
That closed that offer down, then, and my mind ran off with the kind of scenario Blondie might have suggested. An unfamiliar wave of jealousy jolted me into realizing I was falling for him.
Tobias was staring right at me and was annoyingly giving me the kindest, most reassuring smile.
“I’m not your girlfriend,” I muttered defensively.
“We’ve managed by some miracle to make it to the level of friends. I’ve felt comfortable enough to show you one of my inventions and you’ve dared to show me your assets.” He arched a brow.
“Are you like this with your girlfriend?” I looked up at him.
“Are you fishing for clues on me, Zara?”
“Merely making polite conversation.”
His eyes glittered in the firelight. “I fuck, yes.”
I pretended not to be thrown and fluffed a strand of hair to distract him from my shock.
“How about you?” he said.
“God, no, won’t be trying that again. Dating, I mean.”
No matter how amazing one night of wildness with Wilder sounded.
“Someone broke your heart?” he asked softly.
“Doesn’t that come as standard?”
He turned and stared at me for the longest time.
I forced a smile. “Art’s my only love. And it always will be.”
His intense green eyes seared into me as though trying to scorch my soul, causing a thrill to surge up my spine. My flesh thrummed with aliveness from being this close to him as though unwittingly craving even more...heartache.
I stepped toward the blonde. “Which way is the loo, please?”
She leaned toward me. “Shall I show you?”
“No, thank you, though.” Now that we had a reason to wander off, I smiled back at Tobias.
Her boyfriend’s lust-fueled glare ate me up and sent an uneasy shiver down my spine.
Tobias narrowed his gaze at the man, proving his disapproval, and the redheaded stud turned away, his smirk looking like a permanent fixture.
The blonde pointed left of the stage.
“Come on,” said Tobias, and we headed in that direction.
“That was easy,” I muttered.
Tobias’s grip tightened. “Not now.”
We weaved our way through the crowd, who were totally absorbed by the dancers. Two of the showgirls on stage were getting it on and taking this lusty extravaganza to the next level.
My jaw gaped when one of them kneeled before her lover and buried her face between the other girl’s legs, the woman responded eagerly thrusting her sex forward, her eyelids flicking and her moans rising.
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
“Then don’t look,” snapped Tobias.
He navigated us around a couple who were stripping. We were closing in on midnight apparently.
We slipped out a side door.
Music and cheers lessening behind us as we sped down the hallway, me in four-inch heels and trying to keep up with Tobias.
We paused at the fork in the corridor. Three choices lay ahead of us. “You Americans are a bunch of perverts,” I bit out.
He snapped his glare my way. “Excuse me?”
“That’s a den of iniquity.”
He pointed at my shoes. “What’s that beneath your feet?”
I leaned forward to better look down.
“That’s England, Zara. These are your people.”
I fisted my hands and rested them on my hips. “Where is it, then? I want to see it.”
“I hope you’re referring to the painting?” He grinned. “Sure you don’t want to go back and take another peek? Dabble a bit?”
“Quite