Rule's Obsession

By: Lynda Chance

The other man's face turned a whiter shade of pale. "Yeah."

Robertson turned and fled the room, and Angie was left semi-alone with Damian, his arm still wrapped around her. She swallowed and tried to digest the scene that had just taken place. "Wow," she said as she turned toward him, facing him while his other arm came around to enclose her entirely within his grasp. "And I thought that I could act." She tapped him on the shoulder, because she was floored and didn't know what else to do. "That was amazing."

He stared down at her for a moment too long and Angie felt her insides turn to mush. His voice when he answered was deep and sure. "That wasn't acting." He shook his head as if to clear it. "I don't know what the fuck it was, but it wasn't acting."

With that, he grabbed her by the hand and led her into the dining room to join the others who were congregating there.

Chapter Three

The limo pulled in front of her apartment and idled, the privacy screen drawn up to provide a seclusion that Angie wasn't quite comfortable with. The rest of the evening had been long and tedious, only because Angie's nerves were affected. After the scene with the Robertson guy, the party had sailed smoothly with everyone else accepting her and including her as if she were one of them.

And now, as they sat in the back of the car, the payment had already been made, and even though it had made her uneasy to take it, she knew she'd had to.

She pasted on a smile and held out her hand, determined to give Damian a business-like shake before she went inside. "Well, good-bye."

He glanced down with a maddening hint of arrogance, his gaze riveted on her face before dropping to examine every inch of her. Something intense flared between them and her heart jolted, the prolonged anticipation of his touch almost unbearable. Slowly, he put his palm against hers, wrapping his fingers around her hand, squeezing, but not letting go. "Are you planning on escaping with a handshake?" His voice was deep yet smooth, melting her insides where she sat.

Her pulse pounded and she could barely form a word when she thought about what he might be inferring. "Yes?" The word that should have been an affirmation sounded like a question, even to her own ears.

He frowned as if he couldn't fathom that she might want to escape from him. "After all those hot little looks you gave me from across the dinner table?"

He'd given her hot looks all evening as well, and even now, the expression on his face was both seductive and filled with virile appeal. "I thought that's what you wanted from me. You said it had to look real."

His steady gaze bore into her, making her stomach tingle. "You went far beyond what I expected, though."

Was it apparent to him that any acting on her part hadn't been necessary? Mortification filled her and she attempted to divert him from the truth. "I'm sorry. I've never taken acting classes or anything. I was flying by the seat of my pants."

"Yeah, but now for the sixty-four thousand dollar question." He slid a single finger down her cheek. "Was it all an act?"

The smoldering flame in his eyes was beginning to panic her. This would so not be a good idea, no matter what the tingle between her thighs was telling her. "What . . . what do you mean?"

"Your hot little looks indicated you wanted nothing more than to get me naked." He glanced up from her lips and his eyes caught and captured hers. "Is that the way it is or did I misread you?"

Damn. "Um . . . "

"It would be good, you know?"

Jesus, he smelled good. Concentrate, Angie. "Yeah, but it wouldn't be a good idea," she managed to say, her eyes glued to his.

"I agree with you." Angie's heart almost stopped when his fingers dropped to the top swell of her breast. Without looking away from her eyes, his thumb flicked just once against her nipple and she froze. "It's a bad idea." His gaze dropped to her breast as he hissed out, "It's a fucked-up idea."

Angie attempted to maintain control though it was all but impossible; her heart was racing so fast she could barely speak. "Bad idea . . . nothing in common," she rattled.

"I wouldn't go that far." His palm enclosed her breast entirely and he squeezed just hard enough that the immediate pleasure she felt was enhanced by a tiny frisson of pain. His gaze lifted and stayed riveted to her eyes as he rasped, "We have one thing in common." He squeezed again, his thumb spearing across her nipple. "We want to fuck each other so badly we can hardly stand it."

Angie attempted to rear back from him but he wrapped his beefy fist around her upper arm. "Not so fast. We're only talking. You can take that frightened look off your face." The blood rushed through her veins making her light-headed but she didn't attempt to get away again.

"I'm not frightened."

"No?" He looked doubtful.

She shook her head.

"The fact that I want to take you home and strip you butt-assed naked and sink into you from behind doesn't scare you? Not even a little bit?"

Angie was held spellbound, unable to answer as the descriptive image caused wet heat to pool between her thighs.