I’ve never been so jealous in my life.

  He does his best to focus on the woman while I am experiencing the darkest turmoil.

  At one point, he shoots me a glance and our eyes lock, heavy with secrets.

  The instant connection makes me feel ten times worse as I realize that it could give us away.

  Someone like James or even David could pick up on it and figure out that something’s going on.

  A short breath makes it to my lungs before I smoothly push out of my seat, excuse myself, and walk away.

  I need some time alone to calm down, or maybe I should just go home.

  Dwelling over what has happened this entire evening, I walk down the corridor and take a turn, heading to Rain’s walk-in closet.

  Quietly, I fish out the key from the colorful bowl, unlock the door, and slip in.

  I turn on a small light, that is faint enough not to clue anyone in that I’m hiding in Rain’s closet.

  I breathe out a long sigh when I lock the door behind me.

  This is harder than I thought, I muse, when my phone vibrates with a message.

  I flip it.

  Tiago: Where are you?

  Me: Here.

  Tiago: Where’s here?

  Me: In the house.

  Tiago: What happened?

  “Why is everybody asking me what happened?” I mumble, typing, frustrated.

  Me: I needed a break. How about you? Where is your company?

  Tiago: Is that what the problem is?

  Me: She must not be there with you, or you wouldn’t be sending texts to me?

  Tiago: Where are you?

  Me: In a place where I don’t have to see her stare at you with puppy eyes while toadying to you.

  Tiago: She’s doing her job.

  Oh. He didn’t just say that.

  Me: Are you serious? You hired her. She’s only doing the job that you asked her to do.

  Tiago: We’re supposed to look legit.

  Me: I can’t believe that you’re actually defending her.

  Tiago: Why are you so jealous?

  I toss the phone on the plush carpet, releasing a quiet growl.

  I take a few long breaths and watch the screen lighting up with message after message before I pick it up from the floor.

  Tiago: Where are you?

  Tiago: I’m leaving with her if you’re not telling me.

  Me: I don’t want to talk to you right now.

  Tiago: If you don’t tell me I’ll ask Rain, and I’ll blow my cover.

  Me: Okay. All right. I’m in Rain’s walk-in closet.

  Tiago: Where exactly? I want to see you for a moment.

  I sigh.

  Me: Walk past the kitchen, take a left turn, and head to the back of the Penthouse. Follow the corridor. It makes a right turn. The second door on the right is the walk-in closet. Make sure no one sees you. I’ll turn the light off and unlock the door. Knock before you enter so I know that it’s you.

  Tiago: I know how to do this. Shush.

  Me: I can’t believe you.

  Tiago: Later.

  16

  EVE

  I push off the wall, kill the light, and crack the door open before I take a peek up and down the corridor, making sure no one is in there.

  My heart starts pounding as I wait, my blood throbbing in my ears.

  This is insane.

  I lean against the wall, hiding in the shadow when I hear a soft knock and right after the door slides open, his silhouette looming in the entryway.

  He stops for a moment, adjusting his eyes to the dimness–– the only trace of light glowing inside coming from a window.

  “I’m here,” I say in a quiet voice, grabbing his forearm.

  He steps in, closes the door, and locks it before he turns to me, takes my hand, and walks me to the lighted window.

  A faint glow rolls over his features, his eyes piercing the dimness with a dash of fire.

  “Why are you so worked up?” he asks, his voice lined with concern.

  “I don’t like how she looks at you.”

  A small smile tilts his lips.

  “That’s not what you told me on Christmas Eve. Remember? You said that you couldn’t care less about the blonde who fawned all over me.”

  I flick my hand up, irritated.

  “Is that what this is? Payback?” I shoot at him, incredulously.

  Biting his lip, he grins.

  I slap his shoulder playfully.

  “Don’t you bite your lip at me, Mister. It’s not funny. Where is she?”

  “She’s here. Do you want me to send her home?”

  “That would be nice.”

  He cocks an eyebrow at me.

  “And would you like me to introduce you as my girlfriend next?” he asks jokingly.

  “Ideally, yes, but we both know that it’s not possible,” I toss back at him, half-seriously.

  He searches my eyes for a moment before he takes my face in his hands.

  “We can have it both ways, Eve. If we’re telling the truth now because you’re jealous it will blow in our face.”

  “I can’t stand her.”

  He laughs.

  “It’s easy for you to be amused,” I blurt.

  “You think?”

  “You haven’t looked at me the entire evening.”

  His lips purse into an amused grin.

  “Not funny, Tiago.”

  “And?”

  “And I spent a few moments next to you two. She was laughing, smiling. Her hands were all over you.”

  “Not true.”

  My hand goes up in protest.

  “I was there. And you... Oh, you. You didn’t even care that I was close to you. You seemed unaffected.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I was looking at you,” I say, clasping my hips in frustration.

  “First off, I noticed your gaze, glare, I-could-kill-you pointed stare, but I had to ignore it because there were so many eyes on us.”

  He barely suppresses a grin.

  “Are you having fun?”

  Slowly, he bites his lip and nods.

  “Mmm-hmm,” he admits.

  I waggle my finger at him.

  “That will cost you dearly. You said that you’d make it up to me.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” he mutters again, a smirk pushing to his lips. “That’s exactly why I’m here.”

  I tilt my head to the side and look at him grappling with disbelief.

  He leans closer to me, cuffs the side of my neck, and brings his lips to my ear.

  “I know why you are so pissed,” he says quietly before he straightens his back.

  Slowly, he loosens his tie knot.

  For a few seconds, I gape at the band of silk looping around his neck no longer neatly fitted as it was a moment ago but dangling from his neckline, a shiny snake against the fabric of his shirt.

  Smoothly, he takes off his jacket and lets it drop on a nearby chair.

  “Why am I pissed?” I murmur as he stops in front of me, his hand working his tie open completely.

  He unbuttons the top of his shirt and unbuckles his belt.

  My mouth drops open.

  “You’re not...” I mutter, turned to stone.

  He closes the space between us.

  “We haven’t finished something today,” he breathes against my lips.

  “That’s not it.”

  “You wanna bet?”

  His smile sends a shiver down my spine.

  “It’s not––”

  I don’t have the time to finish my sentence when his fingers slide through my hair, close into a fist, and my back hits the wall.

  The moment, I feel his tongue into my mouth, and the wave of tingles rolling down my legs, I can no longer argue with him.

  His free hand goes down my chest and with one motion pushes the neckline of my strapless dress down. The air kisses my mounds the next second, the corset all bunched up around my waist.

  I’d like to tell him that he ruins my dress, but my concerns are swatted to the side by the feel of his hand between my legs as he tugs at my delicate panties.

  He doesn’t show much regard for my clothes as he rips them off in a split second, my garters torn as well, sharing my panties’ fate.

  My stockings start to slide down as he lifts my skirt to my waist. The satin gets crumpled, and I can only imagine how shitty it would look once he’s done with me, and yet I can’t remove my lips from his and can’t stop sucking on his tongue.

  “Tiago...” I call him in a complete haze. “Tiago, baby...”

  The softer I say his name, the harsher he handles me.

  In a brief moment of awareness, a thought rams through my head, bringing to me the realization that he is just as worked up as I am. All my fussing and nagging have stirred him up, my jealousy igniting his blood.

  He swipes my zipper open if nothing else to loosen the fabric around my waist and moves it around whichever way he likes so that he can have access to my body.

  His hand slides flat against my sex, two fingers entering me into a deftly move. I moan, whatever sound I quietly release getting swallowed by the fire of his kiss.

  I frantically swirl my tongue with his as we lock into an open-mouth kiss. My hands slip inside his shirt, pulling the sides open, my lips leaving his for a moment, traveling down his chest.

  He keeps thrusting his fingers into me, dipping into a pool of wetness while I leave a trail of kisses on his chest, sinking my teeth into his pecs as I go.

  Every time I’m doing it, his grip on my hair tightens.

  The rhythm of his strokes increases while my nails scratch his chest.

  “Fuck...” he grunts.

  Wrapping his hand around my neck, he pulls me up and pins me against the wall before he crashes into me.

  He cuts my air supply as he locks my mouth, working his fly open at the same time.

  Freed from his pants, his erection stirs against me, his hard warm flesh pressing into me.

  My hands roam all over his body while he lifts my thigh, hitches it on his hip and opens me to him.

  He grinds his length against my sex, sliding it through my folds, pressing it against my clit, making me gasp in desperation.

  He can’t possibly be teasing me. Not now. The thought that we are doing this in the last place in this town where we should be doing it makes my head spin. The fact that Rain and James are out there. David and Ashton Blackmore, and all the other guests.

  The fact that there’s even a woman waiting for him outside.

  All that realization puts fire in my blood.

  This is crazy, insane, risky–– to say the least, and arousing to the point that all the reasoning and common sense go out the window.

  Holding my leg up, he lowers himself. I know what he’s doing, and I’m watching him with hungry eyes, my flesh vibrating in anticipation.

  It takes a couple of seconds, and he trails my parted folds and clit with his mouth.

  As if I wasn’t high enough on the idea that we are doing something forbidden and taboo, and we are moments away from a complete disaster, my body would be just about to burst with pleasure.

  I start shaking as he licks my flesh and sucks on it and makes me his at the same time holding me open, making it sure that I’m not reaching the point of no return just yet, only building up on my already heightened pleasure.

  He pushes up to his feet, his hard cock jutting out in the air. My eyes fall onto the curved up veiny flesh as he grips it with his free hand, presses the smooth tip against my entrance, and slowly slides it in.

  Every inch that enters my body makes me shiver in delight.

  My thigh begins to hurt as he pushes it up, even more, to spread my legs to his liking while we both watch his thick hard cock getting swallowed by my body.

  I move against him, my back arching, my hips rolling while he goes back in again. And then repeats the motion.

  “Oh...” I murmur as I sense him hot and throbbing inside me.

  A smile curves his lips as he takes me in with bedroom eyes.

  “How does it feel now?” he rasps as he drives himself into me.

  “Better than before.”

  All the things that have tormented me for the past few hours–– actually most of the day, seem to have been reduced to nothing.

  He rams deep.

  I cry out.

  “Shhh...” he says, smiling, giving me his fingers to suck on them.

  He watches me drunk on me as much as I am on him, and for the first time ever, I experience this unique feeling as if nothing can pull us apart or prevent us from being together. That something bigger, and stronger than us threads through the fabric of our lives, making us destined to be together.

  In the heat of the moment, it dawns on me that it may be our chemistry speaking and the intense pleasure sweeping through our bodies, yet at the same time, I know that it’s much more than that.

  My body welcomes him, vibrating with pleasure every time he thrusts into me.

  He moves against me, my back lining the wall, my hands planted firmly on his neck, my lips parted for his mouth, my hips absorbing the force of his hips as he crashes into me.

  My leg is numb as he holds it up, folded over his arm, yet I don’t mind, the storm of sensations swirling through me making up for the silence in my limb.

  “Fuck me...” I murmur, heaving.

  His eyes could melt my skin.

  He picks up speed while I can’t stop myself from leaving marks on his skin. From scratching him, and marking him, writing with the drops of blood oozing from his skin that he...is.. mine.

  He. Is. Mine.

  The thought kicks me up high on a rollercoaster of lustful sensations, intensifying everything I feel.

  He rams himself into me, his body slamming into mine, his grip on my neck so tight it hurts me, and yet I don’t care. As we reach our climax, he locks my lips only for a few moments giving me that final, mind-blowing push before he makes me come shaking in his arms while I’m digging tense fingers in his neck.

  He clamps his hand on my mouth only to move faster and harder, blast his load, and experience his relief.

  “Oh, fuck...” I mutter with a broken voice as I start to scale down.

  Reality quickly sets in.

  It takes a moment Rand then I realize...

  My dress is a mess, my panties lying on the floor. My stockings–– I’d be surprised if they’re not ruined yet.

  And then, my phone flashes with a call and I see Rain’s name on the screen. It goes unanswered before a prompt alert displays a text message from her.

  Rain: Where are you?

  Panting, I close my eyes for a few seconds, experiencing the aftershocks–– my blood running through my veins at light speed, my flesh still throbbing, my legs trembling as he smoothly wraps his arms around me, cloaking me in his heat.

  His breaths are short and shallow as he leaves a soft kiss on my hair, and smoothly disconnects himself from me.

  His warm release trickles down my legs.

  I tip my gaze down staring at myself as if I look at someone else.

  “We gotta go, baby,” he says quietly as he fixes his pants and his tie.

  I watch him silently.

  “What happened?” he asks, his lips lined with a soft smile.

  “What have we done?” I murmur.

  He closes the gap between us, cups the back of my hair and gives me a soft kiss.

  “What we should’ve done today.”

  I loop my fingers around his wrist, wrestling with a pang of panic.

  “No...They’ll know something happened.”

  I give him a stern look, hoping that he’d argue with me and convince me that I’m wrong.

  “They won’t.”

  He kisses me again.

  “Rain’s looking for me.”

  He runs his hand up my shoulder and tilts my head, and then I realize he checks my neck for marks.

  They must be there. I know it. I feel it.

  His fingers brush my sensitive skin while my eyes slip to his neck.

  “Oh, my God. What have I done to you?” I mutter.

  I spot the scratches. Red, dotted with blood.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be okay,” he says, straightening my dress.

  It looks like a broken harmonica. Creased, bunched up.

  He tugs at the hemline before he fits it on my chest and zips it up. Some of the wrinkles flatten as the fabric stretches around me.

  My stockings lie limp around my ankles.

  He pulls them up as well when I finally jolt out of my paralysis and attach them to the garters.

  “I’m happy to see that you went with my choice,” he says, pointing to my underwear.

  I flick an eyebrow at him.

  Grinning, he picks my ripped panties from the floor.

  “These are mine now,” he says, tucking them into his pocket.

  “How am I supposed to get home without them?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take you home.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  “You still have your date with you.”

  “Speaking of that,” he says, shrugging his jacket on and fishing out his phone from his pocket. “She’s not my date. She’s the woman I hired for the night, and now I have a task for her.”

  His smile captures my attention as he types a message to her.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  He finishes typing and lifts his gaze to me.

  “You’ll see,” he says, winking at me.

  “I don’t like that look on your face,” I say, smoothing the fabric of my skirt.

  “Yet, you’re going to like the outcome.”

  Satisfied with the woman’s reply, he slips his phone into his pocket and checks my outfit and my appearance.

  His fingers go through my hair, disentangling it.

  He does a double look to my neck before he searches around and picks up a cashmere sweater from a hanger. He hands it to me, and I slip into it before he styles it on me.

  The fuzzy top has a dramatic collar that hugs my neck.

  Even the color–– a soft pearl-like shade, looks good on me, especially in contrast to my beautiful blue cobalt dress.

  “You’re good at this,” I say.

  “Hiding traces of wrongdoing?”

  “Clothes, women, fucking women in the closets.”