by Rosanna Leo
"Dino!"
"Say what you want, princess. You are a recipe for premature ejaculation, if I've ever seen one."
And despite the fact that she'd blushed at his vulgarity, she'd also felt really good.
But now he and Sheila were gone, off to ready themselves for the ball. And she was stuck waiting for Eric. Wondering if Dino hadn't been too heavy-handed with the blush, or if Sheila hadn't given her one too many spritzes of some concoction she insisted was a Calvin Klein perfume. Maia sniffed her bare arm. For someone who only wore baby powder, she worried she smelled very much like the inside of a cat house.
She wandered toward her full-length mirror and checked herself out quickly. God. A red, red dress. Hair spilling over her right eye in waves she could never hope to achieve again on her own. More eye makeup than even a New Jersey housewife should be caught dead wearing. All in all, she looked garish. A swarthy, low-rent version of Jessica Rabbit.
And yet, when Dino and Sheila had finished with their handiwork, there had been tears in their eyes. Of course. They'd known her for years and had never seen her wear anything other than comic book characters on her chest. Or dirt. Or crumbs of food.
There was a loud knock at the door. Maia's head shot up. Geez, even his knocks sounded impatient.
One last time, she looked quickly at herself in the mirror. Her look screamed, “Whore for hire!” but it would have to do. She grabbed her sequined bag and swung open the door.
Their eyes met. And they both just stared, wide-eyed.
Eric's cock shot up like one of Poseidon's dolphins, shooting toward the surface of the water. His mouth went dry. His palms were sweaty. He felt like a randy teenage boy. A mortal one, for fuck's sake!
She was breathtaking. Of course, even when she was dressed in her quirky wardrobe with no makeup she was beautiful. But this, this vision before him, was a different animal entirely.
She looked as if she'd been poured into her slinky red dress. He couldn't stop staring at the tops of her boobs. A generous portion of her chest was on display, creating some mighty delicious cleavage. It reminded him of their interrupted lovemaking session, of how perfect it felt to take her nipples into his mouth. And her tight dress looked as if it would only take a flick of his finger to send it plummeting down to her ankles. Those tasty nipples were a mere flick away.
As much as he felt insane with the need to yank her bodice down, it also seemed a shame to mar the picture before him. This was a new Maia Douglas. With her smoky dark eyes, styled hair, and those red lips, she looked like a goddess. And he'd seen a few goddesses in his time.
Only the goddesses he knew didn't generally blush so delightfully at their partners.
Maia couldn't speak, couldn't move. When she'd first met Eric, she'd known he was a total knockout. The most orgasmic man she'd ever met. How he'd ever managed to kick it up a few notches, she didn't know.
He was in a tux. A gorgeous tux draping so intimately over his muscles it looked as if it were fashioned by horny magic elves. The black silkiness of the fabric made his green eyes pop and showed up every single blond highlight on his head. Which was amazing because he'd slicked his wavy hair back with a really delicious smelling gel, so she really shouldn't be able to see his highlights, but she could ... and she was babbling, even in her own head.
It took everything in her power not to haul him into her apartment and rip his clothes off and suck the life out of him like a vampire at a bloodbath.
He gave her a little, intimate smile, making her knees knock. “Come on, beautiful.” He took her hand and squeezed. “I'm going to want at least one dance with you before I have to start wrestling the other men off you."
She blushed so hard, she was sure she resembled her elderly Aunt Hilda that time she figured out the latch on her dad's liquor cabinet. She let him lead her out the door. And when she heard him muttering, more to himself than to her, her blush deepened.
He was saying something about trying not to kill any man who even looked at her.
Yup, Eric decided upon entering the gala with Maia. He was going to kill someone tonight.
He scanned the area. The banquet room was beautifully decorated. Between the orchids and fairy lights and sumptuous furnishings, Eric knew he should probably be paying his respects to the organizers. But he didn't care about all of that, even if he was the big cheese here and was expected to mingle and schmooze.
Because they hadn't been in the banquet room for more than five minutes before Eric spotted at least ten men he wanted to beat to a fine pulp. To pummel with his bare hands.
His date was creating quite the stir.
Of course, most people associated with the museum knew Maia or her father. None had ever seen her look like this, apparently. Their newfound appreciation was a little too evident for his liking. He'd seen several young, as well as old, men from the staff ogling her, their eyes wide with unexpected lust.
It was making his blood boil.
He couldn't keep himself from glaring at a handsome member of the board—Jeremy something-or-other—as he pulled Maia aside and chatted her up. While looking as if he wanted to eat her up.
Eric reached for her arm again, a little too caveman-style, and she turned to him with a questioning look. He didn't care. No one would be eating her up tonight.
Except him.
Shit, he thought. Why had he even invited her to this shindig? He was supposed to be leaving her alone. For her benefit, as well as his. What if Nemesis decided to make another appearance?
Or, even worse, what if Eric forgot himself again and took a sip of champagne? He couldn't bear the thought he could mistreat Maia, that he might hurt her. She'd be better off with that schmuck Jeremy.
The problem was she made him feel protective. Too protective. Possessive. As much as he knew he was no good for her, in any way, he couldn't bear the thought of anyone else being with her either.
So, he'd demanded she join him tonight. His godlike impulses be damned.
But the sight of other men dribbling all over her was killing him as effectively as a sharp Spartan pike through the heart.
The band began a Spandau Ballet cover. Perfect. Eric reached for her hand and yanked her away from the slobbering Jeremy. “My turn."
She waved at the board member as Eric dragged her onto the dance floor and enfolded her in a tight grasp. He tried to steady his breathing, but it was no good. Just about defeated, he buried his head in her neck. She smelled so good. Some new perfume which went straight to his head and made his balls tighten in anticipation.
"Hey, you can let go a little,” she joked, whispering into his lapel. “I won't fall down. Even though these heels are clearly an instrument of torture and meant to destroy lesser women like me."
He held her even tighter. Lesser women. Impossible.
"Eric, are you okay?” She looked up at him, concerned. He was so pale.
"I'm fine,” he responded, his voice constricted.
"You don't look fine. Aren't you having a nice time?"
"Yeah,” he lied. “Awesome.” It was fucking torture, was what it was. Seeing her in a sexy dress and not being able to do anything about it. Gods, he'd never wanted to make love to anyone like this.
She made a little noise of uncertainty. “Hmm. I think you're lying."
He raised his head to look at her. And tried hard not to kiss her when he glimpsed the innocence in her dark eyes. “Lying?"
"I think you're miserable.” Her red lips parted in a small smile. “I think these functions make you as miserable as they make me. Only you're the boss, so you have to be on all the time. That's got to be hard."
"You're partly right."
"I knew it."
"But you're partly wrong, too.” He stared at her for what seemed to be the longest time. And then he bent his head to her ear and whispered, “Maia, I am miserable. Miserable because I don't want to be here. What I really want is to take you home to my place. I want to slide you out of that hot little exc
use for a dress, and I want to lay you on my bed. And, more than anything, I want to finish what I started the other night."
She just stared at him, apparently unable to respond. There was an uncomfortable hitch in her breathing, as if she were trying hard to regulate it. She sagged into his arms, evidently winded by his suggestive declaration, so he held her tight to his chest.
He gazed into her eyes, feeling such desire, but such regret. “But I can't. And so, I'm completely and utterly miserable right now."
Her eyes lowered, unfocused, as she peered at a spot on his lapel. “Oh."
"Have I shocked you?” he asked as they danced, moving his thigh between her softer thighs.
"Yeah. You have since day one,” she blurted out. “But I have a question."
"Hmm,” he murmured into her neck. He let his hand trail down her lower back, seeking, until his middle finger came to rest over the sweet divide of her ass.
"Why can't you ... you know, do what you want?"
"It's a little complicated. It's just better for you if we don't have a repeat of the other night. Trust me on this, Maia.” He couldn't let Nemesis hurt her. He just couldn't. But he couldn't stop touching her either.
Her nervous laugh erupted against his hard chest. “Right. So you say, but your hand is still on my ass."
So it was.
He looked down at her and smiled knowingly. And moved his hand up to a respectable point on her back. “There. Problem remedied."
But as he twirled her around the dance floor, he knew it was only remedied for the time being. He wanted Maia with a force he'd never known. Not even Chloe had tempted him so.
And he was weak.
Hopefully he was strong enough to keep her safe.
Two hours later, Maia found herself at the sweets table with Sheila and Dino, needing sugary sustenance like she'd never needed it before. She inhaled a Nanaimo Bar, savoring its creamy, coconuty, chocolaty goodness.
Sheila grabbed her arm. “He said what?"
"Don't make me repeat it. Oh, God, don't make me repeat it,” Maia murmured. “I swear I'll come right here on the dance floor if I do."
"Something tells me he won't be put off,” Dino commented archly. “Check him out. In his head, he's already eating you up."
Trembling, Maia turned and saw Eric across the room. He leaned back on the bar, propped up on his elbows, and stared at her. At the same time he seemed to be humoring an elderly lady board member who was chatting at him, showing no signs of stopping. She could see the tension in his tight lips and the hard turn to his shoulder. And his eyes were focused only on her, like searchlights meant to illuminate his intense desire for her.
The desire he suddenly seemed unwilling to unleash.
She blinked. Since Eric's hot admission, she'd been a jittery bundle of nerves all night. Enflamed and frustrated at the same time. He made her head spin with all the back and forth action. First he kissed her, and then he ran away. He said he wanted her, but it was complicated. She'd spent the entire evening at his side, dancing and talking and laughing, but there had been sexual undertones all night. A touch here, a soft kiss on her neck there. He'd brushed his arm against her boobs a few times, sending jolts of red-hot fire coursing through her. And each exchange made him look more and more tortured.
Did he know what he wanted at all?
But then Maia watched as he ordered, paid for, and swiftly ingested what seemed to be his third glass of scotch. His eyes, always on her. Burning.
He knew what he wanted.
Good God, she'd never felt so hot! So desired.
But did she really want to be desired by a gorgeous man on a bender? Perhaps it was just the booze talking.
A tall, sexy redhead sauntered by Eric, giving him a pointed look of interest which would have made any man want to rut like a drooling beast. But his eyes were constantly trained on Maia. If he even did see the redhead, it didn't register on his face. Disappointed, the woman walked away.
Maia's head spun. What was wrong with Eric Lord? Couldn't he see all the flawless women in the room? All the very wealthy honeys who'd been fishing for him all night? Maia had never seen anything like it. Each time they'd danced, and he'd danced only with her, some vixen would try to separate them. Each time they wandered about the room, a sexy socialite with plastic boobs and unnaturally pouty lips would hand him her card. A card he'd promptly toss onto a nearby table.
And he'd never taken his eyes off her. Maia Douglas. The one who couldn't walk in heels. The one in the borrowed gown. The one who always had a foot in her mouth. It was unbelievable.
To top off the ludicrous situation, he was acting like a bear. Maia had been pleasantly surprised to see Wally from the cleaning staff at the gala. Cleaners didn't generally show up at these types of functions. But when Wally, who was sixty-five if he was a day, tried to cut in on one of their dances, Eric had almost taken the poor man's head off. Under the pretense of visiting the bathroom later, Maia ended up seeking out Wally instead, to apologize profusely. Thank God the poor guy hadn't been too bothered by Eric's possessive muttering.
She considered Eric as he took another long swig of scotch, wincing at the burn. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Maybe he had a disease or strange affliction. Maybe he had early onset Alzheimer's and was confusing her with a Kardashian.
Mind you, he'd looked pretty healthy when he was naked in her apartment. In his prime and definitely not feeble in any way. And his penis... Maia shuddered and felt her vagina clench in a wickedly delicious response.
Feeling oh-so-scorched, she tried in vain to fan herself with her sequined bag. None of it mattered anyway, seeing as he said he shouldn't be with her.
"Uh-oh,” said Dino. “Jailbait's in the house."
They all turned. Maia watched Sarah enter the room, looking fabulously young and fabulously blonde. Legs up to here and a gown so short they could all tell her waxing preferences. She made a beeline for Eric, with some guy trailing quietly behind her.
Frowning, Maia looked at the man. He was tall and black-haired and devastatingly gorgeous. And seemed so familiar...
"Wow,” said Dino. “All I ask of this life is to have one single date who looks that hot."
"I know,” Sheila concurred. “Sarah's looking pretty awesome."
"I was talking about the guy,” retorted Dino. “Well, even with that hunk on her arm, she's still headed for Eric."
"He's her boss,” Maia muttered. “She has to talk to him.” Even still, she frowned as Eric greeted her with a huge bear hug. Maybe it was a brotherly hug. She didn't comprehend how anyone could have brotherly intentions toward Sarah. Her long legs and perky boobs screamed, “Take me, I'm yours."
Hating herself for doing it, Maia attempted to read Eric's lips. He seemed to be saying something about how lovely Sarah looked. How perfect. How scrumptious. How enticing... She could go on and on. And Sarah was beaming at him.
And then Eric turned to Sarah's date, the mystery man, and shook his hand. Looking very much like he'd met him before. But she didn't pay the man much attention. It was Sarah who bothered her. The sight of her with Eric was a little too much to bear. In five minutes, he'd given his assistant more smiles than he'd given her all night. Than he'd ever given her.
"Okay,” she said to her friends. “Can I just say I really hate how jealous I'm feeling right now? Eric tells me he wants me, but that he shouldn't be with me. Why is it he acts like he's in pain when he's with me, but with her, he's all sweetness and light?” She turned her back on the scene across the room, so annoyed it bugged the heck out of her.
"Aw, honey, there has to be something wrong with her. I'm sure she's just been given those looks to make up for some horrible personality defect,” said Sheila as she patted Maia's shoulder.
"Or Chlamydia,” Dino concurred with a kind smile. “Besides, Sarah's beauty is way too ... obvious. Too accessible. You're more mysterious, and thanks to us, super hot tonight. Eric couldn't keep his hands off you."
"You go, girl,” said Dino. “Ooh, look! Check it out. Sarah and her date are dancing now. And the guy's eating her face."
Maia looked. True enough. Eric had disappeared, but the dark-haired man did indeed look as if he were trying to inhale Sarah through her mouth. But, God, it was sexy! Powerful. Raunchy. Even from across the room, she could see their tongues tangling.
Lord, it made her even more frustrated and horny. She wanted it too, and wondered if she'd washed her hands of Eric's kisses a little too soon.
Where was Eric anyway?
Within seconds of stepping outside into the fresh air to clear his head, Eric knew it wouldn't help. Every smoker from the gala seemed to feel the need for a cancer stick break at the same time. Now he had a boner, his head was pounding from the drink, and his nose was stuffy. He'd never understand the mortal obsession with nicotine. There were much more enticing obsessions out there.
Like Maia.
In a short time, she had indeed become his obsession. And it wasn't good. That was how things with Chloe had started.
And yet, he knew they had never escalated this quickly, even then.
Yes, he'd grown to love Chloe. At least, he thought it was love. Certainly, it was the closest he'd ever come to real love. But, in all honesty, it had been a tad one-sided. He'd been a cad with her. Using her for his pleasure, telling himself he was giving her the ultimate pleasure as well. It hadn't stopped him from fucking every other passing willing female.
Sure, he'd been another man then. A selfish one. But was he really any different now?
He'd promised to make Chloe a goddess, his wife, knowing she so wanted to hear those words. She so wanted to please him. But even before Nemesis started sniffing around, he'd grown bored and told himself Chloe would be fine on her own for a while. And had sunk into a drunken pit of debauched pleasure at one of Dionysus's orgies.