Filthy Rich

by Dawn Ryder

  “No.”

  A single word had never made her tremble before. For a moment they were locked together in a connection that felt soul deep.

  “Let’s get out of here.” His voice had roughened.

  But she pulled away, feeling exposed and vulnerable. “A little moon madness doesn’t change anything.”

  He tightened his grip on her hand, resisting her attempt to pull free for a moment. Taunting her, really, his eyes glittering with a promise that was unmistakable. It was a subtle threat, one that she didn’t have to deal with because they were surrounded by people. But she knew what he was doing, and part of her refused to ignore it.

  She pushed her hand toward him to break his grip and lifted her arm away. But freedom didn’t fill her with satisfaction.

  Somewhere deep inside her brain, there was the unmistakable hint of enjoyment that he was stronger than her. Both in will and brawn.

  Not that she’d ever admit it to him.

  It horrified her because it was a preamble to surrender, one she knew she had no hope of controlling. The sensation was there, crackling like a fire getting its start. Something glittered in his eyes, confirming that he was able to look straight into her soul and see it. Their moonlight kiss was testimony to the fact that she’d lose her grip on reality in his embrace.

  Distance was the only hope she had.

  The fact that she made it to Sabra’s side without turning her ankle was a credit to how many hours she had trained, because she was on autopilot. The reception was in full swing around her, fresh flowers filling the air with their fragrance, but all she noticed was the lingering scent of Nartan’s skin and how good his hand felt wrapped around her hip.

  She really wanted another taste of him.

  ***

  Nartan wanted to follow her.

  The urge was hard and sharp. He stood for a long moment, feeling it roll through his body. It sharpened his senses, allowing him to pick out the details of the way Celeste lowered her chin to keep her neck from being exposed and the stance she adopted to make certain she had him partially in sight while she fought the urge to look back at him.

  He didn’t need the distraction but couldn’t help but appreciate it. Although “enjoy” was a far better word choice.

  Maybe “eating it up” was more fitting altogether.

  He wanted to taste her again.

  But admitting that brought him face to face with his own boundaries. She wasn’t a hookup, which turned out to be something else he found attractive about her.

  Shit. He liked his life the way he had it. Affairs were like the city bus. There would be another one along if he missed the first one.

  But he didn’t want an affair. In fact, the idea left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  He needed a drink. Before he went back after her.

  Nartan turned and made his way to the lavish bar laid out on the east side of the hangar. No expense had been spared. There was even an ice machine that melted chunks of ice into round balls that rolled around in the martini glasses like huge glass marbles. One of the bartenders slid up in front of him, wearing a black vest and a name tag that bore the company name of a very upscale catering outfit.

  Nartan pointed to one of the whiskys, a very limited-production run that retailed for more than eight hundred dollars a bottle.

  “Neat,” he instructed the bartender. The man shot him a grin as he opened the bottle and poured out a double.

  Nartan turned around with the glass in his hand. He lifted it and let the pungent scent fill his senses as he closed his eyes to clear his thoughts. But there was something else too. A hint of Celeste still clinging to his fingers. He opened his eyes, finding her instantly, the delicate column of her neck catching his attention because she’d swept her hair up.

  He wanted to pull every last pin out of it and gather it in his hand. Bury his face in it and inhale the scent of her skin.

  Like he had last night.

  Nartan took a sip of the whisky instead. He nursed the beverage, using it as an anchor to remain at the bar. He confined himself to women who made the first move because it removed the need for him to comfort them when they realized he wasn’t there for the long haul. He didn’t like to mask who he was during sex. When he took home a woman who had stepped up to him, she didn’t have any right to expect seduction.

  Celeste needed to be seduced. He felt that truth all the way to his bones.

  But all he felt like doing was running her to ground. It was a hard, sharp impulse, just like the bite of the whisky.

  The DJ fired up the music. Tarak swept his bride around the large dance floor with a confidence that earned him smoldering looks from the women in the room.

  Shamus Donovan, Sabra’s father, finally cut in. The white-haired man was still barrel-chested and dressed in a Navy dress uniform. Tarak offered him his hand, but the older man shook his fist at his new son-in-law in a warning that sent a ripple of amusement through the guests.

  The father-daughter dance unleashed a soft round of applause as Shamus glowed with pride while guiding his daughter around the floor. The moment the music changed, employees of Nektosha eagerly flooded the floor to join their boss and make sure they were noticed.

  Nartan chuckled and drew another sip from his whisky.

  Tarak didn’t give a damn about who had laid out the money to fly up to his wedding reception. In fact, the reason it was being held in Alaska was because Tarak didn’t care for schmoozers. His employees were rated on their performance in the workplace.

  Shamus swept Celeste into a dance but abandoned her when the tempo changed. Adele’s husky voice sang out “Set Fire to the Rain,” sending most of the brownnosing crowd toward their chairs. Tarak held his hands up in surrender when Sabra grabbed the front of her long gown and stepped to the beat. She turned around and Celeste joined her.

  Nartan’s whisky ended up forgotten in his hand.

  He was fixated on Celeste. She moved with a sensuality that struck him like a blow to the solar plexus. Every motion was an expression of hunger.

  Sexual hunger.

  She dominated the floor, daring any man in the room to try matching her. It was raw and savage. One of Tarak’s younger VPs slid up to her, and she tossed her head back. The poor fool didn’t know he was already defeated. Celeste’s body language was already dismissing him as she slid around him and rejoined the girls’ group that had formed around Sabra.

  Her ignored dance partner didn’t give up. He kept dancing, moving around the group of women until one of them broke off with him.

  Celeste didn’t give him a second glance.

  But she did catch Nartan watching her. She arched and turned, the music still pulsing through her body as her motions changed. It was almost indiscernible, the thrust of her hips and the arch of her back, as she pushed her breasts out.

  He noticed.

  Would have sworn he felt it yanking him toward her.

  Daring him to try his hand at winning her.

  Desire surged past the barrier he kept his sexual encounters pinned behind. He set the whisky down, uninterested in dulling his wits.

  No, what he wanted was a different sort of mind-numbing experience. He wanted his senses sharp when he connected with her, wanted to notice every last detail of their collision. It went deeper than desire, bordering on craving. That gave him a moment of pause, a red flag going up. He liked having his partners sealed behind a wall of friendly indifference that could be used to shut them out of his thoughts when he wasn’t in the mood for them.

  But his craving for Celeste was already past that boundary. Far past it.

  And he always went after what he wanted.

  ***

  Sweat was trickling down her back and the sides of her face, but Celeste didn’t care. She turned her back on Nartan and focused on the music. The DJ kept the
tempo lively for several more songs. She threw herself into dancing, enjoying the high it gave her. Her heart was pounding, her blood rushing in her ears, and it was almost enough to drown out the feeling of Nartan’s eyes on her.

  Almost…

  The lights changed as the DJ slowed the tempo. Sabra abandoned the group, her face bright with perspiration. She rustled off in a flutter of cream silk and lace. Celeste turned and headed toward one of the glasses of ice water set out on the tables.

  Nartan intercepted her, turning her neatly into his embrace with a fluid motion that stole her breath. One moment she was confidently striding toward the edge of the floor, and the next his arms were closed around her.

  Captured…

  “So…” She ended up with her hands flattened on his chest as he turned her a few more times to keep her pinned. It was done so damned smoothly that she found herself as impressed as she was annoyed. “Is this your dance then?” Her tone had turned sultry, almost like a purr.

  And he did feel just as delicious as she’d felt the night before.

  “Dancing with the maid of honor is one of the best man’s duties.” He smoothed his hand along her lower back, unleashing a torrent of sensation. “My dance.”

  She twisted away from him, unable to quell the impulse. It was just a dance. She should have been able to maintain her composure, but it crumbled like a sand castle at high tide against the sound of possession in his deep voice. She was trembling, instantly vulnerable and on edge.

  Nartan guided her back, sliding his hand along her lower back with a motion that made her suck her breath in. There was far more than arrogance in him; there was a hard presence of dominance. What bothered her most was how it sent anticipation surging through her.

  She wanted to bare her teeth at him. She needed to get out of his arms before she did something impulsive…again.

  “We’ve passed the ceremonial dances part of the event.” She pressed against his chest, making it clear that she wanted to be released. “So…thanks…”

  Nartan’s lips twitched, rising into a grin that was far from friendly. “No bother at all. In fact”—his eyes glittered with promise—“I’m enjoying myself immensely. But not as much as last night.”

  Her mouth went dry.

  There was something about him, something that made her feel like she was poised on the edge of a cliff. He was like a live wire, and the need to scoot back was so overwhelming that she shook with it.

  He was just so hard. His body was big and immovable, and the way he turned her around the floor was downright intimidating because it curled her toes.

  He knew too much about how to use his brawn, too much about how to touch her and send her thoughts scattering.

  She trembled again, fighting the urge to draw her fingertips down his chest.

  Shit!

  Her self-control was dissolving, dropping her on her butt and leaving her at the mercy of her impulses. That idea dragged her down into the failure of her marriage. It was a churning pit of impulses that had cost her dearly when she trusted a man enough to let him into her bed.

  She wrenched out of Nartan’s arms, feeling the parting too damned much, but she shook her head and left. Two couples looked up as she nearly bolted from the center of the floor where Nartan had taken her. The building was too damned hot, so she made her way out one of the huge doorways that was wide enough for a Hummer to fit through and walked toward the far corner of the building. Only after she turned the corner and left the doorways out of sight did she stop.

  She closed her eyes and forced herself to perform a breathing routine she’d learned in marital arts. Her heart slowed, her respiration coming back into a normal rhythm.

  When she opened her eyes, the great expanse of natural wonder didn’t impress her. She was still fighting for control, fending off the attraction that Nartan unleashed in her. She ordered herself to ignore it, but her body was still trembling from his touch. Her blood was hot, her nipples hard; and every bit of self-discipline she’d learned from Master Lee was nowhere in sight.

  “Tarak wasn’t pulling my leg when he said your ex was a prick.”

  Celeste jumped, a startled sound escaping her lips, and whipped around to discover Nartan three feet from her. Her eyes widened, shock filtering through the haze of arousal fogging her brain.

  “He had no business telling you anything about me,” she said. Her temper was nowhere to be found, leaving her sounding like a lost little girl. Which sure as hell didn’t mix well with the way she was fighting the urge to look at his lips.

  Nartan raised an eyebrow. “So you’d prefer I just feel like a total dick when you take off in the middle of a dance, insinuating to everyone watching that I can’t be a gentleman at my best friend’s wedding?”

  Shame threatened to choke her as she realized how her exit must have looked. Heat teased her cheeks but she lifted her chin, realizing it was time to face off with him before she lost any more of her wits. “We already agreed—”

  “Agreed?” he cut in, stepping toward her. “No, honey, we didn’t agree on anything.”

  He was pressing her. She felt him as much as she heard or saw him. Every muscle she had was taunt or quivering. “I made my feelings clear.”

  “You made it clear that you’re afraid to face that ghost. You were just as interested as I was last night.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Are you going to double-dog dare me next?”

  His eyes glittered with hard enjoyment. “Maybe.”

  He closed the gap between them again, but she was too stubborn to heed the warning bell urging her to retreat.

  Like hell she’d back away from him. “We’re a little too old for schoolyard games.”

  “Agreed. I’m interested in playing adult games with you.” He loomed over her. “You’re attracted to me, but it scares you.”

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Your actions tell another story,” he fired back, relentless.

  She drew herself up and planted herself firmly. “Not trusting myself isn’t the same as being afraid of—” She snapped her mouth shut when she realized how exposing her words were.

  “Trust takes time.” Nartan reached out and cupped her elbow. She would have wrenched away from him, but his hold was soft and nonthreatening. Undermining. Like it had been the night before. She had no defense against tenderness. Not even the desire to resist.

  And it sent a shiver down her back.

  “And courage.” His tone was deep and husky.

  The ripple of sensation stunned her. Somehow, she hadn’t realized how lonely she felt, how much she yearned for human contact. She hesitated, held spellbound for a moment, granting him enough time to smooth his hand around her elbow and along her lower arm before sliding his fingers along hers and releasing her. He tightened his fingers into a fist and forced it into his suit jacket pocket. He concealed his thoughts well, but she still saw the tiny signs of strain at the corners of his eyes.

  He wanted to pull her toward him.

  But he didn’t, and that left her open to a new sensation, one she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  Trust.

  Just a hint of it really, but she rolled her lower lip and set her teeth into it as she contemplated the restraint he was employing.

  “I shouldn’t have stomped off the dance floor,” she offered softly.

  He growled softly. “I didn’t follow you out here for an apology.”

  The sun had set and the wind suddenly gusted, raising goose bumps along her bare arms. “So why did you? It isn’t like you’d find it hard to hook up with someone else.”

  She shouldn’t have asked, shouldn’t have laid herself open so completely.

  “Because I liked having you against me.”

  She’d known he’d say that.

  It was like a secret hope, one th
at sent a jolt of enjoyment through her, but slammed into the wall her fears had built.

  “You liked being against me too.”

  Hard certainty flickered in his eyes, driving that bolt of enjoyment into the wall a few more inches. She fingered the fabric of her skirt as she fought the urge to reach for him but at the same time, enthralled with the effect he had on her reservations. He was so tempting until she remembered that she wasn’t ever doing a long-term relationship again.

  “Sabra is my best friend too, so let’s leave each other alone before things get tense.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t get tense over relationships.”

  She found herself recovering her poise. “There’s my point. If I’d accused you of being the playboy type a moment ago, you’d just call me judgmental.”

  He offered her a lazy shrug. “True.”

  He reached out and captured her wrist. Before she finished deciding if she was going to let him keep hold of her, he’d stroked the delicate skin of her inner wrist with his thumb and sent a ripple of awareness across her skin that made her nipples pucker. “There’s a charge between us.”

  There sure was.

  Playing with fire…

  But it was intoxicating in a manner she’d never encountered before. She really questioned if she was tossing away a prime opportunity to get it dealt with. No strings attached, and a pistol like Nartan might be the perfect remedy for her trust issues.

  “We’re not going to connect.” She twisted her wrist and dropped it on the other side of his hand to break his grip and held a finger up to keep him back while she finished her thought. “Because I would be using you to cross a line item off my to-be-dealt-with list. I don’t use people.”

  His eyes narrowed as his lips thinned.

  “Parts of me would really enjoy being used by you…but your point is valid.” He nodded and forced himself to step back a pace. “You should get some…therapy…”

  She offered him a dry laugh. “I don’t need therapy because I’m not interested in a fling with you. It’s called maintaining the integrity of my soul.”