Page 51

The adrenaline, which had coursed through her system when she thought of Noah, suddenly drained out of her. Nausea churned in her belly. Taking several deep breaths, she forced herself to straighten her spine.
Raise her chin.
Move.
Fuck Noah.
Fuck Warren.
Fuck every last man on earth?—
Firm, merciless hands grabbed her waist the moment she stepped out of the washroom. Before she could blink, she was dragged through a dim archway and into an empty, smaller ballroom.
Adrenaline shot back into her system.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
Noah didn’t stop. He slammed his hand against a door that opened onto a wraparound balcony on the south side of the sprawling hotel. It had been converted from a pseudo-Frenchchateau, and the clever design of the building allowed them to see into the gala ballroom but offered privacy unless anyone stepped out onto the balcony.
To one side, a set of wide stairs led down to the private driveway and beyond it to extensive gardens complete with intricate mazes and manicured lawns.
He trapped her against a stone pillar, hands braced on either side of her head.
She’d forgotten just how utterly devastating he looked in formal attire. Now, towering over her, with his shoulders blocking out the world and those eyes fixed squarely on her, her breath caught all over again. Her nipples hardened into tight, painful nubs and her sex throbbed to life.
She shouldn’t be feeling this way about him. Not when he planned to fuck someone else tonight?—
“What the fuck happened to your wrist?”
She’d seen Noah angry, but the furious intensity in his eyes was unlike anything she’d experienced before.
“Do you care?” She couldn’t resist throwing his words from last night in his face.
Some desperately anguished part of her wanted him to remember last night. To remind him of how incredibly soul-shaking their mutual self-pleasuring had been. How primitive and visceral he’d been, leaning against that wall, stroking his cock. God, yes. He had to remember because no amount of bravado could disguise the knowledge that she couldn’t bear him moving on so quickly.
“Tell me how you hurt your wrist, Leia.”
“Who is that woman?” she blurted.
He frowned. “What woman?”
“The redhead.”
His hand slashed through the air in arrogant dismissal. “She’s nobody. Your fucking wrist, Leia.”
“I was sparring with Warren this morning… He grabbed me…”
His mouth worked for several seconds without any sound emerging. Then he crouched until he was eye level with her. His cobalt-blue gaze drilled into her. “Snyder did this to you?”
Pulse racing, she pressed her lips together.
He cupped his left ear and leaned closer. “I didn’t catch that, sweetheart. Did. Snyder. Do. This. To. You?” His voice dripped with lethal ice.
“Yes.”
He straightened slowly and rocked back on his heels. One corner of his mouth lifted and Leia’s heart stopped. He took several steps into the ballroom before she realized his intention. Pushing away from the pillar, she grabbed his arm.
“Noah, wait.”