Page 53 of Dirty Husband

Which means she wants me to break and beg for her touch.

I won't. But it will be fun watching her try.

"Miss Lee." Ian stands and offers his hand. "Lovely to see you again."

She shakes. "You too." She sets her purse on the table. Turns to me. "Is it the three of us?"

"No." Ian shakes his head. "A colleague is joining us." His eyes go to his designer watch. "He's late, actually." He looks to me. "Aren't you going to help your fiancée into her chair?"

"Thank you, but I can handle it." Jasmine moves around the table, to the seat next to mine—

I stand. Stop her. "No. Allow me." I take her hand. Pull out her chair. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." Her dark eyes fix on mine. "It was a long day, between the dress, the hair, the makeup." She reaches to her head. Pats her fancy updo. Then the clip. "I'm not sure I'll go through that whole song and dance every time I have dinner. But it was an experience."

"Oh," Ian interrupts. "You don't enjoy pampering?"

"Pampering, yes? Someone tugging my hair—"

"That sounds like a good time," Ian says.

She laughs knowingly, but I can't tell if it's a put on or not. "Yes." She looks to me and raises a brow. "It does."

My balls tighten.

"That is fun. This, not as much. More makeup brushes and hot rollers. I like the end results, but it's a chore getting there. I keep things more practical."

"Impractical is fun sometimes," he says.

Her eyes stay on mine. "Sometimes, yes."

I bring my hand to her waist. Right now, I don't care about Ian. I don't care about convincing Jeff. I don't care about anything but her body against mine.

Which is bad news. The worst news.

I need to stay on task.

I need to win.

My body ignores my protests. Without thinking, I pull her into a tight embrace. Her pelvis against mine, my hands on her hips, her chest raised with inhale.

She looks up at me.

I tear my eyes from her tits. Fuck, I need to push that dress aside. I need to see her, feel her, taste her.

Now.

Her expression gets curious. Unsure. Then she leans into her desire. Or maybe she leans into the fantasy. The pretending.

My eyes close. I pull her into a slow, deep kiss. My lips against hers.

She melts into me, slowly. Her soft lips part for my tongue. She groans against my mouth, inviting me into her body.

It's only a kiss. Only for appearances. But I feel it everywhere.

She pulls back with a heady sigh. Fake or real, I'm not sure. I suppose it doesn't matter. As long as she can convince that bastard.

That's all that should matter.