Page 30 of Dublin Charmer

“May I buy you a drink?” I gesture to the blackjack dealer, signal that I’m out, and grab my chips off the bumper.

She glances back at Gravely, who’s now surrounded by sycophants celebrating his winning streak. “I should get back...”

“A dance, then,” I press, holding out my hand. “It’s almost midnight. Everyone deserves a dance partner for the new year.”

Something flickers in her eyes—suspicion, interest, calculation—but whatever misgivings she has, she dismisses them. When she places her hand on mine, a sultry smile warms her lips. “All right. One dance.”

I lead her to the dance floor as the jazz quartet transitions to something slower, more intimate. When I place my hand on the small of her back, it feels like touching a live wire. She fits against me perfectly, like a puzzle piece I didn’t know was missing.

“Do you come to events like this often?” she asks, studying my face. “You seem very comfortable in this environment.”

“It’s certainly not my first time in a tux. In fact, it’s not my first time this week.”

Her lips curve into a half-smile. “A man of means then?”

I chuckle. “I do all right.”

We move together effortlessly. For someone who spends her days hovering over a keyboard, she dances beautifully. Each step and each turn flow naturally. As if we’ve been dancing together for years.

“You’re very graceful,” I murmur.

“So are you.” Her eyes narrow slightly. “What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.” I spin her gently, bringing her back closer than before. “Does it matter? The whole point of the masks is to inject a little mystery into the night. I get the feeling you enjoy a little intrigue.”

The song ends, and the host comes over the microphone to say that it’s almost midnight. “Find your special someone and get ready to welcome the new year!”

I wonder for a moment if she’ll try to leave me and return to Gravely for the stroke of twelve. She doesn’t. She looks up at me, swallows, and wets her lips.

An invitation?

The countdown to midnight begins around us. “Ten, nine, eight...”

Her body tenses almost imperceptibly and I splay my fingers against the small of her back, pulling her closer. The moment her hips connect with mine, her reservation seems to melt away and I slide my free hand alone her jaw. Her skin is like silk against my palm and the contact makes the room spin in an almost drunken haze. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

“Five, four...”

“We’re wearing masks. You can’t even see me.”

My heart hammers behind the lapel of my Armani suit jacket as her gaze sears my soul. “Trust me. I see you.”

“Two, one. Happy New Year!”

I glance down into those eyes, dipping my head to dust my lips over hers. Her gloss smells like cherries, and I’ve never been so hungry for the fruit in my life. Stealing the kiss is a mistake, I know that. She’s the enemy and once she finds out who I am, she’ll think I’ve played her somehow.

That’s not what this is. This moment is driven wholly by desire.

Desire to taste her.

Desire to know her.

Desire to possess her body and soul.

I’m not usually a carnal alpha kind of man. With Nyx, I might be in serious trouble.

The moan she lets off is sexy as fuck but only I have the pleasure of hearing it beyond the riotous celebration going on around us. Maybe it’s the allure of the tangling with a stranger or maybe it’s just raw chemistry, but it’s electric.

When I force myself to end the kiss, her irises are blown wide and both of us are a little breathless. It makes what I do next that much more difficult.