Page 4 of Sweet Deception (Irish Kings #4)

Chapter Four

For some reason, my hand refuses to budge from the small of her back.

Like a mouse caught in a trap, her eyes remain locked on mine, unblinking.

Clearly, she’s afraid of me. Unnerved by our proximity. And yet, she’s not running for the hills.

I almost smile. This woman’s more amusing than she should be.

She seemed so confident when she approached, but her nerves finally joined the party.

It’s obvious she’s trying to escape. If she hadn’t tripped like that, I might’ve let her. But now that she’s back in my embrace, I’m struck all over again by how much I enjoy the feel of her lithe body glued to mine.

Truthfully, I’m completely blindsided by how right she feels in my arms.

The same way I was unprepared for how my protective instincts kicked in when I saw her falling.

What’s the matter with me?

I’m the family’s chaos agent. I destroy and break things.

I don’t protect them. And I don’t protect people outside the Kings.

Especially not a total stranger who’s attempting to play me for a fool.

Despite the thoughts bombarding my mind, we’re spinning in circles once again without uttering a word.

Her eyes say everything.

She’s realized she has no idea who she’s dealing with and would be better off barking up a different money tree. I sense the regret simmering beneath her facade.

I’m expecting her to flee, so shock zaps me when the woman bends her arms beneath mine, settles her hands on my waist, and tucks her face against my shoulder. My heart tugs in surprise.

Just the contact of her fingertips on my hips stirs my long-dormant dick.

And before I can recover from that, she starts to move her hands.

Ever so slowly, she pets my ass, one side followed by the other.

How’s she able to tantalize me by caressing me over my clothes? Who the fuck is she? This woman, who has the gall to feel me up in a crowded room under bright lights…

And I thought I was a fire-starter.

She comes to this wedding as a member of the waitstaff, then changes into that sexy party dress and crashes the reception.

She seizes my attention, even tempts me into dancing with her, then continues to get closer despite her obvious fear.

Now I’m thinking hard about that empty hotel suite with my name on it thirty-some floors above us that’s just waiting for a good time.

This woman… She’s good, I’ll give her that.

Takes guts to try and trap a man like me, and she’s got the right stuff to succeed. Even though I detonated my own heart years ago, something in my chest stirs in her presence.

She’s a grade-A gold digger. That’s for sure.

But something in the way her eyes flit away from mine spurs my curiosity. I want to see more than what’s hidden under that dress.

But damn , if her body isn’t fucking perfect.

In the warm, bright reception lighting, my eyes roam her face, and that’s when I see the faint scar above her left eyebrow, barely visible beneath her makeup.

Something about that small imperfection in her otherwise flawless mask intrigues me more than it should.

That one little mark hints at damage, at some kind of pain that she overcame and carefully conceals. And I can’t help but wonder what happened to her. Where has she been? What has she been through?

Her head remains tucked firmly against my chest. I like it there too much, so I immediately pull back and tilt her face up toward mine.

The fear in her eyes satisfies me.

Deep inside this smoking-hot body, she really is a dainty little mouse.

I rub the delicate tip of her chin with my rough thumb and watch the color come to her cheeks, her gray, gold-flecked eyes frantically searching my face.

“Would you like to continue our evening somewhere more private?” The question flies from my mouth despite my better judgment, and my low, almost intimate tone startles me.

I’m acting like she’s already mine. Like she belongs to me.

Our evening. Like we’re on a date.

Man, I’m being chaotic right now, even for me.

I’m even more shocked when I see genuine temptation glimmer in her eyes. Not the fright of a timid mouse. Not the usual wary caution my reputation commands. Not the intimidation my demeanor incites. Not even the delight and triumph of a woman in search of a conquest.

Desire stares back at me.

Hot, liquid, pulsating desire.

Desire for me .

That sight throws me even more off-kilter.

When she starts nodding, slow and defeated, I smile for real. Nothing disingenuous about it. She started this game, but I’m winning.

She doesn’t know this, but winning is one of my favorite things.

Without another word, I get my hand on her lower back, and we’re gone, floating through the wedding crowd toward the exit.

I salute the guards in front of the doorway, and they step aside, pulling the doors open for us as we depart for my room.

Dark, victorious delight tickles my insides.

I can’t wait to see what this woman’s like away from all this mayhem. Wild, crazy, morbid excitement surges through me.

But I don’t analyze any of that.

Because, really, how much trouble can one gold digger be, as long as I go in with my eyes open? Just before we slip out of the ballroom, I glimpse my grinning father out on the dance floor. He gives me a thumbs-up, and that’s how I know I’m acting crazy.

Donal Gallagher is never this proud of his son.