Page 8 of Sweet Deception

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.

Butdamn, 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 evenmoreshocked 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 forme.

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.

Chapter Five