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Timothy staggers to his feet, his face still flushed red with sweat dripping down his forehead. He points to Jack. “Y-You can’t do that. You aren’t an Anderson.”

“He can, and just in case there’s any confusion, I’ll repeat what he said.

Your membership is revoked, effective immediately, and I don’t recommend bringing in the lawyers, or else you’ll have to deal with my family and I’m sure we can out-lawyer you.

” Ryland Anderson steps up and signals a few security members to drag a screeching Timothy away.

“Nobody gets away with treating me like this, Kingsley. Fuck you, your family, and your whore!” Timothy roars as he disappears from the room.

Steven growls and darts toward the man, looking like he’s ready to finish his threats.

Jack grips his arm and holds him back. He murmurs something to Steven, who slowly relaxes and is now straightening his suit jacket as best as he can, his face completely devoid of emotion, appearing very much the King of Wall Street I met nine months ago in the conference room.

Ryland’s gaze skates over to me and I mouth, thank you. His lips tilt up in acknowledgment before he and Jack stride away, disappearing into the crowds, no doubt to perform some damage control, leaving Steven and me behind in the corner of the room.

“Don’t you dare say I’m mistaken, Grace,” Steven grits out, his gaze pinning me in place. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

The pounding beats in my chest are now a war chant and all the nerve endings on my skin come alive. My chest lifts and falls rapidly as my breathing grows erratic, and I watch him prowl toward me, each step slow and measured.

“Steven, I…”

“What happened to you, Grace? Why did you disappear?”

My feet back up toward the wall behind me.

“Why are you here?” he rasps, his eyes darkening, his pupils flaring.

Three steps away.

“Why are you dressed like this? ”

Two steps away.

“Why did you leave me ?”

His words break toward the end. The anguish in his voice is a sharp knife to my bleeding chest, ripping my breath away.

He’s right in front of me and I peer up at him, watching those pupils overtake his irises like the nighttime sky swallowing the moon. His breaths mingle with mine, and his fingers drag up my arms, eliciting a tremble from me.

My lips part as my voice continues to elude me.

I can only stare helplessly at him, watching him fill my vision, my body softening under his as he presses me against the wall, and I realize he has backed me into a small alcove out of sight from most patrons.

His heat surrounds me, obliterating any rational thought.

Steven’s head dips, his gaze darting to my lips before returning to my eyes. He rasps, “I should’ve done this that night on your doorsteps.”

Before I can even process those words, his hands clutch my face, and he slams his lips to mine.

His kiss is savage. Possessive. All-consuming.

He breathes life into my lips as he steals pieces of my soul away with each swipe, each suction. Groaning, he bears down on my body, no distance separating us, and a desperate ache forms in my sex as the last vestiges of rational thought fall away.

Moaning, I bring my hands to his neck, my fingers digging into the thick, soft strands of his hair, gripping it, tugging it.

He groans as he deepens the kiss and thrusts his tongue inside me, tasting me like I’m a wine he can’t get enough of.

His steel erection digs into my stomach and wetness seeps through the thong I have on.

My hips gyrate of their own accord, my body rubbing against his hardness and he grunts in pleasure or pain.

“Fuck me, Grace. Your lips taste just like I thought they would. Sweet. Addictive. Unforgettable. Just like you. God, the things I want to do to you,” he rasps as we part for air .

Before I can respond, he pulls me under the sea of pleasure again, his teeth tugging and biting my bottom lip, sending sharp currents of pleasure straight to my clit.

He angles my face and traces kisses down my jaw, sucking at the sensitive pulse points in my neck, his hand skating up and grazing the hardened nipples thrusted out from my dress, needing his attention.

“Steven, oh my God,” I whimper as he plucks one of the beaded points over the fabric.

“Yes, Grace. Fuck, you’re so sweet. You fucking drive me insane . I’ve gone mad without you. I don’t know why the fuck I ever thought we could be friends. Grace, do you want me the same way I want you? Tell me you do.”

He releases my nipple and moves onto the other side, and I melt against him, my thighs clenching, unable to relieve the building pleasure between my legs.

I need him. I need these clothes off our bodies. I need his cock inside me. If we weren’t in public, I’d—

The thought is akin to a foghorn roaring next to my ear.

We’re in public and anyone can walk in and see us.

The noises of the casino games rush in like a howling hurricane and I push him away, my lungs desperate for air. He looks stunned, his eyes glazed over, pupils blown. His lips are swollen—I must’ve bitten him back in the throes of passion.

Steven makes a grab for me again, and I tear myself away from him, and make my escape from the room, keenly aware of dozens of eyes trailing after me.

“It’s not over, Grace!” he hollers at my fleeing back.

And I have a feeling life as I know it will never be the same.