Does the damsel need rescuing?” came Brant’s rough voice.
She licked her lips, imagined his mouth, then mentally slapped herself for being so weak. He brought nothing but pain, and no matter how good it felt to touch him, he was still the same Brant who’d abandoned her, who’d refused to fight. He had no right trying to rescue anyone when he couldn’t even rescue himself.
White-hot anger surged through her. Yes. That was what she needed, to remember how much he’d destroyed her.
She hated him. Right?
Right. She nodded, like an idiot.
“Was that a yes?”
“Why are you offering?” she countered. “I wasn’t aware I looked like I needed saving.”
“You looked”—his hands wrapped around her waist—“lost.”
Too close to the truth, so close she almost tripped over her feet and slammed against his chest—which would have been bad, since his body had a way of forcing her to forget all the reasons why he was a horrible human being.
Hell, he was about to find out really soon who she was if he kept plowing her through people and objects that she couldn’t see! Why? Why not just this once? Could she be that girl again, the innocent girl getting swept off her feet by one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen? If she closed her eyes she could still see the arrogant smile he’d worn right along with his stunned expression when his pick-up lines hadn’t worked.
Brant stopped and twirled her once, then began dancing with her. “One dance.”
One dance.
She knew it wouldn’t be just one dance, not with Brant. Brant was never satisfied with one of anything.
“But—”
“You know,” he interrupted, his lips caressing her ear as they moved back and forth. “My ego’s taken a bit of a hit, since you seem to want to run in the opposite direction. The least you can do is dance to one song.”
She swallowed past the swelling in her throat; the need to sob against his shoulder and ask him why he left warred with the desire to slap his perfect face and scream at him for abandoning her.
“One song,” she finally said, surprising herself as she closed her eyes and allowed her body to sway to the music. Maybe if she closed her eyes tight enough, she could imagine this was a normal work party, she was still his wife, he was still her doting husband.
She could still see. She still had a baby. Maybe two by then.
Her stomach clenched as her heart flipped so painfully that she let out a rough exhale. And then the damn man started to hum.
Every cell in her body went on high alert as her skin prickled with awareness. Every inch of him was perfect, from his just-shaved chin as it brushed against her neck, to the way his hands embraced hers with such intensity that if she were any other woman she’d think he was swearing never to let go.
Tears filled her eyes.
Please don’t let go. Not again.
Life was cruel—fine, take her sight, take her baby, take her soul mate, but don’t tease her with what it felt like to have everything feel so right again, so perfect, only to have it ripped from her fingertips. The magic of the moment was going to shatter; she waited for the inevitable, for him to realize who he was dancing with. She braced herself for a fight when the smooth-talking guy would go from Jekyll to Hyde.
The last time she’d danced had been at her wedding. With her cheap store-bought dress and the simple white daisies that decorated each table. They served homemade cupcakes.
Brant had said it was the best dessert he’d ever had, and then he’d dipped his finger in the frosting and drawn it across her lips.
Don’t let go.
“I won’t,” he whispered, his lips tickling the outer corner of her ear.
Had she said that out loud?
She must have. Because he clung tighter, his chest pressed against her breasts so hard that they moved like one person.
The song ended too soon. The dream faded right along with the music.
Nikki braced herself for the rejection, for Brant to find another woman that caught his eye—after all, he was notorious for sleeping around with celebrities, models, pretty girls.
And her time was up. The spell was broken.
And she found out a long time ago that he wasn’t the kind of prince who ran after the princess, just like she’d discovered that she wasn’t the type of princess who wanted him to chase her until it was too late. Until the moment was gone.
Sighing, she hung her head and stepped away from him. Sometimes, she thought it was actually a gift that she couldn’t see just how perfect and drop-dead gorgeous his list of women were—at least it salvaged her pride to not have to stare at them in the newspaper and wonder.
“Want to go for a walk?”
“What?” She jerked her head so hard she nearly took out his chin. “Sorry!”
His smile was impossible to see, but his laugh…it was rich, sexy. If she had a choice of hearing his laugh or seeing his smile, she’d choose hearing every single time. There was something about the way his laugh wrapped around her body like a hot electrical charge.
“For a masseuse, you’re kind of clumsy,” he joked.
“Probably because I’m so used to touching giant men with muscles all day long that it zaps the strength and coordination right out of me.”
He froze. “Hmm. How does Cole feel about you massaging all those guys?”
“I’m sure he’s used to it,” she answered carefully, then froze. “By the way, how was the afternoon swim?” Her mind worked a mile a minute.
“Frigid,” he said in a clipped tone. “I think Cole’s way of making it up to me was allowing me to dance with the prettiest girl in the room.”
Her heart clenched. So he did know who she was. So why was he acting nice? Kind, even, especially since after the massage he’d been such an ass.
“Fuck.” Brant’s voice had a sudden rough edge to it. “You know what?” It sounded like he was the one pacing now. “I have an idea.”
She crossed her arms and smirked. Whenever Brant got irritated or wanted to change the subject, he would tug at his hair and say, I have an idea. It seemed some things never changed.
“No Cole.” He was in front of her again, a blur of black. His tuxedo felt expensive on her fingertips, the silk of his jacket smooth. “No past, no future, just now.”
Her lips parted. It was tempting. More than tempting.
“Just now, huh?” she repeated, her chest tight. “And what would be the end goal here?”
“Dancing.” He twirled her, even though the music from the lobby was faint. Another twirl. “Maybe a bit of kissing.”
His lips grazed hers.
With a moan, she returned the kiss, savoring his taste, the taste that haunted her dreams. She was stupid to cling to him, stupid to hang on when she knew what would follow once this cease-fire was over. And yet, when he kissed her again, she met him halfway. Confusion warred with the need to be closer—with the sad fact that the only time she’d ever felt truly beautiful had been in Brant’s arms.
“And if you’re lucky…” he said in a low voice, “I may even get naked.”
“Wow!” Still an arrogant bastard, wasn’t he? “I’m honored.”
“You should be. I don’t get naked for just anyone.”
“You sure about that?”
“Shit, does my reputation still precede me? Even now?”
“Does it matter? Since you said no pasts…” She shrugged. “If your past doesn’t matter, then mine can’t, either, right? Isn’t that how these things work?”
He hesitated and then said, “Is that your way of saying I get to see you naked?”
“Does everything end with us naked?”
“God, I hope so.” He crushed his mouth to hers again, sliding his tongue past the barrier of her lips as her body melted against him.
“Now what?” She reached for him again, trying to focus on his face, even though it was blurry. At least it was there, he was there in front of her, and he wanted her.
And maybe she was stupid for taking him up on his offer.
But it was Brant.
And she’d regret letting him walk away a second time—without experiencing him like this.
Just a girl. And a guy. Having a one-night stand.
What could possibly go wrong?
“Now…” He kissed her hand. “I take off your mask.”
She sucked in a breath and pulled away. Taking off masks was a bad idea. It meant that the spell would break, and even though she knew it probably wouldn’t end well, she didn’t want him to see her face, the face that reminded him of everything they’d lost. “I have a better idea.”
“Oh?”
“It involves blindfolds and duct tape.”
He groaned. “I think I just fell in love.”
Nikki laughed and rolled her eyes. “You do realize I could be envisioning something along the lines of CSI while you’re all Fifty Shades, right?”
“Are you trying to ruin the moment?”
“Take me to your room.” With a boldness that she’d never felt around anyone except Brant, she leaned up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck so that she could feel where his mouth was. Then she licked his ear, blowing over where she’d just licked. “Please?”
“Hell, yes.”
He grabbed her hand and took off in a near sprint. By the time they made it to the elevator, they were both out of breath.
“Fair warning—it’s been a while since I’ve had sex sober,” he admitted casually.
Fair warning—it’s been four years since I’ve had sex at all. And the last time I did—I woke up to you gone. “Hopefully, you don’t suck at it then, huh, Brant?”
“Trust me, that’s one thing I don’t suck at, but I may only last a few minutes before I take you. I’ve been wanting…” The elevator dinged.
“What?” she asked on a swallow. “What have you been wanting?”
“You.”