There’s a metaphor for life in there somewhere, I thought and allowed myself a tiny smile.
“Where’d you learn to dance?” I asked as we circled the dance floor.
“I’ve gone to many balls.”
I blinked at him, thinking he was joking, but he looked completely serious. “Balls? Like Cinderella balls?”
Julian drew me tight against his chest, and when he spoke again, his warm breath tickled my ear. “ROTC. Military.”
“Ah,” I murmured softly. “I see.” I tried to imagine Julian dressed in formal military attire, dancing the waltz with his sweetheart, and for some reason, that image didn’t sit too well with me.
“What was it like?” I asked. “Being in the army?”
His grip tightened around my waist and a new silence coalesced around us as we circled the floor. In time, he said, “It changed me.” His fingers pressed into my spine. “I used to be cold. Hardened by what I saw…”
“And now?”
“Now I don’t want to be the kind of person who’s so concerned about being unaffected…” He paused, as if searching for the right word. “Unmoved by life.”
I realized with a jolt that he could also be talking about me.
“Life is moving, don’t you think?” He took a slow breath before continuing. “A moving thing to experience.”
His words surprised me in both substance and delivery. It was earnest. Heartfelt.
Before I could dwell on it any further, the song ended and we coasted reluctantly to a standstill.
A beat passed. Then another.
Julian remained perfectly content to silently stare at me.
For a moment, neither of us breathed as his gaze lingered on my lips.
It was pulsing between us, the sexual energy reaching for each other, seeking to entwine. Rivers of heat spread through my breasts, and I felt that pull, that deep desire, that almost palpable hunger behind his stare, but I wasn’t willing to look away.
Then Julian drew in an unsettled breath, as if I’d caught him off guard.
In the next moment, the DJ announced it was time for the dreaded and awkward Secret Santa gift exchange. All the colorfully wrapped presents were sitting under the tree, and people were starting to converge around it to retrieve their gifts.
I inhaled sharply, almost dizzily, as Julian’s gaze burned into me. “So…” I forced myself to smile. “I guess I’ll see you later.” Abruptly, I turned from him and strode away, putting some needed distance between us.
Even walking away from him, I could feel the weight of his gaze on my back.
Shit, I thought. There’s no question in my mind that he knows… He knows how I feel about him and what he does to me.
It took me a couple of minutes, but I eventually found my gift, which was haphazardly wrapped in newspaper with my name scribbled on the front in red marker.
By the time I joined Rochelle at her table, she’d already had her gift unwrapped.
As I pulled out a chair and sat down, Rochelle held up her gift and rolled her eyes at me. “Ho! Ho! No, they didn’t! Someone thought it’d be funny to get me barbeque-scented candles.”
I laughed. “Why would you want to smell flowers when you can smell barbeque ribs twenty-four-seven?”
“Re-gift pile,” she said. “Now what about you? What’d you get?”
“Well,” I said, “let’s find out.” As I tore into the wrapper, I could feel Tim and his pack of rowdy friends silently watching me, their daggered eyes boring into my back.
A cold rivulet of apprehension trickled across my shoulders and goose bumps unfurled along my arms.
But alas, it was too late.
I’d already unwrapped the gift to reveal a box of leather bondage cuffs—ankle and wrist restraints—along with a studded leash.
I turned in my seat, and Tim raised his glass at me, his mocking tone setting my teeth on edge. “A perfect gift for a woman who likes to be in complete control.”
The men at his table roared their approval at the show, and more than a few curious glances drifted in my direction. I suddenly felt like I was in one of those dreams where you show up to class naked.
My stomach lurched while I struggled to keep my poker face.
Rochelle laid a hand on my shoulder. “You all right?” Her voice barely penetrated the fog suddenly surrounding me.
Anger burned down my throat. I swallowed, striving hard for composure while managing a curt nod.
Rochelle’s expression turned stern. “You want me to take care of that pond scum? He’s just a pussy who hides behind his entourage of man-boys. He needs to grow some fucking hair on his balls.” When I remained silent, she hesitated. “Hey. You sure you’re okay?”
My heart was hammering in my chest, but I forced a slow, dismissive smile to my lips. “I’m fine.”
Meanwhile, the men at Tim’s table were still chuckling with glee.
“C’mon.” Rochelle’s voice was gentle, coaxing. “Let’s go outside. Get some fresh air.”
“No!” The force of my refusal surprised us both. I couldn’t bear to feel weak and frightened in front of Tim. “I’m all right,” I said. “Really, I am.”
While I’d become the immediate object of ridicule, Tim was enjoying every second of it. His perverse pleasure was tangible as he chewed on his puffy lip, watching me with unsuppressed mirth, like he expected me to crumble to pieces or bolt—likely both.
But if Tim thought he could throw me off balance, I wouldn’t let him. I refused him the satisfaction.
Whatever Tim expected me to do, I intended to do just the opposite.
Like all holiday parties from the previous years, cringe-worthy karaoke followed the Secret Santa gift exchange. Taking a steely breath, I marshaled every fiber of inner strength I possessed and forced myself into a state of calm.
Then I stood and weaved my way through the maze of tables, mounted the steps up to the stage, and asked the DJ to play Somebody That I Used to Know.
Gotye was a master of addicting hooks and melodies, and that song, with its psychedelic mixed harmonies and beats, was one of my all-time favorites.
I stepped up to the mic, and my gaze tracked over the tables and the people milling about the floor, landing at last on Julian, who was standing alone in a corner.
He pinned me with his stare, encouragement and warmth dancing in his eyes.
Then the DJ dimmed the lights and a sort of soporific mood descended upon the room. It did little to help my nerves, and I took a deep breath, filling my lungs like I hadn’t taken a full breath in weeks.
The intro music started playing, and my hands were shaking so hard that I clasped them around the mic stand in an attempt to steady myself. Soon, the lyrics appeared on the monitor, and I heard my voice quivering on the first two lines. As the song progressed and the tempo picked up, my voice rang out with more confidence, more strength, and more clarity.
Then the tone shifted, and I stopped watching the words scrolling across the monitor, and allowed myself to look out into the crowd. Rochelle was bobbing her head to the beat. Riley and some girls from the creative team were shimmying their hips. The men at Tim’s table who’d been talking amongst themselves stopped mid-conversation, their attention riveted to the stage. Even Les Heinrich, the senior partner at the firm, was rapping his knuckles against the table.
I smiled, feeling invigorated.
By the time I reached the chorus, my confidence soared, the adrenaline spiking through my veins. Letting my eyelids drift shut, I poured my heart and soul into every word I sang, the emotions raging over me like a windstorm of resonating sounds… anger, anguish, despair, swaying with the beat, painting my voice with all the pain and heartache the lyrics evoked.
When finally the music stopped, I opened my eyes to find Julian staring at me from across the room. The deep and dark intensity in his stare stilled my heartbeat.
Though he was standing in a corner and his eyes were partially hidden in the shadows, I felt them as surely as an
y touch.
No, not just any touch… a touch that felt almost like a brand against my skin.
Chapter Six
Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, and our gazes locked, connecting across the room.
She was panting and her hair had started to loosen from her ponytail, tendrils clinging to the dampness of her overheated skin. A trickle of perspiration trailed down the side of her neck, and my cock twitched at the thought of letting my tongue trace that salty trail right down to her heaving breasts.
I swallowed with a dry throat. Bedroom pop—that was the track Sadie had chosen. She looked flushed and a more than a little disheveled, like she’d just spent the night in bed, fucking.
To bedroom pop.
Mesmerized and utterly captivated, I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off her.
Everything about her performance had aroused me.
The spare, slow build of the song and the raw and honest lyrics put the focus on her vocals. And every single note she sang was emotionally charged, almost as if the feelings were being evoked from a memory.
Hot desire had pulsed through my body. I responded to her smoky, sexy voice, my cock stirring with each of her cutting pleas. I wondered if that was how she moaned during sex.
And the way her lips had caressed the mic, her mouth moving seductively with each verse.
The way her hips had swayed back and forth to the hypnotizing beat.
The way she’d tilted her head to one side so her soft bangs fell across her eyes.
Eyes that had been closed as if she were in total rapture as her voice unfurled, raw and sultry, gritty and intoxicating, weaving layers upon layers through the music.
God, I was so fucking hard I’d almost groaned out loud as her smoky voice melted on that final note like caramelized sugar.
Then the music had stopped. Sadie opened her eyes and caught me eye-fucking her from across the room.
Now I was staring at her so hard I might as well be inside her.
She faltered slightly as if she were aware of my reaction to her. Then she quickly recovered and stepped off the stage.
While the DJ started spinning the next track, Sadie made a beeline for her table, grabbed her gift box off a chair, and marched right over to Tim’s table.
When Tim realized he had an audience, his dark gaze burrowed into her. Mocking. Challenging.
Sadie squared her shoulders and lifted her chin defiantly, her blue eyes wide and unblinking. Fearless. Dignified, maintaining that poise that came so easily to her.
I listened in amazement as she thanked Tim for the gift. When he opened his mouth and tried to speak, Sadie immediately cut him off. “I plan on keeping the cuffs, but I’m sure your wife will think you look good at the end of this leash. So here—” She chucked the leash at him. “You can have it. It’s too bad your wife’s not here. If she were, I’d tell her to shorten it.”
Sadie tilted her head daintily, but the smile on her face was as brittle as glass.
It was more than a slap in the face. It was a fuck you to Tim.
And a not-so-subtle one at that.
Tim reared back in his chair, his bug eyes darting right and left as a rumble of guffaws broke out at the table. Now his own group of unruly friends was laughing at him.
Poetic justice. Tim threw Sadie to the wolves, and she returned the leader of the pack.
And that look on Tim’s face was priceless. Whatever games were being played here, Sadie was a master at them and Tim would do well to remember that.
Meanwhile, Sadie continued to hold her head high, squarely meeting the glances of every man at the table that dared to look at her. Then she pivoted on her heels and strode off.
“You’re a bitch!” Tim called after her retreating back.
Sadie stopped. Then she turned and speared him with a look, her expression so mutinous, her manner so chilled I was surprised frost didn’t appear beneath his feet. “Yes,” she said acidly. “But not yours.”
Another roar of laughter erupted at the table.
I watched her as she made her way toward the exit. She didn’t hurry. She kept her head held high, striding with determined steps.
I managed to catch up with her in the front lobby. The music and laughter from the ballroom, along with the clink and tinkle of champagne glasses, floated away in the vast and quiet expanse.
As I continued to follow her through an arched doorway, the sound of a tiered water fountain filtered up to me, echoing off the neo-Gothic stonework.
I kept a distance, my eyes fixated on the way her dress dipped in to a deep V, baring her smooth and graceful back, the silky fabric hugging her pert ass.
In the semi-darkness of the long hallway, I drank in her tempting curves.
Abruptly, Sadie stopped under a wrought iron lantern and leaned against a wall.
My footsteps slowed as I neared her. I held back, watching her in silence.
The candlelit lantern illuminated the air around her. I could see that her eyes were closed and she was focusing on breathing in the echoing hall.
Slow, deep, measured breaths.
I longed to be beside her, to caress her face, to kiss, ever so gently, her quivering eyelids.
But as much as I wanted to breach the distance between us and comfort her, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
It would be too much like an invasion. This felt like a private moment, and I didn’t want to intrude.
It was clear she needed a moment to gather her wits, to compose herself.
I realized it must be a constant struggle. How much it took out of her to maintain that icy façade. She was always so pulled together that I’d simply assumed her poise came so easily to her.
But in this moment, it felt like it didn’t. Not that easily, at least.
Seconds passed. She must have sensed someone was watching her because she whirled around. A brief flash of pain appeared in her eyes, but it went away so quickly I was hardly certain I’d seen it.
Her shoulders tensed, and I approached slowly, afraid she would bolt. “I didn’t realize you’re one of those people.”
She straightened herself and cleared her throat. “What do you mean?”
I lifted a single eyebrow, my mouth quirking with humor. “One of those people who’d staunchly insist, ‘NO! NO! I can’t sing. I couldn’t possibly go up there. NO! NO! I WON’T. Oh, all right, give me the damn mic!’ And then you’d be elbowing people out of the way to get on stage.”
Her face began to relax and her eyes gleamed with laughter. “Honestly, it’s the first time I’ve ever done something like that. Usually, I only sing in the shower.”
“I do, too,” I told her. “Sometimes, I even perform in the shower.”
To this, she merely canted her head slightly and smiled.
As she started walking down the corridor, I fell into step beside her. “Yeah,” I said. “When the curtains are drawn and the water’s on full blast, I can morph into a heavy metal superstar, a rap mogul, or pop diva.”
“Pop diva, eh?” She pressed her lips together. “Which one?”
“Cher. I’m old-school like that.”
She just shook her head slightly as if to say, You’re so full of it.
After a pregnant pause, I said, “You were really good, you know. Ever thought of joining a band?”
“Only if my bathtub can fit that many people. As it stands, it can’t.”
When we reached the end of the hallway, I held the door open, gestured for her to exit first, then joined her as she stepped out into the balmy night.
The dim light of the pale moon cast everything in shades of silver and gold.
A kind of destiny filled the air, especially striking after the dance we shared and the conversations we had.
“Are you okay?” I asked as I walked her to her car.
“Yeah, I can drive.” Her voice came out cool and collected. “I only had one glass of champagne.”
“I meant… about what happened back there.”
<
br /> “I’m fine.” She released her breath in a rush. “I can handle Tim.” Although she kept her face serene and composed, I noticed the faint trembling in her fingers before she tightened her grip on her satin clutch.
Her feistiness, her inner strength, her mettle drew me to her. And I wanted her to know that. “You’re one tough cookie, Sadie. It’s one of the things I admire about you.”
She was quiet for a heartbeat before she turned to me, wearing a curious expression. “But you don’t know me.”
God, she took my breath away when she looked at me like that, the sight of her literally pinching my airways. “I want to, though.” I willed her to see that I was serious about her.
Something in my face must have convinced her, because the iron grip she had on her clutch relaxed somewhat.
“Listen, Sadie.” I held her gaze steadily. “Can we be friends?”
A smile curved the corners of her generous mouth. “No. But we can pretend.”
“I don’t want to pretend.”
“We work together.” She shrugged my words away, but I detected a shade of lingering behind those ice-blue eyes. A tiny thaw. “Isn’t that enough?”
I didn’t respond, and her question hung in the air between us.
We continued in silence and came to a slow halt in front of her silver Jetta.
Sadie fished her keys out of her clutch, and I waited until she’d slid into her car before asking, “Is it okay if I call you? Or maybe text you?”
Her gaze locked onto mine and she didn’t speak for a long moment until I began to wonder if she would answer at all. “Why?” she said finally.
The moon slipped behind a cloud and a night breeze shifted in, bringing with it a cold gust of air from the Pacific Ocean. “Why what?”
“Why me?” She gazed at me, her expression reserved but interested. “I’m a lot more work than other women.”
In the streetlight, her eyes were a brilliant blue, the color at the center of a flame—the hottest and most intense part of a fire. Much like the woman herself.
“I think you’re worth it,” I told her, and in true Sadie form, she studied me a moment longer, then nodded her assent, fully secure of her worth.
Julian's Pursuit Page 5
