CHAPTER ELEVEN
GEMMA
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Sitting on the toilet seat, I stare at the back of the door as if it could burst open at any moment.
Then I press my fingers to my eyelids.
That did not happen. Please tell me I did not flirt with Drew Carrington.
I’ve always had a low tolerance to alcohol, so I should’ve stuck to one glass. Instead, I downed the first one because of nerves and didn’t realize I was sipping as fast as I was while enjoying all the auction pieces and his conversation.
Tropical vacations in luxury resorts, diamonds bigger than my knuckles, private jets...and he seemed to swipe on them all.
I should have said nothing.
But...champagne.
Anthony and I only attended a few, and we certainly only made the minimum expected donation. Being here with Drew is an eye opener. And I don’t mean his wealth. It’s the way his confident shoulders are set, the ease with which he carries himself.
It’s intoxicating.
I’ve never been asked is that all when I’m done with a lover.
I’m no prude, but this man has a sexual potency that is a little terrifying. I want his attention on me, which it is, and yet my instincts are screaming to run a mile.
Not just because we are in business together...I think he would eat me alive. Tonight I seem to be giving away the attraction I have had for him in the past few weeks, and I know tomorrow I’ll wake up and kick myself.
No more champagne.
Still, I want to know. Was Drew hinting at us having sex? Or simply toying with me?
I want him to toy with me.
God! I never should have agreed to come tonight. The dress. The shoes. The entire thing feels...
Seductive.
Flushing, I step out and wash my hands, taking in my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are pink, my lips are too red, and my eyes glossy.
I look wanton, sexual, free.
This is not who I am.
I’m Zoe’s mom. Anthony’s widow. A woman who needs to focus on securing a steady income stream and paying her enormous mortgage. Not flirting with the new owner of the company she was unable to keep afloat.
Ugh.
I need to remember this.
Drew is a man who just blatantly admitted he only ever wants sex and has an array of women he’s pleasured in his wake.
How many women has he fucked?
My eye dips, and I stare at my hands as the water runs over them.
Does he lick their pussies?
God it’s been so long since I’ve enjoyed an orgasm that way. Is he rough, controlling, and patient while he ensures his lover comes?
Does he play a woman’s body like a fiddle, while arousal slams through her every cell, until she can barely breathe and has forgotten her name?
Does he enter her fast?
Thrust hard, taking what he wants?
I bite my lip, my panties becoming drenched, then jump when two women walk in.
Shit.
They smile at me briefly then disappear into the cubicles.
Quickly turning off the taps, I select a towel and dry my hands. There’s no way I can go out there like this, he’ll see my carnal need all over my face. A man like Drew would sniff out an aroused woman who hasn’t had sex in over a year like a starving tiger.
And pounce.
You want him to.
Stepping out into the hallway, I half expect to find him leaning on the wall, but he isn’t, and I’m a little disappointed. When I do find him, he’s chatting to Zander and Sebastian.
I must have imagined it all.
“Are you having fun?” Emily asks, handing me another glass of champagne as a server lowers his tray.
“Yes, it’s lovely.”
I hold the glass but don’t drink it. I’ve embarrassed myself enough tonight.
“That dress is stunning.” Emily runs her hand over her belly.
“How many months are you?” I smile, noticing her bump.
“Just a few.” Emily lifts her glass. “Grape juice. As is yours.”
I almost hug her.
“Oh god. Thank you. Champagne goes right to my head. It isn’t obvious, is it?”
“No.” Emily shakes her head. “Sebastian ordered mine, and Drew asked for one for you.”
He did?
I glance quickly at him and wonder what would make him do that? My brazen answers. Christ, have I made a fool of myself?
His back is to me.
“Do you work together?” Emily asks.
“He purchased my company. My husband’s family business—”
“You’re married?” Emily frowns.
“Widowed.”
“I’m so sorry.” She genuinely looks sad, and I realize Emily is a lovely woman. She’s much younger than me but clearly has a kind heart.
“Thank you.”
I feel Drew behind me and stiffen even though I didn’t see him move. Perhaps it’s his size or his musky scent which is becoming noticeable, but I know it’s him.
I shouldn’t know, but I do.
“Can I have this dance?” Drew circles around me, holding out a hand.
“Are you serious?” I ask, glancing at the violinists and piano accompaniment who are very cleverly playing modern music.
No one else is dancing.
“Deadly,” he rasps, and Emily slips away, taking my glass. “Don’t overthink it. Give me your hand.”
A blast of arousal shoots through me at his dominant order.
Christ.
What is that?
Whatever it is, my body has obeyed before my brain gets the chance to catch up. Drew tucks my arm under his and leads me to the dance floor.
Others join us almost automatically, and we blend easily with other dancers. I see now that he wasn’t worried, knowing we wouldn’t be alone once someone broke the spell.
Drew wraps his arms around me, tugging me against his hard, masculine body, and I only just suppress a moan.
Holy Jesus.
My eyes press closed for a moment as I feel every inch of his frame, wondering just how bad it would be to let this man do naughty things to me.
It has been a year.
I close my eyes, telling myself it’s not being disloyal to Anthony, that I’d want him to find love again.
This is pleasure, not love.
God, what would he think of me? I’m in the arms of a dominant, powerful man in front of New York's elite with drenched panties.
“Breathe, Gemma,” Drew whispers.
“We should go back.”
“To your penthouse?”
“No,” I reply too quickly, lifting my face.
Bad move.
I see what he wants, clear as day. It’s the same thing I want. His eyes are dilated, his nostrils flare, and his jaw muscles flex at my response.
“You can’t flirt with me,” I say.
“I don’t flirt.”
“Well, whatever this is.” I bite my cheek.
“What this is, Gemma...” His voice is husky. “Is two adults dancing who clearly share the same desire.”
“Don’t say desire.” I shake my head, and Drew twirls me out, surprising me.
I slam back into his chest and gasp as I let out a small laugh. “Drew!”
“Gemma.” He smirks cheekily, and I almost die at how handsome he is.
My defenses are dissolving by the second, and this is very worrying. I have to think about Monday.
About the bigger picture.
About who he is.
“We work together,” I remind him, my palm sliding over his tuxedo-covered pec.
“I’m the boss; I won’t fire us.”
The silly fool.
My smile is on my lips before I can stop it.
“Stop,” I shake my head.
“That option has now passed. I want to fuck you so badly my cock is going to snap,” Drew growls in my ear. “Come home with me, and I promise we’ll put this behind us tomorrow and forget it ever happened. One night.”
A shiver runs through me as his hand slides over my bottom.
Oh god.
More. I want him to touch me so much more.
“Say yes.” His voice is even rougher this time. “I will make your sweet pussy purr.”
Oh, my fucking god.
My eyes lift, and he knows what my answer is. I can see it plain as day. Before I can change my mind, Drew takes my hand and pulls me across the room.
We’re stopped.
“Carrington,” an older man says, and I block out his words as my heart slams inside my chest, wondering if this is the moment I slip away and stop us from making a mistake.
Drew squeezes my hand, a warning not to run.
“I will call you next week.” Drew rudely steps around the man.
“Hey buddy, what’s the hurry?” Zander steps into our path next.
We stop dead, and Drew’s hand falters but doesn’t let go. “No hurry, but we’re leaving. An emergency.”
I almost snort out a laugh, but instead I drop my eyes to the floor momentarily.
“Without saying goodbye?” Zander glances at me when I look up, and I force out an innocent smile.
At least I hope it looks innocent.
Probably not.
“Are you well, Gemma?” Zander asks, and that’s when I realize he knows exactly what’s going on.
“Yes,” I squeak, then cringe.
“Move. Leave,” Drew growls.
Oh god. I feel that sound right inside my pussy.
“Don’t think that’s a good idea.” Zander nods at the man standing at the microphone at the front of the room.
“Wha—”
Tap, tap, tap.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the auction is about to begin.”
“Fuck.” Drew rubs his face and maneuvers me so I’m slightly in front of him. His hand lands on my hip, burning with promise. “We need to stay for this.”
I can barely pay attention.
I’m surprised he’s letting a charity auction stop him from taking a woman home.
I don’t think that’s a good idea.
Why was Zander trying to stop us?
Auction after auction is announced as the minutes drag on. Drew wins the luxury Maldives vacation; Sebastian takes home a Tiger Woods golf day and Zander a whisky collection, which is obviously a big deal, but I have no idea why.
“And the final auction of the evening, the Manhattan diamond. This piece is a vintage white teardrop diamond totaling twenty-four carats.”
The image of the necklace appears on the screen behind him, and I find myself hugging Drew’s arm as I let out a soft wow.
I’ll never get to see it again, but I’ll never forget how stunning it was in real life.
“Made is 1973 for actress Mary Monroe, the necklace has been anonymously donated for tonight’s auction, and I’m sorry to say, the winner has asked to remain anonymous.”
The room lets out a round of disappointed ahhhs.
Drew pulls out his phone, checking something on the screen and taps a response. Clearly he wasn’t as enamored by it as many in the room, or perhaps he’s hurrying his driver so we can now leave.
Finally, his eyes dip, the lust I saw earlier still alive and eager.
“We’re leaving,” he tells his friends. “See you tomorrow night.”
“Not me,” Sebastian states, and Drew rolls his eyes.
What was that about?
I give them all a small wave, and Zander watches me over his crystal tumbler.
Drew tugs me through the crowd. “We have one stop to make.”
I have to walk fast, almost running, to keep up with his long strides as we cross the lobby. Suddenly, somewhere in the middle of the room, Drew stops, curses, cups my face, and slams his mouth down on mine.
Holy hell in a handbasket.
Stunned, I grab his arms, my fingers pressing into his thick biceps, and melt into a pool of submission as his tongue sweeps in and devours me.
Oh, my god.
No man has ever kissed me like this.
My toes curl, my core tightens, and the world evaporates from existence as I hang on for dear life.
“Mr. Carrington.” A man in a suit, surrounded by two security guards, steps into our space.
Goddamn them.
While I blink away the blur of chemistry, the moment Drew releases my lips, I watch him take a black velvet box, sign on a digital device, then he leads me away.
When we step outside the building into the night, Patrick makes himself known.
Drew nods at him, turns to face me, opens the box, and I gasp.
He removes the Manhattan Diamond and places the necklace around my neck while my brain tries to work out what is happening.
He bought it?
Drew bid on the necklace and is the anonymous winner?
Oh, my god!
“When I fuck you tonight, I want you wearing only this diamond and your black stilettos. Nothing else.”
Oh fuck.