14. Brooklyn
brOOKLYN
Someone needs to remind me ASAP why I can’t jump my fiancé.
He looks so drop-dead sexy in his gray Armani tux that my thong just got instantly soaked.
Luka adjusts his tie in the entryway mirror, his legs spread apart as he commands his space with sexy, masculine grace.
I watch his hand as he works the knot in his tie, recalling those strong fingers near my mouth as he fed me cake.
How I’d wanted to wrap my lips around them and suck the frosting off.
How it had taken all of my self-control to act like I wasn’t interested.
He turns to look at me as if he can read my thoughts, his hand falling slowly away from the base of his throat. Silently, he fully faces me, and a wicked grin transforms his face into pure, unadulterated playboy.
I enjoy the appreciation and desire on his face.
I’d chosen my outfit for Danica Rose’s official launch party very carefully.
We’d talked briefly about matching in some way to show off how in love we are and all that, so I’m wearing a silvery gray silk halter dress with a plunging neckline, balanced by a floor-length hem and a single slit that goes up one thigh.
Side by side, I’m sure we’ll look like the perfect pair. We’ve decided to be that couple.
It’s good not only for our image, but for DRM’s as well.
We’re the united front of a new chapter in the Zoric empire’s story.
One with a brand new name and a brand new set of faces, that doesn’t include Konstantin and the stain he created.
Tonight is all about the company moving forward, with Luka and me at the helm of its publicity shift.
This is our first major public appearance since the engagement was announced, though, and I’m practically buzzing with nerves.
The unabashed hunger in Luka’s eyes makes my stomach clench even harder.
I can’t hold back the grin that tugs at my lips.
I’m glad he’s having such a strong reaction to me.
Christ, it was all I could do to hold back at the cake tasting the other day.
Teasing him hadn’t been entirely intentional then…
but now? I’ll admit I’d chosen this dress because I knew he’d love it.
I also left my hair straight tonight so it falls to my waist, begging to be touched. Perfect cat’s eye liner and nude lips let the subtle sheen of my curve-hugging outfit take center stage.
“You’re drooling,” I scold Luka with a smile as I approach him on four-inch heels. I may want to keep a wall between us sexually, but it’s still fun to be lighthearted with him.
“Can you blame me? Come here and let me get a better look at you.”
I hesitate to get too close. If he touches me, I’m going to give in to what my body wants so much.
I stop a few feet in front of him and do a slow turn while tossing a sultry look over my shoulder.
His fingers flex as if he’s holding himself back from reaching out.
Breaking through his hesitation, he skims his fingers down my arms, causing tingles to race over me.
“Stunning. Look how well we match.”
He gestures for me to stand before the mirror with him.
I have to get right next to his body to do so, but I’m curious…
I want to see us. Tossing back my hair, I position myself beside him and temper my urge to lean into his touch as his hand skates across my lower back and comes to rest at the curve of my waist. He pulls me closer against his side until we’re touching hip to hip.
I hold my breath for a fraction of a second and look at our reflection.
Luka’s tall muscular body, dark tousled hair, and intense green eyes do nothing but complement my sleek stature and Mediterranean coloring. We match, but not in a sticky-sweet way—more like an elegant couple on the cover of some elite European magazine.
He catches my gaze in the glass and a pulse of sexual electricity sparks between us. He begins to turn toward me, and I watch him like he’s in slow motion. I’m caught in the push and pull of desperately needing him to touch me, and just as desperately needing to prevent it.
“Luka, I—”
His phone goes off, startling us both. He works his jaw and then steps away to pick up the call with a low growl. After he says a few tight words, he hangs up.
“The limo is downstairs,” he informs me.
“Better not keep it waiting,” I say, relieved that we’re out of time to fool around.
I rearrange my clutch in my other hand so I’m free to take the arm he offers. My eyes work back up to his after taking another sweep of his exquisite body in that tux, and then I’m leaning against him as we head down in the elevator.
Every moment with him is charged. My heels make a determined clip across the lobby floor, the steady sound reminding me that I’m doing this for show. My fiancé looks incredible, and I know the attraction is mutual, but giving in to temptation would only muddy the waters.
He sits close in the limo and makes small talk about the event, but I’m too busy watching his lips move and daydreaming about his talented tongue to pay much attention. By the time we reach the swanky hotel venue, I’m so aroused that it takes all my will not to crawl into his lap.
Clinging to Luka, I walk into the Art Deco-style bar that’s been rented out for the night and into a roomful of people I’ve never met. Heads turn to watch us, and the female whispers start immediately, some not bothering to temper their volume as gossip gets tossed around.
A chill goes down my spine as I realize the sheer volume of eyes on us.
I’m sure our engagement has brought out a mix of jealousy and shock in more than a few people who’d hoped to gain something from Luka in the near future.
For instance, the stable of attractive women he’s left behind—many of them circling us like sharks in this room right now.
“Everyone’s staring,” I tell Luka through a clenched smile.
“That’s because you’re the belle of the ball,” he says, his voice low and smooth. But it does nothing to calm my anxiety.
I’m the centerpiece in a room full of gorgeous, sophisticated models who have no qualms about eyeing my fiancé with lusty knowing in their expressions.
For the past hour, I’ve been trying to remind myself why I shouldn’t jump into bed with Luka, but now the reason hits me full force as we stroll through the glittering crowd.
I hear what they’re whispering behind our backs. I see how they look at him. At me. Their looks are smug, or pitying, or amused.
I’m surrounded by women that have all slept with my fiancé.
It’s a sickening feeling to realize there probably isn’t a pussy in this room that he hasn’t been inside. He glances down at me with an encouraging smile that I might find endearing if I wasn’t suddenly so uncomfortable…and so angry. Everyone here thinks I’m a joke.
“Don’t be nervous.” He squeezes my arm encouragingly. “Our job is to tell people how glad we are to see them, smile for the cameras, and duck out as soon as possible. Sound okay?”
“Sure.” I lift my chin and don’t return his gaze. “Let’s just get it over with.”
“Ah, so you are nervous,” he says, misinterpreting the edge in my voice. “Let’s get you a glass of wine, then. It’ll help you loosen up.”
A snappy retort goes down my throat as I hold it in, hyperaware of every female here.
I can’t ignore the way they look at Luka like they’re hungry, how they tilt their heads together to whisper and laugh.
I’ve never been one to let gossip get to me, but this feels different.
Heat tingles along my hairline and my body feels like it’s slowly pressurizing.
Glancing around, I tighten my grip on Luka’s arm as we head to the bar.
Music thumps and vibrates through the room.
I catch a glimpse of a redhead in the corner with an incredible, curvy body and a vampy, 1940s vixen vibe to match.
Her bright blue eyes home in on my fiancé, her painted lips arching in a cocky smile.
“Do you…know her?” I ask Luka, inclining my head in the woman’s direction.
He glances over and shrugs. “Cassandra Ronan? We signed her a few months back. Do you want me to make an introduction?”
Cassandra looks at me and then makes a show of sipping from the straw in her cocktail while dropping her gaze to Luka’s crotch. Then she licks her lips before turning away.
“Um no, that’s okay,” I say. “I’d rather find that drink first.”
I clear my throat and swallow hard, but the lump there is only growing.
Then I see a blonde dancing in a corner, her body wrapped in a black mini that shows off long, tan thighs.
She’s doing some sort of belly-dancing thing, swiveling her hips in smooth, suggestive motions that has a small group of male observers very, very interested.
I press my lips into a hard line. Why did I think a modeling agency party would be anything other than this?
Luka makes a half turn to pass me the wine glass that seems to have materialized in his hand. “There’s a good crowd here tonight—I’m sure Stefan’s floored that so many people showed up to support Danica Rose. I honestly wasn’t sure what the turn out would be like.”
It’s an innocent comment, another thread of small talk that I don’t want to engage in. The hot, jealous anger inside me keeps growing. I feel suffocated. A dismissive, sarcastic sound makes its way out of me as I take a sip of the moscato.
“Are you sure this is a party to celebrate the agency, and not just a reunion for all the women in your little black book?” I say.
“What?” Luka’s eyebrows shoot up and he makes a cursory glance around. “I didn’t sleep with everyone here.” His tone says otherwise.
He takes a quick drink of water and I slide my hand out of the crook of his arm and gulp from my wine glass, ignoring the judgmental gazes all around me. I point at the redhead.
“That one over there? It’s obvious you slept with her. Everyone in the room knows it.” It’s like I can’t stop. I can’t hold my tongue and I can’t tamp down the bite in my voice. I nod to the belly-dancing blonde in the corner. “And what about her?”
He shrugs and thinks a moment, then looks away. I’ve never seen Luka truly uncomfortable, but he is right now. I’m doing this to him…but I can’t seem to reel myself in.
“Right.” I look pointedly at a brunette. “Her too?”
His eyes darken and narrow as he searches my face. I single out another woman and nod my head. “What about that one? She hasn’t stopped looking at your dick since we walked in.”
“You need to stop,” Luka says, his voice low. “Let’s just have a nice night out together.”
I’d like to do that—but the thing is, he hasn’t denied a single accusation, which only flames my white-hot jealousy.
“It’s too late for that,” I hiss, glaring up at him.
“Come here.” Luka slips his fingers over my bicep and pulls me closer to him, dipping his head as if we’re having a pleasant conversation.
The tension rolling off him says otherwise.
I’ve pushed him too far. This isn’t like me at all, yet I can’t find the sense to feel guilty about all the accusations I’ve made.
And now I’m going to pay for it.
“You want me to tell you about every woman in this room that I’ve fucked, Brooklyn? Huh? Does your dirty little mind want to hear every scandalous detail?”
I shake my head, but it’s too late. His handsome face has gone dead serious, clouded by a dark expression I’ve never seen before. It scares and arouses me all at the same time.
“Don’t—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“The blonde swinging her hips like that? You should see the way she moves when I have my finger in her ass. And that’s nothing compared to what she’s capable of when I’m pounding on her G-spot. It’s sexy as fuck.”
My mouth drops open, my stomach clenching and my cheeks going hot.
“That brunette over there, with the legs for days?” he goes on. “Her knees were wrapped around my head so tight I thought she’d break my neck. ‘Xena,’ I called her.”
He pounds back another drink of water as if it’s hard liquor and gives a nod of greeting to a dark-skinned woman decked out in fire-engine red as she saunters by.
“That one used to be a gymnast. So incredibly flexible. Good thing, because the broom closet I fucked her in wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun if she hadn’t been able to fold up the way she did. ”
“Stop it,” I whisper, a sick feeling roiling in my gut.
A slow, wicked grin crosses his face as he watches yet another woman with raven-black hair go by. “And her. She screamed so loud, we got kicked out of the Hilton. Twice.”
I’m pulling breath in through my nose, my chest heaving to the point that I can’t control it.
I’m seconds away from throwing my wine in his face.
These feelings inside me are shocking and I don’t know what to do with them.
This isn’t me. I’ve never been the jealous type.
Hell, this isn’t even a real relationship. But Luka is driving me to the brink.
I feel possessive, jilted and enraged and so damn aroused, with no outlet for it. I want to pull his hair, scratch at him. Shove him and then pull him closer. I want him to tangle with me until we’re sweaty and naked and my thighs are squeezing the hell out of his hot, smug face.
I set down my glass on a table, intending to head to the ladies’ room where I can hide in a stall and collect myself. But I can’t hold back one last jab before I go.
“Funny how you recall every tiny little detail of your whoring with these women, yet you don’t have a single memory of fucking your own fiancée.”
His face goes cold. I start to storm away from him, but his strong hands grip my hips and pull me back.
Luka spins me, his eyes blazing as he crushes my body up against his.
“You tasted like blackberries and sin, and I’m not talking about your mouth.
Which, I have to tell you, is my second favorite taste ever.
And how could I forget the look on your face when you came, the feel of your soaking wet pussy rutting against my tongue while I devoured you—it’s all etched in my memory so completely, it’s the first thing I see every night when I close my eyes. ”
He’s pulled me away from the bar and into a corner. We’re still in the way of heavy traffic but I barely notice anyone else. I can’t believe it. All this time he’s known, and he’s said nothing. The anger inside starts to cool. I’m simply stunned.
“So, you do remember me.”
“Fuck, I never forgot you. How the hell could I ever forget you?”
Luka’s lips crash onto mine, his tongue invading my mouth as he pulls me in and consumes me. I moan loudly, my hands wrapping around his head to hold him closer. He feasts on me and my body starts to quiver. I want that mouth all over me. Right now.
People whisper louder. I don’t care.
Let them see how much I want my fiancé for all I care.
“Luka,” I gasp as I grab the collar of his shirt. “Limo. Now.”