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‘Your product has an eager market, but its patent will only protect it for so long. Time is of the essence, and you need a ready production line and a route to market that is as speedy as we can make it.’
‘We?’ Her brows rise. ‘That’s quite presumptuous of you.’
‘You know my company can give you both.’
She hums low in her throat and it resonates through me. My eyes fall to her lips, to their provocatively tight line. How I want to probe it with my tongue…make her yield…
‘And what of me, Lucas? What does your research tell you about me?’
I want to tell her that I’d value her business, but more than that, I’d value her. I want to tell her that I’d trust her. That everything I knew of her all those years ago hasn’t really changed…that all I’ve learned in the intervening years only reinforces that view. That there is nothing in her to spark my doubt.
Except my experience with her brother—an experience which has made me an outcast of her family…
You’re getting personal. This is business. You only have to trust her as far as the contract you draw up dictates.
Yet already I can feel myself wanting more. Wanting to see how far I can push the perfect, composed businesswoman before me and make her crack. Make her desire me like her eighteen-year-old self did.
If only I could go back, take what she offered so willingly instead of—
‘Are you ready, Eva? The floor awaits you.’
It’s her father. He appears by her side from out of nowhere. Fuck her red lips. If not for those I would have sensed his approach. Been ready for it. Instead I’m forced to look straight from them to him, and I can see displeasure in every hard-cut line to his face.
It’s as if he can see inside my soul to the ingrained need I have for his daughter and is telling me where to shove it.
‘Mr Beaumont.’ I say it smoothly and raise my glass, giving him the half-smile I reserve for business.
His eyes flash. I can see he wants to ignore me, and Eva positively thrums with tension as her gaze flits between us.
‘Yes, of course—thank you, Dad.’
She lifts a hand to her father’s chest, clearly telling him to stand down, and it riles my blood. I’m not a man to tell tales, and I’m not about to start now, but the truth of what happened five years ago is burning to get out.
I wash it back with champagne and turn to Eva, my hand falling to the curve of her back as I move to speak and feel the words evaporate on the heat of her skin beneath the silk.
She turns to look at me, her mouth parting in what I think is surprise—until I see the flush to her cheeks, the flare to her eyes, and I know, in that moment, that she feels it too. The desire. And if I were a betting man I’d put money on it being stronger than ever before.
‘Let’s talk later.’
I don’t wait for a response. I turn and walk away. Seeking out the shadows where I can regain my prized composure in peace.
I’m not used to losing my cool. I depend on it to face the many challenges that come my way. But something tells me that working with Evangeline would be a challenge like no other—because, regardless of my intentions when I set out tonight, I want her.
Her and her business.
Trouble is, I know which one I want more…
I watch as she takes to the podium, her entire body glinting under the fairy lights of the tree, and my body stiffens with a need so fierce I know it should have me running in the opposite direction and yet I’m rooted.
I owe the Beaumonts nothing.
But I owe her a ten-year-old debt. And suddenly I can’t wait to pay up in full.
CHAPTER TWO (#u53309a19-af23-5c53-ab06-1388d2b89c0a)
I DELIVER MY speech to the room and my words flow. I’ve rehearsed them a zillion times over and could do it in my sleep. Which is a good job, considering my attention is off the product and on the dark corner of the room where I know he waits. Listening…
I can feel his intense stare, his hunger. It was there in his touch, in his eyes that burned into my back all the way to the podium, and it’s still there, fuelling my own.
The audience is enraptured. I’ve been reeling them in for the last twenty minutes. But still my mouth dries with anticipation. For him.
I pause to sip some champagne, my smile sweeping the entire audience before coming back to him. I need this to be sated. Before it consumes my every thought, drives my every action.
I raise my glass and offer a toast to the future. It’s an excuse to loosen my vocal cords further, before I leave the stage and do what’s expected of me—circulate the room.
Most people I’ve spoken to already. But now it’s about verbally agreeing to meetings and having my PA follow them up. Sealing their interest.
I know he will be on that list of interested parties. I owe it to my product.
It won’t sit well with my family, but I’ll deal with that as I do any business dealing—with professionalism. My parents can’t fault me for that, and whatever deal I sign will buy them out. It’s money back in their pocket and the business wholly my own. It’s what I’ve dreamed of for so long. And if that money comes from a deal with Lucas, so be it.
Yeah, and what about Nate?
I bury the instinctive snort. I’m sick of him getting a free ride. I love him. I do. But I’m almost certain that whatever happened five years ago had more to do with him than the tale I’ve been given: that Lucas simply ran when the going got tough, leaving Nate and my father to clean up the mess.
But what about what he did to you? What about your heart?
Now my tummy turns over. My heart has no place in this. Not any more. I will consider his business offer, but as for the unvoiced part of his proposition…
I find him in the room. He leans against a pillar, one leg crossed over the other, his body relaxed. But his eyes as they lock with mine are anything but.
I moisten my lips. For that my body is already willing—my eighteen-year-old self still craving satisfaction, longing to experience what he cruelly refused all those years ago. Only this time it’ll be on my terms. I’ll show him what he’s been missing, get this carnal need sated, and then it can all be about business.
If I choose to sign with him.
‘You were amazing, Eva.’
I drag my eyes away to smile at Clare. She’s a fabulous assistant—her excitement bubbles over as if it were my own. ‘Thank you.’
‘If anyone had the slightest doubt they’ll be utterly convinced now that they want it—even if it’s to gain a piece of you.’
I know she means it professionally, but I can’t help thinking of Lucas, and again I’m distracted, my eyes hunting him out. And then a crazy urge takes over.
‘Clare, do me a favour and hold the room for five. I just need to take care of something.’
‘Sure.’
I’m already heading for the exit, the restrooms, giving a polite ‘I’ll be back in just a moment…’ to anyone who pauses to speak to me.
I know I don’t need to beckon him, that he’ll be hot on my tail. And he is. As soon as my hand presses into the restroom door he’s at my back.
‘Escaping?’
I turn and smile up at him. ‘Wait here.’
His brow pinches together. He’s unaccustomed to being commanded—that’s obvious. But he does as he’s told and I walk through the door, scanning the stalls. They’re all empty and I don’t hang around. I pull open the door and reach for the skinny black tie that reminds me so much of the defiant teen I loved.
‘Come.’
I walk backwards and he moves with me, feeding the power swimming like liquid heat through my veins, my core.
‘What is this, Eva?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I hope it’s you calling in a ten-year debt.’
I keep moving, ignoring the brief spike of pain, of heartbreak. Knowing I’m about to replace it with something far more satisfying.
‘Do you remember that night?’
His jaw clenches, his eyes ablaze, and I know he’s reliving it.
‘Yes,’ he grinds out.
His tension is palpable and I take conceited pleasure in it.
‘I remember.’
I push open a stall door, thankful for the opulent finish, and nudge him inside. A toilet wouldn’t be my ideal place to feed this need, but it’s certainly the most convenient. And, as far as toilets go, this is designed for a certain clientele—a sleek private vanity area, with space for a woman’s multitude of possessions or her derriere, should the need arise. How very convenient.
I back him inside, blindly locking the door behind me. ‘Do you remember how you left me?’
He falters and shakes his head.
‘No?’ I raise my brow at him, my fingers toying with the slit in the silk that rides high up my thigh.
‘I do remember.’
His voice is tight. It reverberates through my spine as I circle the exposed skin and raise the slit higher. ‘What do you remember, Lucas?’
‘I remember you wore a white number that barely covered your arse.’
I can feel the effort it takes him to form the words and my confidence edges ever higher. I hook my fingers into the fabric of my dress and spread it open across my thigh, loving how his eyes track the move, his breath hitching.
‘What else?’
‘I remember how your skin felt beneath my palms…the taste of champagne on your tongue.’
He gives a small shudder and his fists flex at his sides. I know he wants to reach for me, but something is stopping him. And I’m glad. I want to be in control. The one driving this…
I lift the fabric until it exposes the lace of my nude thong and watch him swallow heavily.
‘Do you want to know what I remember, Lucas?’
His eyes lift to mine, burning deep, and I don’t wait for his answer. I focus on the sex, the need, the desire that has lived on in spite of my shattered heart.
‘I remember aching for you so badly… I remember being wet and ready for you…’
I ease my hand between my parted legs and he exhales sharply, his eyes falling away once more, his fists tight.
‘I can remember wanting to do just this…’
I slip my fingers beneath the lace. Christ, I’m so wet. My thong is damp against the backs of my fingers. He does this to me. Without a touch he has me primed and ready.
I catch my lower lip in my teeth as I pull my fingers back over my clit, pleasure ripping through me, my hips gyrating into their touch. His eyes flare and I lock onto them, getting off on his reaction as much as the skilful touch of my own fingers.
I could come like this. I know it. Come and leave. Make him suffer. But it’s not enough.
‘Come here,’ I tell him.
He doesn’t hesitate. He steps forward, his hands reaching to cup my face, but I lean away from him. I don’t want him to kiss me. Not on my lips at any rate. It’s too personal—too close to my teenage dreams.
I press my free hand to his chest and look up into his questioning gaze. ‘Make me come.’
He cocks a grin at me. ‘My pleasure.’ He lowers his hand.
‘No.’
He frowns.
‘With your mouth.’
His eyes widen. ‘You like being in charge now?’
‘Always.’
I slip my hand out of my thong and gather up the skirt of my dress. ‘On your knees.’
As he follows my instructions, surprise floods me. I didn’t expect this swift agreement. And then he’s upon me, his mouth encasing my mound through the lace, the heat of his breath making me shudder, and my knees go weak.
He probes me with his tongue, his teasing through the fabric enough to make my legs buckle completely. He palms my behind. Holding me steady.
‘Why don’t you sit?’ he murmurs against me, encouraging me to the countertop. I go willingly, my dress hitched up to my hips, and the cold surface a shock to the cheeks of my arse. I spasm and he laughs. The sound resonates over my clit.
‘Easy…’
I fork my hand over his head and draw him against me. My other hand clutches the edge of the countertop. ‘I don’t want easy.’
