He glanced up the curving staircase toward the more expansive upper floor. Every muscle in him tightened as his gaze fell on more than one couple getting hot and heavy up there, their moans adding to the soulful music downstairs.
A sudden chill hit Diego. Which floor was Kim on?
Running a hand over his nape, he moved toward the dimly lit lounge. He had no idea what he would do if he didn’t find her on the lower floor. Already every base instinct in him was riled up at the very fact that she was here, of all places.
If he found her with... No, that thought didn’t even bear thinking.
He reached the outer edge of the dance floor, searching for her. He froze at the edge of the crowd as he finally located her. She was right in the center of the crowd, her hands behind her head, moving in perfect rhythm to the music, while a smartly dressed man had his hands around her waist.
His blood roared in his veins. Mine, the barely civilized part in him growled.
She was only dancing, he reminded himself, before he gave in to the urge to beat the crap out of the man touching her. A caveman—just as she had called him.
He slowly walked the perimeter of the crowd.
Her eyes closed, her legs bent, she was moving with an irresistible combination of grace and sensuality that lit a fire in his blood. Every muscle in his body tightened with a razor-edged hunger.
Her hair shone like raw silk. Her mouth was painted a vivid dark red, almost black, like nothing he’d ever seen on her before. Usually her lips shimmered with the barest gloss. A black leather dress hugged every inch of her— cupping her breasts high, barely covering her buttocks. The dress left her shoulders bare, and the exposed curves of her breasts were the sexiest sight he had ever seen.
She’d done the rest of her face differently, too, heavier make-up than he had ever seen. Usually the lack of make-up only served to heighten the no-nonsense, made-of-ice vibe she projected.
It was the opposite today—that outfit, her make-up, everything signaled sexual availability, grabbing attention and keeping it there. Was that why she was here? What had prompted this out-of-character interest in a sex party, of all things?
She looked like his darkest fantasy come true.
Lust knuckled him in the gut. All he wanted to do was pull the dress down until her breasts fell into his hands, past her hips until she was laid bare for him, and then plunge into her until neither of them could catch their breath, until the roar in his blood stopped.
He moved closer to her without blinking, his heart pounding in his ribcage, his skin thrumming with need. Her gaze lit upon him and shock flashed in it. Good—she’d recognized him.
He stepped on the raised platform and roughly collared the guy dancing with her, moved him out of the way. He palmed her face and tilted it up roughly. “Are you high?”
“What?” Even her question sounded uneven. “Of course not.”
He sniffed her. Nothing but the erotic scent of her skin met his nostrils. His jeans felt incredibly tight. It was all he could do to stop from pressing into her. If he did, he didn’t think he could stop. “Are you drunk?” he said, noting a hoarse note in his own words.
She shook her head, something dangerous inching into her gaze. She ran a hand over her midriff, drawing Diego’s gaze to the dress again. “If you’re just going to spoil my fun...”
He blocked her as she turned away from him, the forward momentum pushing her breasts to graze against his chest. He clamped his fingers around her arm and tugged her.
She turned to face him. A strip of light illuminated the lush curve of her mouth, leaving the rest of her face in shadow. “What are you doing?”
He bent his head and tugged her lip with his teeth. Molten heat exploded in every nerve. His cock ached hard. Her hissing breath felt like music to his ears. “Taking you home.”
She dug her heels in and he loosened his hold. “I’m not ready to leave yet.”
“Yes, you are.”
To hell with all his rules, and with sanity and with whatever crap he had spun to keep things rational between them.
She was his—whether she knew it or not, whether she liked it or not. And not just because she was going to be the mother of his children.
* * *
Kim pulled the flaps of Diego’s leather jacket tighter around her and stepped out of the limo. A gust of wind barreled into her. She folded her hands against her midriff, her mouth falling open as she realized why the drive from the party had taken so long. Diego had been talking non-stop on his cell phone, effectively silencing any questions she had.
They were at a private airstrip. The ground crew was finishing up its prep, and the aircraft was being revved up. A tremor traveled up and down her spine.
She walked toward Diego, who was still talking on his phone.