Billionaire Bad Boys of Romance 2(13)

I eyed Victor once more. He was quietly fuming. I’d seen that sinister expression on his face before when he couldn’t get what he wanted—especially at the price he was willing to pay.

The auctioneer slowly raised his hammer. “Going once.” Silence. “Going twice.” Silence. “Going…going…GONE!” He slammed his hammer down on the podium. “Sold for two million dollars to the gentleman with the gorgeous blonde! Congratulations, sir!”

Raucous applause and cheers broke out. The loud disco music started up again. The crowd began to dance wildly. The party was now just getting started. But I stood motionless in shock.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me, Gloria?” Jaime asked, catapulting me into the moment.

“Why did you buy the Rihanna undergarments? They cost a fortune.”

“Because I could afford to. And the money’s going to a good cause.” He winked at me as he punctuated the words “good cause.”

Smartass! “So, you think by impressing me with your money and audacity you’ll win the Gloria’s Secret account?” I countered, my voice testy.

His lips curled up into that sexy smile. “No. I’ll win your account with my creativity and agility.”#p#分页标题#e#

Arrogant asshole! But there was no denying that his words made me flush. Before I could utter a sound, he tugged at my braid.

“Dance with me, Gloria!” An order. Setting his half-finished martini onto a nearby cocktail table, he whisked me into his sculpted arms, drawing me tight against him. The dance music was pounding, and so was my heart…along with the wet bundle of nerves between my inner thighs. Against my silk dress, I could feel the rippled muscles of his chest and the rigid mound between his thighs. He pressed his arousal harder against me as he gyrated his hips against mine. I was as stiff as a board.

“Relax, Gloria,” he commanded. “Trust me.”

He splayed his long fingers on my jutting hipbones, rotating my hips to follow his. I chugged my martini, and as the velvety liquid coursed through my bloodstream, I felt myself loosening up. Soon I was rhythmically moving with him as if we’d danced together forever. His undulating movements were fluid, sensual, and controlling. Boy, did Mr. Agility know how to move!

A waiter passed by with a tray full of cocktails. Plunking my depleted martini glass on the tray, I grabbed another drink, not knowing what it was. I polished it off in two gulps, in time enough to return the emptied glass back onto the tray. I reached for one more. Jaime gripped my wrist forcefully, holding it back.

“Careful, Gloria.” Jaime’s voice whirled in my ear as the room started spinning around me. Was this some kind of special effect? My favorite new song, “Blurred Lines,” began to play. I was totally into it, singing along at the top of my lungs.

“Do you think I’m a good girl?” I asked Jaime, slurring each word.

“Come on, let’s get of here.” Jaime’s voice took on urgency.

“No!” I protested. “I just want to dance.” I looped my arms around his neck, brushing them along his silky tousled hair, and glued my forehead to his. My hot breath caught his, and I started to move wildly, bumping every part of me against his rock-hard body. My hips. My butt. My boobs. Without losing physical contact, I pulled off my shoes.

“Don’t need these!” I chirped and tossed them deep into the crowd.

“Let’s go. Now!” ordered Jaime.

Before I could protest again, Jaime yanked my arms off his neck, grabbed a hand, and dragged me through the crowd. Dazed and dizzy, I tottered behind him, barely managing to keep up with him.

I passed by Vivien and waved at her. She fired me a scathing look. I was confused. Everything was a whirling blur.

Finally, we were outside. The cool, crisp air enveloped me but did little to bring me to my senses. The world, which revolved around the devastatingly handsome Jaime Zander, was still spinning out of control. I felt myself swaying. Thank goodness, this gorgeous hunk of manliness was holding me up, his muscled arm clamped around my waist. He slipped his spare hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He fingered the touch-key screen and I heard him mumble, “Orson, I need the car brought around to the entrance of the club immediately.”

“How do you feel?” Jaime asked upon ending the call. His voice was tender.

“Like shit,” I murmured. Nausea had settled in. Bile was rising to my chest. Oh God, please don’t let me throw up in front of him! Please! NO!

The next thing I knew, Mr. Zander was scooping me up in his arms and loading me into the back seat of his Rover. He cradled me in his lap, his hard length pressing into my backside, and let me lean my head against his chest. Though his chest was pure steel, the softness of his cotton tee was comforting.