They were image and social building professionals. Having their pictures premiere in the right places would of course be important to aid the growth of her parents’ business. To do that, a certain look would have to be achieved; somehow, by reputation, standing, wealth or a unique dress, they would have to be noticed. She had felt he had taken her chance to be noticed.
He’d ensured she was noticed tonight in ways she could never have been at any other party.
When the music moved from a waltz to a slow, sensual tune, he pulled her further into him, feeling her arms curl about his shoulders, her head resting against his chest. And God, he wanted her. He wanted her until he was burning with it.
A natural burn, he assured himself. Had there been anything more, she wouldn’t have been able to hide it from his senses. Mating Heat wasn’t burning within her; simple, pure desire made stronger for the fact that she had been hiding from her own sensual nature for so long was all that burned within her.
As Gypsy and Diane had chatted, Rule had given his brother her request that she see Claire and Liza. The two girls had mentioned a desire to see friends and had named Gypsy especially. Before they left the party, he hoped Jonas would approve the request.
Whether he did or not, Rule was determined he would have Gypsy.
Then, soon, he would have to put his foot down where her nightlife was concerned. It was too dangerous for a Breed lover to run the night without security, and at the moment all units were taken up with protecting Claire and Liza.
She would understand, he told himself. Being his lover would make her a target. Too many forces would assume she was his mate, and he couldn’t explain that to her. The ban on explaining mating or Mating Heat to anyone but a mate was strictly enforced.
It was a thin line he would have to tread.
“I’m ready for a drink,” she mumbled lazily from where she rested against him. “And didn’t you say something about a buffet?”
“Hungry, are you?” He smiled into her hair before allowing her to draw away from him and leading her to the edge of the ballroom.
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” she informed him, her green eyes glancing back at him with sultry hunger.
Shadowed, exotic, her gaze was filled with need and the memory of his fingers stroking her to release.
“Your parents seem to be enjoying themselves.” He nodded to where Wolfe and Hope were joining Callan and Merinus at the table where the McQuades were sitting.
The opportunity to discuss the electronic device her mother had attempted to bring into that meeting more than a week ago still eluded him. Seeing the pain, the betrayal she would experience, feeling it, would enrage him.
And God knew, Gypsy didn’t need more pain where her family was concerned.
“My parents are probably in seventh heaven at the moment,” she told him with a light laugh as they made their way to the connecting ballroom that had been set up with a dozen or more food and dessert tables.
They each filled their plates before collecting a glass of wine. Rule led her to one of the tables in the corner of the room where the low lighting was dimmer, the candles reflecting a small pool of intimacy.
The various items that filled their plates were finger foods. Shrimp, vegetables, tenderloin, lamb and chicken chunks served with a variety of cheeses, crackers and specialty breads.
In the low light that hid them from view, Rule selected a small chunk of lamb, held it in his fingers, then reached across the table to tuck it at her lips.
Surprised, her gaze darkening at the implications of the action, Gypsy stared back at him. Lips parting, she took the morsel of food before her head dipped, her lashes lowering as she ate.