‘Of course not. I really want a drink.’
He watched her for several seconds, then he nodded.
This time her relief was tangible. But the reprieve didn’t last long. His arm slid possessively around her waist as he led her off the dance floor.
She was suppressing the rising tide of that damned chemistry when he leaned in close. ‘You’re only trying to delay the inevitable, tesoro.’
‘I have no idea what you mean.’
His laughter drew gazes and turned heads. Ruby had a feeling everything this man did compelled attention. And not just of the female variety.
Powerful men stepped aside as he steered her towards the vodka lounge. A faux-fur coat appeared as if by magic and he draped it over her shoulders before they entered the sub-zero room. She headed for an empty slot at the bar, near an ice sculpture carved in the shape of a Chinese dragon.
The bartender glanced at her unmasked face with a frown.
‘I’d like a Big Apple Avalanche, please. Heavy on the apple.’ She needed a clear head if she intended to stay toe to toe with Narciso Valentino.
The bartender didn’t move. ‘I don’t think you’re allowed—’
‘Is there a problem?’ The hard rasp came from over her shoulder.
The bartender snapped to attention. ‘Not at all, sir.’ He grabbed the apple mixer and the canister of top-range vodka.
‘I’ll take it from here.’ Narciso took the drinks from him and waved him away.
Despite the warmth of her coat, she shivered when he turned to her.
‘Ready?’
God, this wasn’t going well at all. Far from feeling under control, she felt her thoughts scatter to the wind every time he looked into her eyes.
‘Yes,’ she said as she inserted the specialised drinking spout into the ice outlet and brought her lips to it.
Her eyes met molten silver ones and fiery heat rushed into her belly. He slowly tipped the canister and icy vodka and apple pooled into her mouth.
Cold and heat simultaneously soothed and burned their way down her throat but the power of the decadent drink came nowhere close to the potent gleam in his eyes.
Before discovering Simon’s duplicity, sex had been something she’d imagined in abstract terms; something she’d accepted would eventually happen between them, once the trust and affection she’d thought was growing between them was solid enough to lean on.
Sex just for the sake of it, or used as a weapon the way she’d watched her parents use it, had made being a virgin at twenty-four an easy choice.
But looking into Narciso’s eyes, she slowly began to understand why sex was a big deal for some women. Why they dwelled on it with such single-minded ferocity.
Never had she wanted to drown in a man’s eyes. Never had she wanted to kiss sensually masculine lips the way she wanted to kiss him right now. She wanted to feel those arms around her again, holding her prisoner the way they’d held her on the dance floor. She wanted to spear her fingers through his luxurious hair, scrape her nails over his scalp and find out if it brought him pleasure.