“That was insolent. And deserved. I couldn’t look at the cards until we’d moved on to the next bar. I wouldn’t even let Charles open his. It took me two more drinks, but I found the Four of Clubs and that was it. I turned around and went back for you, but you were gone.”

“You—you were with Charles when he came to see Jane!”

“You’d vanished into the night,” he laments, and I laugh. “Then there you were, holding Jane’s head together. I can’t even talk about that glove peel. And the Work It party—”

“Me? You were the one being so damn charming and attentive. It almost interfered with my wounded pride.”

“And I was wondering what you had on under the dress. I wanted to believe nothing.” He looks off into the middle distance. “No bra, no panties . . .”

I laugh, but the idea gets me squirming. “How far did you get with those musings?”

“Nothing realistic. Just you. And me, confirming there was nothing on underneath.”

“That’s—”

“Then ravaging you on my desk.”

I choke on my laugh. “Goodness, you’re expedient.”

“I already had you down to one item of clothing. At least I waited ’til we got to the office. It could have been the buffet table.”

“Maybe another time.”

“Oh?” Darcy nudges my shoulder and rolls me onto my back, exposing me to him. The insistent move makes me moan, but his eyes go soft. “Oh, no . . .”

His tone has me following his attention to my right breast. The nipple is marred with blotches of red; the rough removal of the pastie earlier must have ruptured some capillaries. His brow furrows in concern and he cups my breast. “Are you okay? I’m sorry—”

“I told you to do it,” I remind him, and his face softens. “That was . . . new. For me.” A flush rises in my cheeks and flares across my chest at the admission. Darcy watches the progression of pink with rapt interest. “I’ve never wanted that before. Roughness. I guess I trust you.”

“Oh?”

I raise an eyebrow at the surprise in his voice, though I’m still trying to breathe normally. “What?”

“I trust you, too.” He leaves my breast to rub along my side, his eyes doing that searching thing he’s so prone to.

“What are you looking for?” My voice is a whisper.

He shakes his head, eyes still moving over my face. “I don’t know. But every time, it’s just been you. You’re always you, whether you’re selling pasties or tearing into me in a bar.” He trails his fingers to my hip. “It’s like I said after your peel tonight. It’s all you.” He slides his hand between my thighs. “Multitudes.”

“Me?” I mean to sound thoughtful, but it turns into a moan as he makes a leisurely pass against my center. My hips buck.