Closer by Aria Hawthorne

Author:Aria Hawthorne [Hawthorne, Aria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B016M0D3GO
Publisher: French Kiss Press LLC
Published: 2015-10-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Inez closed her eyes and touched her lips, unable to believe he had just kissed her—again—and unable to believe he had been the first the one to pull away. When she opened her eyes, part of her wanted to slap that arrogant smile right off his smarmy Dutch face, but the other part of her wanted him to do it again, claiming not only her lips, mouth, and tongue, but her entire body and relieve the aching tingle of wetness between her legs.

Bastard. She glared at him, knowing he couldn’t see her rage. All of this was a game to him.

The mellowing sound of Miles Davis subdued her. She had come up with a brilliant plan to get them through the night, and no matter how much of a pain in the ass Sven intended to be, she had meant what she said: she wasn’t going to let him skip out on attending one of the most prestigious events in his career just because he was sightless. She had been hired by him for exactly that reason, and she wouldn’t fail in her job by letting him fail tonight. Plus, getting Sven through tonight meant scoring her another five thousand dollars. Sven kissing her was just a distraction. The arousal of his tongue swashbuckling her into submission was just an annoying diversion. He had tested her from the moment they first met, and he was testing her again.

Fuck him. She would not fail.

Feeling the heat from his kiss flushing her cheeks, she unfastened her mink wrap and drew it off her shoulders, abandoning it on a nearby lounge chair. She had a job to do and he had a gala to attend. There was nothing stopping them except the inconvenient fact that he was completely dependent now—more than ever. The only thing more inconvenient than that was the fact that the crotch band of her ruffled panties was damp—yet again.

Ugh. Bastard.

The smooth trumpet of Miles Davis’ jazz signature piece crooned through the sliding doors. That was their cue. No more screwing around—literally.

“Give me your hand,” she ordered him. “And don’t move, talk, or speak unless I tell you to.”

With a dreamy expression of amusement, he shifted his eye down onto her lips, as if he was enjoying the stern edge in her voice. “Yes, Mistress Inez.”

She eyed him, uncertain he intended to obey. There was no time to find out; she had to get him into the ballroom before the tempo change. She nudged him towards the sliding double doors and held her breath, listening for the band’s melodic climax. Right on cue, they stepped through the sliding doors. She held onto Sven’s hand like they were jumping out of an airplane together. Just as she had hoped, the ballroom erupted with applause. Bright spotlights flashed over them as a booming female voice introduced them through the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the man of the hour has finally arrived, the recipient of this year’s Modern Genius Award—Mr. Sven van der Meer.

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