“Really well,” she says, waving at Lyle Tarpin, who sees her and comes over to join us. “Lyle is amazing in it. You and Nikki are coming to the premiere, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Damien promises as Jamie comes up beside me and elbows me in the waist.
I turn to her and she cocks her head toward Lyle. I bite back the urge to roll my eyes, then introduce them. “I won’t talk business here,” Jamie says after they’ve exchanged pleasantries. She flashes her brightest on-camera smile. “But maybe tomorrow we could schedule an interview?”
Fortunately, Lyle only looks amused as Jamie leads him off toward the bar.
“Ambition in motion,” I say to Jane, who laughs.
We chat a bit more, then continue to move through the crowd. Even Edward is here, and Damien pats him on the back jovially when the driver offers his birthday wishes.
Finally, Sylvia and Jackson come over with Ronnie bouncing beside them. “We let her stay up a bit longer than planned. But now she insists on giving you a birthday kiss before Stella takes her up to bed,” Sylvia says.
“I think that can be arranged,” Damien says, crouching down so that Ronnie can throw her arms around him and plant a big, wet kiss on his cheek.
“I love you, Uncle Damie.”
“Love you, too, squirt.”
She waves enthusiastically as her dad carries her over to their nanny. And once they’re out of sight, Damien pulls me close, his arm around my waist as he looks out over the crowd that fills this enormous room.
“Thank you.”
“You already said that,” I point out.
“It deserves saying again. Thank you,” he repeats, then bends his head to kiss me. “This really is amazing.”
And as I look around at this room of colleagues and friends—of people who rearranged plans and came to Santa Barbara on such short notice to help us celebrate—I have to give myself a mental pat on the back, because I agree.
It really is amazing.
“That’s everybody,” I say as we shut the door behind Jamie, Ryan, and Wyatt. It’s almost two in the morning, which considering we’d started at six, is a sign of remarkable success. Then again, I think the laughter-filled room, the clusters of folks chatting in corners, and the liberal flowing of alcohol were also good indicators.
But there’s really only one person whose opinion counts to me. “Did you have a good time tonight?” I ask Damien.
“Did I have a good time?” he repeats. “Come here.” He takes my hands and pulls me to him, then closes his mouth hard over mine. He takes a step forward, forcing me against the wall, and I have no time to think as he deepens the kiss. His lips teasing mine, his tongue making me melt.
As his mouth claims me, his hands rise up over the thin knit of my simple sheath dress, moving from my hips to my breasts with the kind of slow, intimate purpose that is making me lose my mind. He cups my breasts roughly, that wildness juxtaposed against a string of sweet kisses that he trails down my neck with such slow and intimate precision that by the time he reaches my collarbone, I am like a wild thing, writhing against him, wanting more and more. Hell, wanting everything.
I slide my hands down to his ass, wanting to pull him closer. But he foils me, taking his hands off my breasts as he bends his mouth lower to bite and suck through the material even as he finds my wrists and lifts my arms above my head, rendering me helpless as he uses his knee to coax my legs apart, then roughly yanking my dress up to my waist.
With one bold move, he rips off my panties, then releases his hold on my wrist long enough to open his fly. He’s hard as steel and I’m so damn wet, and as he grabs each of my thighs, I hold onto his shoulders, my back arching as he thrusts hard into me, then takes me hard and fast against the wall, his release coming so quickly I can barely catch my breath.
“Damien,” I murmur, but he silences me with a kiss as his hand slips between our joined bodies and he strokes me expertly, making me squirm with a wild, building need that is all the more intense because my feet aren’t on the ground, and I’m held up only by the pressure of Damien’s body pinning me to the wall.
Higher and higher he takes me, closer and closer, until finally I’m pushed right over the edge and he holds me tight as I explode, my body shattering from the force of the orgasm.
“Thank you for my party,” he whispers when I can breathe again. “I had a very good time.”
I laugh, a little trill of victory running through me and I cling to him, enjoying both the moment and delicious sensation of his body against mine.
“Of course, I’ve done my part now,” I tease. “Tomorrow you have to come up with the evening’s entertainment.”
“Sweetheart, I think that’s already all planned out,” he says, tilting his head as if looking up toward the roof.
“Exactly the answer I was hoping for,” I admit, making him laugh. “Were you really surprised?”