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A hot surge of jealousy coursed through him, and he switched his weight from foot to foot, his legs restless. “What else did he try to teach you?” he said, annoyance lacing his voice. Keep it cool, man. He couldn’t make a claim on Brit, she wasn’t his for claiming. Hell, they hadn’t even kissed. His gaze fell to her lush lips, and a much different sensation spread from top to bottom.
She lifted her eyebrow, taking a step backward. “What do you mean?”
“He’s a powerful man. I don’t want you to feel under the obligation of giving him any more attention than what you already have. And if he makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, please let me know.” He wouldn’t forgive himself if Brit had to endure any possible advances from Bill. His fingers curled into fists.
Realization dawned on her face, and she tilted her head, as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. “What? No. He didn’t hit on me, Damian.”
Relief loosened his shoulders, and he exhaled. “Good.”
Her face paled for a moment, and she touched her chest. “I need—”
“What’s happening? Are you okay?” he asked, noticing the blood draining from her color, and the sweat sheening her forehead and neck. When he touched her, her hand felt clammy and cold. The respite from a moment earlier dissipated, and he stretched to his full height. “Talk to me, Brit. What’s wrong?”
She fanned her face with her free hand. “I need to eat.”
He gestured at a passing waiter, who didn’t move fast enough, then he strode to the man and grabbed his tray of appetizers. He ignored the quizzical look from the waiter, and within seconds, he returned to her with the tray in hand, and also a bottle of water he grabbed from a nearby table. “Here.”
She took one salmon canapé and took it to her lips, and a second later, moaned like she’d received oral sex. “Sorry. I haven’t eaten in two days.”
“Two days?” He knew she had money problems, but was she starving herself? Didn’t make sense.
“I wanted to fit in this dress and get rid of some water weight, so I went on a juice cleanse.”
“Are you crazy?”
She grabbed the bottle of water and took it to her lips. “I prefer resourceful.”
“Eat,” he demanded, giving her another canapé.
She did as told, and he took her free wrist and touched her pulse with two fingers to feel her heartrate. It spiked madly, and he had to make sure she was okay. “What are you doing?”
“Low blood sugar is no joke. I’m checking your pulse to make sure you don’t pass out or get sick.”
She shook her wrist before he finished his minute count and jerked away from him. “Damian, I’m fine. Much better now.”
“Eat some more.” He gave her another appetizer, and she accepted it. This time, he watched her face, color returning to her skin, and she seemed visibly better than moments ago. “Let me take your pulse to make sure.”
“No.” She wiped the bit of paté of the corner of her mouth and lifted her chin. “Maybe the reason why I’m having such wacky heartrate isn’t because of a self-imposed starvation.”
Then what could it… His blood pounded. He looked her square in the eye, capturing the desire flaring through her rich, deep irises. The warm sensation returned to him, but this time, hotter. A need he hadn’t experienced in a long time roared through him, taking over his every cell. A need he was no longer strong enough to ignore. He pulled her to him, lowering his lips to hers, fucking ready for the best mistake of his life.
