“Relax. Smile.” Rory eased her off his feet. “They’re watching us because we’re lovely and I’m a brilliant dancer. Could have gone pro if I wanted to, but I decided one full-of-himself celebrity in the family was enough.” He grinned, then nodded to the crowd. “Thank you.”
“That’s not a nice way to talk about your brother.” Maybe it was a stupid thing to say, but talking about Callum was better than acknowledging all the stares on them.
“It’s true. Did you know that one year he gave us all signed footballs for Christmas?” Rory started to lead her off the dance floor.
Her heart still pounded, her mind whirling from the excitement. And her nipples were hard just from being so close to him. She hoped no one noticed. “I’m sure he simply didn’t have time to be more personal.”
His fingers laced through hers. “He makes the time now. I shoved that damn thing up his arse, and now he’s more thoughtful. You’ll have to be that way with Callum from time to time. He doesn’t always think. Put him on his arse when he requires it and everything will run smoothly. Outside the bedroom, of course. He won’t take orders when you’re intimate, but you’ll have a good deal of control with him in the real world. It’s Oliver you’ll have to worry about. He’s the one who’ll tell you everything is fine when his world is falling apart.”
She had to protest. “But I’m not—”
“Don’t let him get away with it,” Rory kept on as if she hadn’t spoken at all. “Fine is like his safe word. When he uses it, everything needs to stop.”
“Safe word?” She knew that meant a word the submissive used if she’d had too much of a punishment or got scared.
Rory stopped and turned, looming over her like a gorgeous Viking god. “Yes. I was joking about Oliver’s—mostly. But you should choose yours. You’ll need one very soon.”
Her dress suddenly felt way too tight. “I don’t think any of this is a good idea.”
Heat and desire lit his blue eyes as his fingers tightened around hers. “Don’t be scared. Everything we’ll do to you is designed to bring you pleasure and draw us closer together. I’ve trained for this day.”
“But you… I-I didn’t know you wanted me.”
“I fought like hell to hide how I felt. The first time I went to a club, I thought I could rid myself of my desire for you. I followed Callum, seeking a sub who looked like you. I planned to purge myself so I could help Oliver find his way. I found a pretty sub with hair like yours and I trained with her. I learned everything necessary but I felt almost nothing because she wasn’t you. I couldn’t muster any desire whatsoever to touch her in a sexual way because the minute you walked in the door, I belonged to you. I don’t know why or how, but I haven’t looked at another woman since we met. I know Oliver hurt you, but I can’t help but be happy because it forced Callum and me to come to terms. I think in the end, that’s exactly what Oliver needed to be comfortable with our marriage.”
“M-marriage?” She squeaked out the word.
Tori didn’t ask if he was serious. His weight and the heat of his dark stare told her he was.
“Yes, don’t think for a second that I’ll settle for anything less. I love you, Tori.”
She so wasn’t ready for that. She didn’t know how to believe it. Sex was easier. One night with the three of them was something she could conceive of. “I’m not thinking of the future. I’m honestly not thinking of anything at all, Rory. I can’t. I’m not staying here.”
“I know you’re not.”
A hand touched her elbow. “Torrance? I am Abdul al Bashir, cousin to the sheikh. May I have this dance?”
She turned and saw a stunning man. With golden skin and fathomless dark eyes, he was dressed in an immaculate tux and smiled down at her with a flash of white teeth in a stunning face. Oh, he was one of the five cousins she’d absolutely planned on avoiding. No matter how delicious he was, he came with four extras…and her heart belonged elsewhere. Not that she could handle the three currently propositioning her. Not only that, Abdul and his brothers were Bezakistani men. They’d been known to steal the bride they wanted.
Still, it might get her out of temptation’s way if she danced with him.
“I’m afraid not. So sorry,” Rory lied as he began to tug her away.
Tori stood her ground. “Mr. al Bashir—” Then she squeaked. “What the hell!”
One minute she was talking politely and the next she found herself in Rory’s arms, being carried out of the ballroom. Staid, very British Rory Thurston-Hughes picked her up and carried her toward the exit like a pirate with a particularly thrilling bit of booty.
“Rory, what are you doing?” she demanded.
He was supposed to be the reasonable one, but he’d proven that looks could be deceiving.
Rory kicked opened the door to the hallway. Kicked it open. Yeah, nobody noticed that and it certainly didn’t make her ovaries melt at all. Nope. She didn’t like this side of Rory. Well, no part of her except those softening pink bits and maybe her heart.
“I’m taking charge.” He strode down the hall. He didn’t pause or hesitate. When he walked past reporters, he didn’t bother to look their way. He was a man on a mission.
“Put me down! You can’t carry me off. I thought I was supposed to smile at the press and make my nip slip go away.” Though she’d actually planned to be long gone by now, Tori realized it was too early to leave.
“I don’t care about that. Your breast looked stunning. If it ends up on the front page, I’ll make a poster of it. I don’t care what other people think. I’m done with that and you need to be done with it, too.” He stopped when they passed a security station. The guards allowed them into the palace’s private family wing. One even grinned as he opened the door for them.