Twisted Love (Modern Romance #3) - Piper Lawson Page 0,28

fingers in her hair and dragging her lips up to mine.

She's warm and soft and unexpectedly delicious. The scent of jasmine blurs with the flavor of her drink on her lips.

Shock has her opening under me, and my tongue takes advantage with zero hesitation. I breathe her in, devouring her with my senses.

It's not even her yielding that surprises me most. It's the little sound that escapes her throat, the one that vibrates against my eager tongue, through my chest, down my spine.

The club falls away, along with my disdain for it.

What matters is her, warm and fiery under my hands. The arousal scorching through me.

Acting as if I want this woman is the easiest thing I've done all week. All month.

Because the pull between us is real.

I find her hip with my other hand, sliding down to palm the perfect curve of her ass.

She stiffens, and I wonder if I’ve crossed a line.

But the next moment, she crushes her breasts against my chest. Her cool hand slips under my collar, her fingers digging into the muscles of my neck as she slants her lips against mine at a new angle, giving me all the access I’m demanding and then some.

The heat between us dials up another ten notches until I combust.

I want to slide my hand under the hem of that dress, to find out whether she's wearing the black lace panties I haven’t stopped picturing since yesterday.

Daisy’s my best friend.

And all I can wonder is whether she’d have any breath left for smart retorts if she felt exactly how hard she’s making me.

The song changes, the beat slowing from something frenetic to a needy throb, and it reminds me we’re in public.

Which is the whole point.

I’m not used to having to wrestle with my control, but I’m in a battle now.

I force myself to pull back, still breathing hard.

She swipes at her lower lip, the expression on her face so much like arousal, and I want to memorize it.

This isn't real. I remind myself of that as the taste of her lingers on my tongue.

Her gaze tears from mine toward the booth across the room. “Here’s hoping that worked."

I nod, adjusting the collar of my shirt where her hands messed it up. "Yeah."

At least one of us was convinced.

8

Pulling off a good impression doesn’t come down to the environment, but it doesn’t hurt. The People interview is taking place at a fancy private room at one of Vane's hotels.

Aiden and his bride are sitting on a love seat, her knee deliberately crossed toward him. They’re dressed beautifully, him in a suit and her in a blue Givenchy dress. The couple is doing well on the questions I shared with them in advance.

They met through mutual friends.

She plans to move into his home in Manhattan after the wedding.

Finally, the interviewer asks about how Camila will spend her time after they’re married.

“She’ll be working at our company.”

Camila shifts forward. “But my passions will stay mine. I run a foundation, and that won’t change.”

I rise and cross from my seat discreetly a few feet away, where I’ve been keeping one ear on the interview while I respond to a few other client emails.

Aiden turns toward her, frowning. “We discussed this and we decided you'd move back to a board seat.”

She smiles. “We discussed it, and you decided.”

"Mr. Vane," the interviewer says, breaking into the tense silence, "there have been fingers pointed about your involvement in the acquisition of these new resorts. That your dealings with the company you bought them from weren't aboveboard."

I clear my throat, stepping between them and the interviewer. “Aiden has answered those baseless rumors already to the satisfaction of the public and the New York prosecutor's office. No charges were laid because he did nothing wrong. I think we’re done for today.”

“But I have another few questions—”

“If none focus on Aiden and Camila's wedding, we'll have to table them.”

I walk her to the door, promising she can follow up. After I watch her head down the hall, I spin on my heel and tug the heavy oak door closed after me, taking in my clients.

“The fuck was that?” Aiden states, rising.

“She can't prevent them from asking,” Camila points out. "How did you even know?"

I square my shoulders. “You didn't tell me, but it's my job to know. So I looked into it."

“But you assume I did something wrong." His steely gaze hardens on mine.

"I assume things are more complicated than they appear and I like to give