Page 56 of Break My Rules

She nods, grinning wider. “I do have a question for you,” she says softly, beckoning.

I lean closer. “What’s that?”

“Why isn’t your cock inside me already?”

Lust blazes. Fuck. “My mistake,” I growl, reaching for my belt. “One to be rectified immediately.”

But I’m just stripping open my pants when the sound of voices comes in the hallway. Getting closer.

In one swift move, I pull Tessa from the desk, and set her upright on her feet again. The thrilling risk of discovery is one thing but turning her into fodder for cheap gossip is something else. Something I’d never subject her to.

“They can’t hear us,” Tessa protests, looking disappointed.

“They would, the way I plan on fucking you.” I smooth down her dress so she’s decent again. Well, except from the orgasmic glow in her eyes. “Trust me, baby. Word travels fast in a place like this. Do you want everyone in the building knowing exactly how you take my cock? My parents,” I add meaningfully. “Lionel Ambrose? Cyrus Lancaster?”

Her eyes widen. “Good point!” she yelps, frantically patting at her tousled hair.

I pause, watching her collect herself. And even though my erection is painfully hard at this point, and I’m going to have to walk around with my jacket draped strategically over my arm, hiding the situation in my trousers, I can’t keep the smile off my face.

Because these moments, when it’s just the two of us—no suspect lists and vengeance, no family bullshit and drama—it’s the most peaceful I think I’ve ever felt.

I want it forever.

“Really?” Tessa beams at me, taking my hand.

“Uh, yes.” I clear my throat and put aside that unexpected thought.

I hold open the door for her, and we emerge back into the hallway. There are people nearby, I notice, talking in corners and spilling out of the main party, so it’s just as well I put the brakes on our filthy interlude.

Tessa would have screamed the place down.

“There’s your brother,” Tessa says, nodding across the floor as we draw nearer to the party. Robert is in conversation with my father and Lionel Ambrose, their heads bent together. “Looks serious,” she comments, turning to intercept a passing waiter with a tray ofhors d’oeuvres.

“Family business always is,” I quip dryly.

The three of them look over, and see us, so I offer a polite nod and a wave, and Robert quickly leaves the group to come join us. “Good showing, don’t you think?” he says brightly, gesturing around.

“It’s a lovely party,” Tessa says politely. “Saint’s been giving me a tour,” she adds, shooting me a private smirk. “It’s been astimulatingevening already.”

I try not to choke on a salmon roll. Robert grins, oblivious to her filthy double entendres. “Excellent. You know, I heard you were working with Hugh now, over at the Ambrose Foundation?”

Tessa nods. “I’m working on a fundraising project; it’s been really interesting.”

“She’s being modest,” I say proudly. “She’s been shaking things up over there. Hugh’s been singing her praises for weeks.”

“And he would know,” Robert agrees, sounding admiring. “The man is going places. Like father like son. I wouldn't be surprised if he was in government in a few years, too.”

I blink. I forget sometimes that Robert grew up with a healthy dose of hero worship, trailing around after me and my friends. “I’m not so sure Hugh would agree,” I say, amused, but Robert seems convinced.

“You should see him in front of a crowd,” he insists. “That TED Talk he did in Stockholm last year, people took notice. You should look it up,” he adds to Tessa. “It was all about the Foundation mission, how to balance positive interventions with local sovereignty. October, I think it was,” he says, frowning. “Yes, that’s it. He was running lines on us all through the Blackthorn Society party, before he jetted off to take the stage. Shitting bricks, if you’ll pardon my French,” he adds with a grin.

“I’ll do that,” she replies slowly. There’s something in her expression I don’t recognize, but I wait until Robert excuses himself and goes to mingle, before I check.

“What is it?”

Tessa looks at me, urgent. “You heard him. He said Hugh left the Blackthorn party last year to go give a speech in Sweden.”

“Wren,” I realize, with no small measure of relief. “She was held that weekend. It couldn’t have been him.”