“Let’s talk about this later,” he said, calming his voice even as his emotions raged. Fighting with her would only create the sort of distance between them that would grow over time. He stared into her passion-heavy gaze. “Right now all I want to think about is us.”
Hearing the impassioned groan that wrenched from her lips as he lifted her off her feet, he captured her mouth in a hard, demanding kiss. A heartbeat later, she wrapped her legs around his thighs and they melded in a rhapsody of aching pleasure and blissful sighs.
Although Sammi had several gowns that might have suited, since she was going as Oliver’s date, the dress she selected had to make the perfect statement. With all the attention he was receiving from the media since his father had been apprehended and thrown in prison, she wanted to be memorable, but not flashy. Yet while making fashion decisions was in her comfort zone, tonight she was bound to be asked about their relationship, and Sammi remained unsure if she was ready to claim that they were a couple.
At least she was confident in her choice of a black cocktail dress of organza with an overlay of black lace-edged tulle for the party. The strapless design and full skirt were a glamorous fifties-inspired retro look that Sammi heightened by styling her hair in a smooth chignon with soft tendrils framing her face. Simple crystal drop earrings completed the look.
When she opened the door and saw Oliver standing outside her apartment, she tried not to gawk at the way his formal wear enhanced his broad shoulders and turned him into an elegant stranger.
She’d never even seen him in a suit and had no idea he owned a tuxedo. His usual attire of jeans, shirts and leather jackets gave his blond all-American good looks an edgy quality that suited his big-city bad-boy image. His rough edges let everyone forget that he’d grown up in the exclusive bedroom community of Falling Brook, New Jersey, with a mansion filled with staff to tend to his every need. Utterly comfortable in perfectly tailored Tom Ford, Oliver looked every inch a man of wealth beyond anything she could wrap her head around and highlighted the differences in their upbringing.
He must’ve picked up on her sudden uneasiness. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Sammi took his arm and tried to escort him toward the door, but he planted his feet and refused to move. Finally, she gave up with a sigh. “I’m just a little bit nervous about tonight.”
Initially thrilled that he’d invited her to the party, as she selected the perfect dress, she’d started wondering what to say when people asked about their relationship. They spent so much time alone that she hadn’t given much thought to labeling what was progressing between them. Tonight’s event was different. Before this, Oliver had maintained a low profile where his dating life was concerned, and Sammi wasn’t sure what her role was supposed to be. Did he want to admit they were dating? Living together? Future parents? Friends only?
“You have nothing to worry about,” Oliver said, his deep voice reverberating through her.
“This is the first time we’ve attended a party together.”
He tensed. “Are you worried about being the focus of bad publicity from being seen with me?”
“Hardly.” She tightened her grip, fierce in her defense of him, and wished she could voice what was really on her mind. “Are you sure I look okay?”
“You look gorgeous,” he intoned, his deep voice sending pleasure rippling through her.
“Good,” she murmured. “Because people are going to notice me on your arm.”
To her shock, Oliver took her by the shoulders and stared down at her. “I hope you realize that no matter how you look, I will always be proud of you.”
His utter seriousness curled her toes. She cupped his cheek, flushed with wonder. She loved that Oliver always treated her as someone he admired and cherished. The men she dated before him had all wanted her because of her beauty and didn’t give a damn about her thoughts or feelings. They liked how she looked, not who she was. And while she recognized that Oliver was attracted to her beauty, what lurked below her surface appealed to him just as much.
“Even when I’m as big as a house and unable to see my feet?” she teased, her pulse racing as he skimmed his palms down her arms and took her hands in his.
“Especially then.” He lifted first one palm and then the other and grazed kisses over her skin. “You’re important to me.”
Breathless with delight, she practically floated down the hall to the elevator and then across the lobby to where a town car awaited them. When Oliver slid in beside her, Sammi snuggled against his side, absorbing his heat and breathing in his spicy masculine aftershave.
“You smell good,” she sighed on a soft purr.
“Keep that up and I’ll be tempted to skip the party and take you back home.”
Sammi delighted in his threat, regretting that she let her nerves get the better of her earlier. Why couldn’t she just enjoy how well they were getting along and not expect anything more? Of course, thanks to her pregnancy, she couldn’t pretend that their connection was complication-free. Where most couples had months or years to decide about the future with a baby coming, Sammi needed to figure out where she and Oliver stood sooner rather than later.
They spoke little during the drive from her Midtown apartment to the Upper East Side penthouse where the party was taking place. Sammi’s excitement about the evening ahead was only matched by her nervousness. She’d attended several after-parties during New York fashion weeks, but never on the arm of someone as well-known as Oliver Lowell.
His large hand warmed the small of her back as
