While that was a sackable offence in its own right, and one he would deal with once this auction was over, it also played right into his hands.
Damn, the little dove looked good enough to eat. Gone was the sensible attire, and in its stead, was a vision in red. The dress hugged every one of her curves, and while it hid more than it concealed, the cut-out back showed off acres of creamy skin. She left her long blonde tresses loose, and they framed her face in soft waves and tumbled halfway down her back, playing peekaboo with the graceful curve of her spine. A wide band of fabric held the gown together in the middle of her back, a concession for a bra to support her ample rack, no doubt, and his mouth watered at the thought of sampling those curves. A thigh-high side slit revealed surprisingly long pins for someone so small, and the fuck-me stilettos on her slender feet would look damn good flung over his shoulders as he ate out her sweet little pussy. All that leashed passion he sensed in her would make for an explosive time in the sack no doubt, and he suddenly couldn't wait anymore. Some folks were dancing, and it would be the perfect excuse to hold her in his arms and to test her response to him.
Monique’s eyes widened, and the heavily made up brunette plastered a fake smile on her face when she spotted his approach.
“Mr. Bryce, so good to see you here. I thought you weren’t coming?”
Hannah swung round, and he caught the full glare of her expressive eyes before she lowered her gaze and murmured her own greeting. He didn't miss the flush of anger on her pale cheeks, or the way her breasts heaved with her sharp inhales. The little spitfire was wired all right.
"Have I interrupted something, here?" he asked.
Monique shook her head. "Of course, not. There was a simple misunderstanding with the scheduling, which I shall now sort out. Do excuse me, and Hannah was just telling me how much she loves to dance." Monique had the audacity to wink at him and then teetered away to have a word with the Master of Ceremonies. Hannah growled under her breath, fury coming off her in waves so palpable his dick gave up any pretense of behaving himself. Thank God for well-tailored trousers and the cover up his tuxedo jacket afforded.
"She is too much," Hannah finally said, and she shook her head when he offered his arm for her take. "No, I can't dance. I'll just step on your toes, and I need to stop her. She put me on that blasted auction sheet, and—"
His finger over her lush lips stopped her tirade, and this time her skin bloomed in the instant blush of aroused woman, as he leaned in and whispered in her ear.
“Hush now, little dove, you need to relax. The turnout is excellent. You should be very proud of yourself. As for being auctioned, think of the charity and all the money you could personally raise. Now sway with me. We’re attracting attention.”
Hannah bit back what sounded like a very unladylike swear word, when she seemed to realize that he had maneuvered them onto the dance floor. She made a grab for his shoulders when he slid his hand along her back and rested it on her skin, just above the line of her dress. A telltale gasp escaped her when he drew her in closer, and she no doubt noticed his erection. Logan began to move, and she followed, even as she shivered in his arms.
"Relax, you're shaking like a leaf. Surely dancing with me is not such an abhorrent thought?" Amusement tinged his deep voice, and Hannah drew a shuddering breath into her lungs and shook her head.
“No, sir,” she whispered.
“Good, because I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I spotted you in this dress. You look stunning by the way. Now, trust me, little dove, and just let yourself go. This will all work out just fine, you’ll see.”
A snort was her answer this time, but she did follow his lead and soon relaxed in his arms as the magic of the dance worked in his favor. He twirled her around the dance floor in ever faster moves, and when she stumbled it gave him the perfect excuse to pull her in even tighter. It was torture and bliss all rolled into one as her soft curves fit against the hard planes of his body, as though she was made just for him. A far too fanciful thought but with her short puffs of breath hitting his jaw, it seemed fitting. Logan rested his chin on her head, and something like a whimper escaped the woman in his arms, as she sank into his embrace. All too soon the dance was over and the strange bubble they’d been in evaporated.
“Thank you for the dance, sir, but I’ve got duties to attend to, so please let me go.”
“Logan, please. Surely, we’re familiar enough after that dance to be on first name terms?”
A shiver went through her, and she shook her head.
“I beg to differ, sir. We only danced, in full view of everyone, so that’s hardly—”
“I could arrange for a more private dance, if you prefer, sweet Hannah.”
Hannah scowled and pushed him away with surprising force for someone so small.
“No.”
With that, she turned and left him standing on the dance floor.
"We shall see about that, little dove." Logan murmured the words to her departing back and did what he came here to do, originally, network, while he kept an eye on his prey. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to not march over and plant his fist
