was owned by the party’s guest of honor, Robb DeWitt.
“I promise I’m good.” She eased a hand through the crook of his arm and squeezed. “Just please don’t abandon me the second we walk up in here. I need to get my balance on these heels first.”
Oliver’s laughter turned heads almost as much as Vectra’s dress. She was determined to enjoy herself. The little wiggle of anticipation haunting her spine was exciting, albeit annoying.
Vectra’s gown was fashioned from a shimmering, elegant material—a cross between silk and satin. She hadn’t known which, only that she loved it. Silver and turquoise ties secured the halter bodice that dipped scandalously low to the small of her bare back. The cool turquoise color was offset by the silver and turquoise folds of the skirt that flared elegantly about her ankles. Strappy silver heels peeked out to show off a fresh French pedicure.
She’d selected her dress with Qasim in mind even though her chances of seeing him were slim to none.
What the heck, she thought, smiling up and around at the energetic atmosphere.
She’d always enjoyed playing the odds whether or not they were in her favor.
Brother and sister spent the first ten to fifteen minutes greeting other guests they knew but parted ways soon after. Vectra had spotted someone she knew, and Oliver had no shortage of female acquaintances ready to pull him away with them.
Vectra laughed while hugging Derionte Weeks, the head chef for Dazzles.
“What are you doing out here when there are people to be fed?” she teased.
“I’m no fool, Vec. This is a self-service party.” He grinned, looking quite pleased with himself. “The buffet is up on the VIP level.”
“Smart man.” Vectra arched a brow.
Derionte shrugged. “We’re actually testing out some dishes to see which’ll make the cut for Qasim’s charity thing coming up.”
“That’s right.” Vectra had almost forgotten the Dazzles cook staff had a standing job to work the highly anticipated event. “All that business is gonna earn you guys more than a few enemies.”
Derionte rolled his eyes. “Look who’s talkin’. The standing wine order comes from none other than Carro’s.”
“Hey, I can’t help it if your boss has a weakness for the best,” Vectra reasoned.
The music tempo changed and the two laughing friends immediately began to dance in place, syncing their moves to the upbeat nineties single.
Vectra and Derionte weren’t out of place. Most of the people in the room had broken out into dance whether they were on the dance floor or not. The single had always been one of Vectra’s favorites. She tossed her arms above her head, winding her hips as the grooves had their way with her body. She lost herself in the tune and didn’t begrudge the pair of hands that had come up to steady her waist.
Smiling and happy to greet another dance partner, Vectra turned. She barely avoided stumbling when she saw that it was Qasim who had come up behind her. The song faded into another upbeat but more mellow single. It was another favorite, but suddenly Vectra wasn’t in the mood for dancing. Her heart was beating way too fast to allow such activity.
“Sim.” Derionte greeted Qasim, who side-stepped Vectra to give the man a hug and handshake. “I was just telling Ms. Bauer here that Carro’s wine was on tap for your charity event.”
Qasim returned his hands to Vectra’s waist, deliberately smoothing them across her hips. “I hope that made Ms. Bauer happy.”
“Continued business is always good.” Vectra put on an easy expression for Derionte and tried to keep her mind off the way Qasim kept her back to his chest.
“We should set up a tasting to decide what’d go best with my menu. Are your folks out there workin’ on any new blends, Vec?” Derionte queried.
“Always.” She rested a hand against his forearm. “We should discuss it with your boss. I haven’t even told him happy birthday yet.”
“He’s up in the VIP level.” Derionte chuckled. “Says he’s gonna wait ’til a little later to make his appearance.”
Qasim and Vectra groaned playfully over their old friend’s penchant for grand entrances.
“Derry!” A petite waitress in a tuxedo-styled serving dress made her way through the crowd. “We need you in the kitchen.”
Derionte rolled his eyes. “Duty calls. Hey, y’all go on up,” he ordered, clapping Qasim’s shoulder before he followed the waitress back through the robust crowd.
Vectra dropped her easy expression and turned a scathing glare upon Qasim.
“Who’d you come here with?” He took the lead of the conversation.
Vectra stepped back, disengaging his loose hold on her hip. “Are you prepared to answer the same question?”
He frowned. “What?”
“Please. Are you really that clueless? Or are you just trying to play dumb? Because you’re pitiful at it if you are.”
Qasim blinked, understanding pooling in his gaze as if something had clicked. “You think I brought someone here with me?”
“Didn’t you?”
“No.”
“Then what the hell is going on with you?” Whatever reservations she’d had vanished as her curiosity took hold. “Why would you say you don’t want to be friends anymore? Did I say something? Do something wrong—” She grew quiet when he caught her elbow in a firm, yet remarkably gentle grasp and pulled her away from the crowd.
Vectra held on to Qasim’s arm so she wouldn’t stumble on her chic, yet outrageously high heels. Qasim didn’t stop moving until he’d found an unoccupied remote section of the terrace. The structure ran the entire rear of Dazzles and overlooked the garden dining room below.
His hands smoothed up from her elbow to cup her slender neck, practically covering the entire column beneath a wide palm. His fingers played in the short crop of her blue-black hair where it tapered at her nape. His thumb tilted her chin up and back, studying the expression haunting her lovely face.
“Don’t be afraid of me, Vec. Don’t be afraid of me...” he whispered. The repeated words were silenced when his tongue outlined her mouth.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” he groaned, then took total possession of her mouth, backing her toward a remote corner of the terrace as he did so.
The contact was deep, seeking as he journeyed. He’d wanted her for so long and wasn’t about to be cheated from a second’s exploration.
Qasim invaded whatever personal space that existed between them as thoroughly as he invaded the sweet darkness beyond her lush lips. As close as he stood, he kept a hand at her hip, securing her against the smoothly finished wall at her back. He needed control—every ounce he could take. He knew that allowing her to be in charge of how close she got to him would very quickly get her stripped of a few choice articles of clothing as he helped himself to everything he needed from her.
* * *
Her tongue battled and engaged his as though it had a life of its own. Still, it took some time for Vectra to truly register that he was kissing her. She’d wanted it, had fantasized about it more times than she cared to admit—had pleasured herself over the way she’d imagined the experience. None of that even breached how wondrously shattering it was in reality.
God, but the man could kiss. He kept a hand firm at her hip when she so desperately wanted to seal herself against him. She had no complaints, however, about what she was being given leave to enjoy. He’d exchanged the ravenous intensity behind his lusty kisses for a more languid invasion.
Vectra reciprocated, winding