Tabitha bent sideways and slipped her high heel back on, reaching down to buckle up the straps. A flash of white teeth gleamed as she bit down on her bottom lip. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry for earlier," she whispered.

My entire body winced as an echo of fiendish pain stabbed me in the balls, and I found myself covertly kneading the boys to reassure them it wouldn't happen again—hopefully.

Tabitha pulled an apologetic face as she adjusted herself to sit upright once more. "I got a fright when Miss Grabby Hands sat down."

Raising the glass of whiskey to my lips, I grinned into my drink. "You can tell it sorry, later on."

Tabitha clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the laugh, the gold in her sea green eyes shimmering like sunlight. Her hand dropped away to the table, pooled with liquid that had splashed from glasses with the drunkenness of Oswin and his guests. She stroked a fingertip through the droplets and smeared moisture across the polished wood before darting a sidelong glance at me beneath the black fringe of long eyelashes. "Maybe I might just do that."

I sat up straighter. I liked the sound of that and my cock tapped its approval against my thigh too. As she drew her fingers around a thick sheaf of hair to toss it over her shoulder, a need to tousle her locks even further burned through me. There wasn't a single piece of jewelry adorning her neck or wrists tonight, and in the simple dress with her unassuming beauty she didn't need it, but I was eager to hunt through my family's treasure trove and find priceless gems wrought between twinings of silver and gold and have her wear them, and only them, just for me.

My gaze continued south, along her graceful throat and down her chest to those perky breasts swelling provocatively out of the top of her dress. On our dates, she'd worn charming but modest dresses, and I'd never seen her in anything so short and seductive before. Neither had her colleagues, since they kept hovering closeby, and shot appreciative glances her way when she crossed her long legs and smoothed down the skirt that ended mid-thigh.

Jealousy formed a bitter rock in the pit of my guts and I fixed my gaze on my drink, reminding myself that though no one knew it, Tabitha was here with me. I frowned. "I thought your aunt was making something for you to wear."

Tabitha shook her head, more to herself than me. The smokey lighting caught the glitter that had been sprinkled into the long locks and sparkled like quartz veined with gold. Her nose scrunched as she said, "Ugh, she did." Squiggling back in the booth she got comfortable before carrying on. "It was terribly sweet of her, but the tartan suit looked more appropriate for office work." She toyed with the tie knotted beneath her bust, and my fingers itched to untangle the tie and have those glorious tits spill into my hands. I tore my gaze away and cleared my throat, adjusting myself beneath the table as I began to harden up once more.

Tabitha pinched the hem of her dress between her fingers. "This is actually the skirt Aunt Ellena made, but Beckah, Marissa, and Rosa changed the outfit up and turned the skirt into a dress."

I tapped the round tumbler, gone warm from my grip, with my forefinger. "Rosa, huh?" Rosa had extended her stay at the Deniauds' because she had a massive crush on Harding Lyon. Harding and Forrestor had been using any and every weak-ass excuse they could conceive to swing by for a visit. It was so obvious that Forrestor was infatuated with Marissa, and interestingly, over the past couple of days I'd seen her slowly begin to notice him. It seemed they were finally moving from childhood rivals to being on the brink of something else, something new.

Tabitha leaned forward to prop her elbow on the table and rest her chin on her fist. She dropped her voice lower to imitate mine. "Baby Battagli."

I rolled my eyes, swilling back a mouthful of whiskey.

Her eyebrows nudged together. "What does V.V. stand for?"

"No idea," I blatantly lied. Rosa had shortened her nickname for me from Vain Varen to V.V. Even glowering at her and threatening to turn Fluffy into a fur coat hadn't stopped Rosa from using it. I shifted in the seat, rubbing my spine against the cushioned backrest as irritation at Rosa's nickname tightened the muscles in my shoulders.

Tabitha's smile became wide and toothy. "You like her."

I scoffed, "She's annoying."

"No, she's not," she retorted, slyly nudging my upper arm with the back of her wrist. "I've seen you two together in the grand parlour for drinks after dinner with the Deniauds. You're different with her, softer and more at ease. She makes you laugh." She quickly qualified it, eyes rounding pointedly. "Not out loud. Gods forbid you let your sour, bored expression slip in company, but I see your eyes light up whenever she says something funny." She tipped her head to the side, giving me a shrewd thoughtful look as she stirred the ice cubes with her straw before wiggling her eyebrows. "I think you, Mister Crowther, have made a friend."

As much as it vexed me, Tabitha was right. Rosa and I were tentatively forming a friendship, even I recognized it as such. It was odd, but welcome.

Across the table, Oswin suddenly smacked his hand on the table as a new song broke through the club. "I love this song!" He tossed his cigar ash into a silver tray with unrestrained excitement and pointed a finger at Tabitha. "Time to MC Hammer dance, Best Man."

Tabitha snapped straight, beaming back at her friend, both of them bopping their shoulders to the music and singing.

Oswin shuffled across the seat, rising and taking Tabitha's hand to assist her to stand in her six-inch heels. Before the both of them could disappear to the dance floor I rapped my oxford-clad foot on the floor, bouncing my knee. "Trust Fund Baby?" I scowled, crossing my arms over my chest, referring to earlier. "You couldn't go for something like—"

"Importing and Exporting?" Tabitha replied, blinking back at me innocently.

"Well, yeah."

Tabitha and Oswin threw their heads back and erupted into loud, offensive laughter, the howling, guffawing kind.

What the hells?

It wasn't just Tabitha and Oswin, it was the other guys seated around the table who'd overheard the conversation with Miss Grabby Hands. All of them shook with gleeful chortling, their drinks spilling over the lip of their glass, cheeks going red with their uncontainable amusement at my expense.

Oswin clapped his hand on Tabitha's shoulder and both of them collapsed into one another as their laughter continued, shaking through their bodies. "Trust Fund Baby—good one Tabitha."

Seemingly, it was so fucking funny they couldn't stop laughing. It was an uncomfortable full minute before Tabitha and Oswin slowly collected themselves. She wiped the tears from beneath her eyes with a knuckle. "I know, I know," she snickered, and then drew in a shuddering breath then blew it out with a hand pressed to her middle. "Importing and Exporting—the standard vague line everyone uses. But Trust Fund Baby is an ongoing joke within my world of servants. That's what we refer to you as behind your backs."

Startled, I glanced around the table and no-fucking-one could meet my eye. Everyone had somewhere more interesting to suddenly be looking. I had no idea the servants did that. Is that how they saw us? Rich and spoiled and unable to do anything for ourselves?

"I have a job," I drawled, returning my astounded gaze to Tabitha and poking myself in the chest with a finger.

"We're well aware you do, Mr. Crowther," Oswin interceded.

"I'm not a Trust Fund Baby."

Tabitha wrinkled her nose, her weight shifting to one leg as she toed the floor with the other. "You have to admit, Mr. Crowther, that most of the upper ranks wouldn't even know how to work a toaster."

"Doubtful they'd even recognize one," muttered Oswin, raking a hand through his hair.

Before I could part my lips to argue further—frankly, I wasn't sure I could win that argument—Tabitha's colleagues gravitated around her with chimes of, "You promised me the next dance."

She raised her hands, palms outward to pacify everyone. "We can all dance together." And then she bounced on her heels with her arms in the air, snapping her fingers and wiggling her hips, earning a roar of approval when she yelled, "No one misses out on a dance with Tabitha Catt tonight!"

Envy swelled like a dirty cloud and hit the back of my throat with a bitter slap as Oswin tugged Tabitha away. I was up after them in a heartbeat, threading through the club where they created space to dance together with Tabitha right in the middle. I wasn't the biggest fan of MC Hammer, but what the hells. Soon enough the song faded away and the neon strobe lights pulsed to a new beat as the electronic vibe of New Order and Blue Monday pounded through the Club. Enjoyment of just dancing poured through my body, adding to the heady buzz of intoxication and being in Tabitha's orbit.

Tabitha was endless smiles as she shimmied her shoulders, her hair bouncing up and down and swishing side to side as she kicked up those long legs. The guys were respectful, but jealousy was a dark fire in my gut, burning bright as inflamed coal when they inched closer.

My skin began to itch with the covetous attention the women dancing nearby were giving me. A brunette beauty moved right in front of me, swinging her hips and devouring me with blatant bedroom eyes. Her wandering hands silently suggested we take this elsewhere. I accidentally bumped her with my hips, sending her staggering out of our group, and Tabitha accidentally stabbed the next girl with her rockstar heels when she tried to move in on me.

More and more women slinked into our midst, dissolving our group into smaller ones. Oswin had enough after three songs and pushed his way back to the VIP section, and while everyone wasn't looking, I grabbed hold of my chance. I scooped Tabitha up and, in a whirl of speed, vanished into the throng of heaving bodies.

Tabitha laughed breathlessly as I wove us to the furthest corner of the vast club. Underneath the balcony of the second floor, we were enshrouded with shadows, clouds of smoke, and surrounded by dancers who were only interested in each other. Finally, I had her all to myself.

I placed her down on the ground and she pressed her lithe body closer, trailing the flat of her hand down my shirt, along the length of my tie to playfully tug the ends, sending a blitz of fierce emotion through my blood, primal and almost violent, that she was back where she belonged, in my arms.

"I'm glad you came," she smiled.

Cocking a disbelieving eyebrow, I ran a hand up her satiny throat to beneath her chin to angle her face upward. "Are you? Because earlier, you seemed fucking annoyed with me bullying my way into the Stag Party."

"It's fun, all this sneaking about," she whispered back. She darted a sidelong glance at the dancers encroaching on our territory before bringing her wide-eyed gaze back to mine. "I never realized how exhilarating it could be."

"You're only saying that now because you're fueled with dutch courage."

Her laughter was as vivid and bright as sunlight. "You're probably right. I'd never dare to do this sober."

My eager hands slinked along those delectable curves to round her sides and splay over the dip in her spine, molding her soft figure to my body. "I had to come. I'm not going to see you tomorrow."

She sighed, linking her hands around the back of my neck, and guiding my head down as she rose up on her toes. "It's just tomorrow and I'll be seeing you the evening after the wedding." She went to kiss me but I ducked last minute, lowering my mouth to swirl my tongue over the sensitive spot in the crook of her neck. She gasped softly, her fingers fisting the short cut of my hair. I slid my nose upward along her throat, my breath hot on her skin, the sonorous vibration of my hungry groan making her moan huskily. Her hips moved against mine in a slow, erotic dance as I nipped tiny kisses along her jaw. "I'm starved for you," I breathed, just as I claimed her mouth and kissed her, slow and gentle and deep, drinking up that summer taste of hers, willingly drowning in it.

We kissed for the entire song and when Santa Esmeralda filtered through the club with Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood, it was a song that spicy-romance-reader Tabitha instantly recognized was dirty-as-fuck. We drew apart, tangling our hands together, and danced. She twirled, teasing me by flitting out of reach every time I tried to pull her in, and after I let her have her fun, I eventually spun her around and hauled her in so I could grind into her perky ass, both of us laughing, high on life and drunk on the feel of one another.

Two dances later we headed back to the VIP section separately, and the fun continued in between Tabitha coming and going from the dance floor, fulfilling her promise everyone would get a dance with her tonight.

To my surprise, in a brash move, she pinched my ass when she asked for a refill of water at the bar and I was there demanding the hotel's kitchen do me a favor by making the Stag Party a late-night round of burgers, pizza, and fries to soak up the alcohol.

Half an hour later, we snuck away to a gloomy alcove tucked away on the second floor of the club for a messy and harried kiss while I pretty much dry fucked her up against the wall.

And while we sat around the booth, the servants bemoaning the upcoming birthday party of Sanela's and all the work drama it would involve, I slipped my hand under Tabitha's skirt to skim my fingers along the hem of her panties. I never went any further than just the edge of her inner thigh, my knuckles lightly grazing her ever-dampening center as I swept my fingertips back and forth. I thoroughly enjoyed her lashes fluttering lower as her eyes darkened in a sensual haze, how her fingers desperately clutched her glass of water, and the way she stuttered and faltered and lost track of the ensuing conversation.

A moment later, Tabitha's fingers clamped around my wrist and wrenched my hand away. Leaning across the table she told Oswin, "I'm going to dance for a bit." Her friend waved a drunken hand, and as she slid out from the booth she slyly mouthed to me—Are you coming? She hurried to catch up with a group heading to the dancefloor, but as they descended the steps she darted away at the last minute and instead headed toward the entrance to the VIP's private restrooms.

I finished my drink leisurely, even though I was humming with excitement, and excused myself.

The corridor glowed with soft light and I passed a few guys with their arms slung around one another as they stumbled on their way back from the gents into the chaos of Oswin's Stag Party. With quick strides, my heart beating fast, I headed to an inner recess where I sensed Tabitha was standing in front of the women's restroom door.

Coming to a standstill, I leaned a forearm above her head, casting a shadow over her figure. "Why, hello there."

"Hello yourself, Mr. Crowther." She lifted the ends of my tie and wound them around a wrist, backing into the women's restroom and leading me inside.

Surprise cracked through me. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"I've already checked, no one's in here," she reassured with a flirty toss of her long hair. "I want to cross a few things off my list."

Public make-out sessions were quickly becoming our thing and I had no idea what she was up to or what these things on her list entailed, but I was all in.

The bathroom was opulent with pearlescent finishings, the walls shimmering with embossed wallpaper, but even I was shocked at how nice the women's restroom was compared to the men's. I mean, they had wider stalls, deep sinks backed by full mirrors trimmed in silver, tissues and round make-up mirrors perched on the vanity, and super soft-looking hand towels. Spicy perfume floated in the air, accompanied by a gentle fragrance wafting from fresh blooms of lilies in enormous crystal vases. Our footfall on the marble floor rebounded as we passed a series of high-backed velvet seats in the middle of the room. Everything looked and smelled luxurious without the distinctive undertone of piss that the men's always had.

How come theirs was so much nicer than ours?

Tabitha kept walking backward and kicked a stall door open behind her. With a wholly wicked smile curving her scarlet lips, she roughly yanked me inside by my tie, and I startled with a gasp as I was jerked forward. Her slender, warm body pressed against me as she leaned close to reach behind and slam the door shut before forcefully shoving me up against it. My body thumped and rattled the door, the handle stabbing my lower back before I adjusted myself and slid sideways. Ordinarily, I didn't allow myself to be manhandled, but Tabitha's mood was intriguing.

"I'm so turned on right now and that's your fault." Fumbling fingers worked feverishly at unknotting my tie, but before she tugged it free I closed my hands around hers to stop her.

Internally I groaned, my cock aching with a desperate need for whatever was on her list, but I had to make sure. "You're drunk."

Tabitha shook my hands off. The ends of the tie poked through her fists as she sawed it back and forth beneath the fold of my starched collar, the friction warming the back of my neck. "You are too," she replied with an impish grin.

Her sexy dimple made me bite my upper teeth on my bottom lip so hard it stung, and I cursed myself for saying, "I don't want to take advantage of you."

"You're not taking advantage of me." She used the tie to force my head to bow as she rose up to claim my mouth. I sighed into our kiss, my lips soft and compliant, letting her plunder my mouth with a rakish tongue. Distantly I was aware of my tie being whipped free, the heat of her greedy hands sliding across my pecs, and a silky flick against my forearms as she guided my hands behind my back. I was blissfully lost in our mind-bending kiss. The vibration of her moan as she slid her tongue along my teeth, swiped the roof of my mouth, her delightful breasts rubbing against my chest. Before I knew what was happening I found my wrists were bound together, my belt was deftly undone in a flurry, the button and zipper too. With the heaviness of the belt, my pants slithered to my ankles in a rattle of metal and leather and woolen fabric. My boxer briefs were next, only shoved down mid-thigh to trap my legs together. Tabitha pulled back only so far as to ghost the words against my lips, a razor-sharp glint in her eyes. "I'm taking advantage of you."

My cock bobbed beneath the hem of my dress shirt, tenting it.

Holy Zrenyth, that was the hottest thing I'd ever heard.