“Nothing, I…” My heartbeat fumbles as I try to think of a believable lie. “I’m fine.”
“You’re notfine.” He lays a hand on my shoulder, as if to steady me. As if I might collapse. “You’re shaking. Are you upset about the circle?” His frown deepens. “Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head, eyes downcast, but he won’t let me avoid him.
With a coaxing finger, he lifts my chin. “Then what happened since I saw you downstairs?”
What happened is standing ten feet away, hiding in the wardrobe.
“Nothing happened.” I pull in a breath, preparing to skirt the edge of honesty. “It’s the elixir. I think it’s still affecting me.”
“That’s not surprising. Dr. Morgan designed it to last for hours.” He reaches into the pocket of his dress slacks and withdraws a vial. “That’s why I brought the antidote, as promised.”
The small glass tube catches the lamplight, and something inside me recoils. An hour ago, I would have taken it without hesitation. Now it’s akin to betrayal.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. Words of objection, or at the very least, resistance, almost tumble from my mouth. But then he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and my thoughts scatter.
“Open,” he says, stepping closer and lifting the vial to my lips.
God help me, I follow his command.
The antidote hits my tongue, tasting of the power Oliver has over me. For several suspended moments, I hover somewhere outside myself, watching my body obey what my heart refuses to surrender.
His fingers glide down my collarbone to the top of my bodice. Then he dips lower, tracing lazy circles around my nipple, his thumb dragging the silk across the hardened peak. That single touch unravels me faster than it should. Before I can stop it, a shameful whimper slips out.
“There she is,” he says, voice low with satisfaction. “You have a tell, sweetheart. You flush when your pussy needs attention.” His mouth hovers at my ear. “I want the taste of you on my tongue.”
My core heats, a traitor to my heart and mind as I glance at the wardrobe.
Oh God.
The door’s cracked open.
I have to stop this, but I don’t know how without drawing Oliver’s suspicion.
Anxiety grips me.
“Oliver?”
“Hm?” He finds my zipper and draws it down in one smooth pull.
“Isn’t this against Mr. Davenport’s initiation rules or something?”
“I don’t see anyone but you and me in this room, Novalee.”
How wrong he is.
“But—”
He presses a finger to my lips. “Don’t get me wrong. Coy looks sexy as hell on you, but your body’s been begging for it all night, so allow me to oblige.”
Another tug on my dress, and it slips to the floor. He cups my bare breasts, molding them in his warm palms, catching mynipples between his fingers. With a hint of a grin, he pinches just enough to make me squirm.
“Should have brought a set of clamps.” He lets go only to pull me flush against him, hands kneading my asscheeks.
The elixir surges, unleashed by the antidote. My muscles clench, and the world seems to slam to a halt while the inertia of Oliver’s will carries me in its current.
He guides me to the mattress, then sinks to his knees, his possessive grip spreading my thighs open.