Lord, she’d had too much champagne if she was fantasizing about sex with him even with people around. Stop! Stop! Stop!

But he was only inches away, his hard, muscled thigh warm against hers, his brute strength even more potent in the darkness and she was so crazily turned on, she was trembling. Clenching her thighs against the raw ache throbbing deep inside, she wished it hadn’t been so long since she’d had sex, frantically prayed that the play would soon be over, tried not to look at the lewd scene on stage.

But the pretty blonde tied to the chaise was panting loudly now, the man moving into position behind her and, sexually mesmerized, Kate waited, breath held, for the stark moment of penetration. Seconds later, Ned swung his hips forward, his enormous erection disappeared from sight and a widespread moan rose from the audience.

Since the couple was positioned so everyone could see his huge dick sliding in and out – over and over and over again – the ensuing performance provoked a low, rhythmic murmur of commentary and approval. As if in response, the man’s erection lengthened, swelled to gigantic proportions, and the actress’s cries intensified – whether in pleasure or pain was uncertain.

Kate was squirming now. She should have worn panties, she was ruining her dress, she thought in one of those housekeeping moments quite separate from the tumult in her brain. Could she escape?

Not unless Dominic Knight moved.

Fuck, she was trapped. No, no, no, wrong word. Don’t even think it.

Seated beside Kate, his arm on the top of the banquette, Dominic had been watching her, not the play; he’d seen the tableau before. So he was aware of her increasing discomfort. Aware as well of her volatile passions. Miss Hart was a hot little thing. Impatient, too. His nostrils flared slightly at the thought.

He wanted to take her to one of the private rooms and fuck her till morning, his libido loudly seconding the motion. Her job was finished; why not? Although he’d have to decide quickly. She was at a point where his intervention was required or she was going to come right here in front of everyone.

Sliding out of the banquette, he stood and held out his hand. ‘I’m taking Miss Hart home,’ he said to no one in particular. ‘It’s getting late.’

Desperate to escape, Kate grabbed his hand as if he was her lifeline in a storm.

He ignored her feverish gasp as their fingers touched, ignored his surging dick, pulled her to her feet and quietly said, ‘Let’s get your coat.’ He deliberately caught her by her shoulder as he guided her from the room, needing to touch her.

She tried to pull away.

He tightened his grip. ‘It’s dark,’ he said, his breath warm against her ear. ‘We don’t want you to stumble.’

He was too close, his body heat like flame to her senses, his voice in her ear melting through her like original sin. Oh God, could she withstand the relentless tremors driving her to orgasm? She had to, had to, had to! But all she could think of was the scene on stage, all she wanted was Dominic Knight doing to her what the actor had been doing to the actress. She whimpered, a tiny, suffocated sound.

A room, he thought, shoving the padded leather door open.

Definitely.

But the moment they entered the foyer, she broke away and ran.

He smiled. There was something to be said for a game of pursuit. She wouldn’t go far without her coat and even an assertive woman like Miss Hart might think twice before travelling alone in the revelling crowds outside.

Quickly collecting her coat, he dipped his head to the concierge as he passed his desk, the man spoke in rapid Dutch and Dominic grinned. Then a servant opened the door for him, and a moment later he was out on the street.

She was standing to the right of the door, shivering, warily eyeing a crowd of young men coming her way. He stepped between the raucous group and her and held out her coat. ‘You’re cold,’ he said.

‘I wish,’ she whispered, turning to slide her arms into the sleeves.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, pulling her coat up on her shoulders, turning her back to face him. ‘That’s a lot to take in. Or rather too much to take in.’ He softly exhaled. ‘Sorry, poor choice of words. Would you like me to call my car?’

She drew in a shuddering breath, desire still raw, all-consuming, unsated and beating at her brain. ‘No, no – thank you. Does the office – staff do this … often?’ she stammered, trying to appear calm. Like him.

‘I’m not sure. I could ask Max.’

‘No – don’t.’ She noticed the young men gave him wide berth and wondered if he’d said something she hadn’t heard. ‘It really – doesn’t … matter.’

Such trembling innocence was the ultimate temptation. ‘We’re only a few blocks from the house. You don’t mind walking then?’

‘No, no … I’d prefer walking. It was hot in there.’

He suppressed a smile. ‘You’ll cool off now. It’s cold tonight.’

He hadn’t worn a coat but seemed immune to the temperature and to her carnal agitation. He carried most of the conversation on the way back, but then he spent his life being sociable to people he wouldn’t bring home to dinner. Not that Miss Hart fell into that category. She might look real fine across the table from him on occasion.

On occasion, the operative phrase.

But by the time they entered the town house, he’d sorted out all his uncertainties. Miss Hart was too innocent to exploit.

When they reached her apartment, he opened the door for her then stepped back. ‘Thanks for your help with the Bucharest problem. Max will have you flown home tomorrow. I enjoyed your company this evening.’ He turned to go.