“What does that even—?”

Before he could finish the question, she closed the space between them, her hands sliding over his shoulders and her tits—holy fuck—her tits pressing firmly against his chest, so soft and ripe and full he felt like he might pass out. The blood rushed to his cock so fucking fast it left him dizzy. Actual dark spots blinked in front of his eyes for a second. Apparently, Dani’s chest was as dangerous as a spear tackle.

Made sense.

In that moment, everything inside Zaf—including the cold marble of worry that lived in his gut—got really still and really silent, really fucking quick.

An instant later, his body boomed back to life, every part of him hotter and harder than before. Raw, animal want ignited in his belly, spreading fiery tendrils through him until he vibrated with the need to touch her, grab her, something. His muscles tensed, his body tightened, the pulse of his blood ached beneath his skin. Then her hand cupped his face, and he was decimated. She looked at him with those eyes, those fucking eyes, and it felt . . . it felt like that moment in an apocalyptic film when the nuclear bomb drops. When an invisible force sweeps across a landscape—whoosh—and wipes out everything in its path.

What the fuck was this? He’d known she was beautiful, and charming, and hypnotic. He’d known he was kind of—okay, completely—into her. But what. The. Fuck. Was. This?

Something entirely new, that’s what. An alien species of lust. Did he kill it before it killed him, or watch and wait and see what happened?

“Try to look enamored,” she murmured, a laugh in her voice. Maybe she didn’t know he was dying. Yeah, that had to be it. She tipped her head back and looked up at him through her lashes, a dare in her eyes. “You could even kiss me, if you like.”

If he liked?

Zaf had spent more time than was healthy, over the six months since he’d met Dani, wondering if she might be attracted to him. Now she was looking at him like he was dessert, her tongue gliding over her plush lower lip, asking if he’d like to kiss her. Hell yes, he’d fucking like. But . . .

But she’d only suggested it because they were being watched, and knowing that cooled the burn of his desire, just a little.

Not enough to stop, though. She bit her lip again and shifted, every lush curve pressing tight against him, and in that moment, Zaf knew the only thing that could stop him was her. Good-bye, self-control. We barely knew ye.

“Unless you don’t want to,” she murmured after a moment, “which is also—”

“I want to,” he said, because fuck that noise. Fuck even letting her finish that bullshit sentence. And then, before he could change his mind, Zaf made the only sensible choice he could and kissed the life out of Danika Brown.

CHAPTER SIX

Every month, Dani and her sisters received money from the family trust, and every month, Dani donated 90 percent of it to various causes. Considering that charitable history, her agreeing to this fake relationship scheme was entirely in character: she was doing it, clearly, for the sake of the children.

Technically, that implied she was going to kiss Zafir in front of a group of spying undergrads for the children, too, but Dani had other reasons. This physical contact seemed a sensible way to determine whether Zaf might be seduced away from his romantic ideals and into her bed—temporarily, of course. Until she got bored of him. Or until he met someone else, someone serious, someone who didn’t accidentally work through their partner’s birthday parties or, when asked what day it was, respond with “The date of Sylvia Plath’s death” instead of “Our anniversary, of course, darling.”

Ahem. For example.

So, yes: kissing Zaf was entirely practical. Until it wasn’t.

One minute he was staring down at her with a slightly astonished expression; the next his endless eyes were hooded and one of his big hands was cupping her nape, the other grabbing her hip. It was around that point when Dani forgot the definition of the word practical, and also how to spell it, and also whether it was English or French or possibly Latin. One slight, restrained squeeze from Zaf, and her thoughts were thrust toward bare, sweat-slicked skin and gasping breaths, moans intermingling and thrusts timed with the pounding of her heart.

Then his lips brushed hers, and everything changed completely.

So soft, so sweet, that butterfly graze. A cautious, barely there kiss that made something in her belly seem to sparkle and fizz, that made her hands shake as she slid her fingers through the rough silk of his hair. Zaf tasted like rich, warm comfort and straightforward sweetness, sherbet-sharp and almost, impossibly, familiar. She could feel the tip of his nose against her cheek, could feel his eyelashes brushing her own. Time suspended, like he’d cupped the sands of an hourglass safely in his palms, and the sensation was so breathtakingly strange that she might do something awful, like crack into a thousand tiny pieces, or ask him for more.

He angled his head, increased the pressure, and parted her stunned lips easily, his tongue a dart that sampled her in little, teasing sips. The way he touched her, the way his big body curved around her, all that said possession. But the way he kissed her, slow and gentle, tiny gifts of pleasure rippling the surface of her still lake—the way he kissed her said care.

And it worked. Dear fucking Lord, did it work. Dani was helpless and hopeless and mindless in seconds, tilting her head and opening for him, rubbing her aching breasts against his chest because she knew without a doubt he was the source of all relief, pressing her thighs together as liquid heat ruined her knickers, clinging to him as the race of her heart and the thick honey of her pulse joined forces to make her breaths faint and her knees weak.

Then everything stopped.

Zaf pulled back, and awareness came to her in slow waves. First was the sound of him panting as if he’d run a mile, and that was satisfying enough to make Dani almost forget that he’d just wiped her mind clean with his mouth. Almost.

Second came the realization that her feet weren’t on the floor anymore. Apparently, he’d gotten tired of bending down for her and had simply wrapped an arm around her waist and . . . picked her up. Only a little bit, until their mouths were level. Now he put her down just as easily, her body sliding over his as he lowered her to the floor. There was a close, dark world between them, made up of shadows and those goddamn, dizzying pants. Of the hitch in Dani’s breath and the rigid line of Zaf’s erection, jabbing her stomach.

As far as seduction went, that was a wonderful start. Now, if only she was more certain of who had just been seduced.

“That was fun,” Dani managed after a moment, hoping she sounded more in control than she felt.

Zaf blinked rapidly, each flick of those long, dark lashes almost hypnotic. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough at the edges, crumbling like brick. “Okay. Yeah. That. Fun. You—think so?”

“Yes,” she repeated slowly, because he’d clearly gone a bit dizzy. At least she wasn’t the only one who’d temporarily lost control of her faculties. Dani leaned into his erection, and felt a wave of reassurance when he sucked in a breath and screwed his eyes shut. This was how things were supposed to go; people touched, bodies reacted, promises of pleasure were fulfilled. She gave what she was capable of, and he accepted.

Yes. All was absolutely in order. And if she’d felt some odd, additional, heart-pounding, hand-shaking need that was flavored distinctly like Zaf, as if he, specifically, mattered—well. Clearly, that was another sign. The universe’s final kick, just to make sure she took the hint.

“Are our watchers still here?” Dani asked, because someone had to say something, and she didn’t want to scare him off by suggesting they find an unoccupied bathroom somewhere.

“No,” Zaf said. “No, they’re gone.” Then he stepped back, putting some space between them, and said awkwardly, “I need to . . . get rid of this.” A nod southward.

A delighted grin spread over her face. “Zafir!” Maybe he’d be up for the bathroom after all.

“Not like that,” he snorted. “I meant I need you to leave.”

“Oh.” She tried not to pout. “Fair enough.”

“Sorry, by the way. About, er . . .”

“Stabbing me in the stomach with your massive cock? That’s okay.”

Zaf coughed, spluttered, managed to choke on fresh air, then bent double as he wheezed. Dani watched him in mild alarm. Clearly, it would take a while to open his starry, romantic eyes to his destiny of being casually screwed by one Danika Brown on a semiregular basis. Aaand Zaf was still coughing. Should she administer the Heimlich? Maybe, but she wasn’t entirely confident she could get her arms around him . . .