Free My Immortal by Erin McCarthy Page B

She was going to stick to Damien like white on rice, keep her mouth shut, and not make eye contact with anyone, since apparently that could be misconstrued as an invitation to touch her nipple.
    “If you see your sister, you will whisper delicately in my ear, and then I will handle it.”
    Marley said, “Fine,” but couldn’t quite prevent an eye roll. She wasn’t totally clueless. She wasn’t going to grab Lizzie by the hair. She could be discreet. Her whole life was about discretion, about not rocking the boat, about settling everyone back down.
    Attention was not her friend. She much preferred to observe than to be observed.
    Damien laughed softly, taking her hand and lacing her fingers through his. “That was quite a smart-ass look on your face. Now don’t let go of me. You look very rich and decadent in that bikini and there are plenty of men here who’d love to eat you for dessert if you give them the slightest encouragement.”
    Marley just nodded, pondering his word choice. She kind of liked the sound of that. She wasn’t overweight, she was decadent.
    Damien pulled her into the living room, moving along the right wall, behind the sofas and tables, slowly around the perimeter of the room. There were people talking, the light from the candles bouncing off various pirate costumes ranging from crisp, just-out-of-the-bag discount-store quality to a very authentic, shabby-looking outfit on one man who had broad shoulders and the legs of a professional athlete. He glanced at her, his lips on the neck of his companion, and Marley shifted her gaze away.
    The women were all dressed in the requisite bikini, some retro, some tiny scraps of nothing, others perky and colorful. Two women she saw were already out of their tops, both with men lavishing attention on their breasts. The blonde was stuck to one dark-haired guy, the brunette actually had two men, one on each breast. Maybe it felt fabulous, but Marley thought it looked weird, just a little too mammalian for her tastes. So busy staring, just a little shocked, Marley ran into Damien’s back.
    He had stopped walking, and she grabbed his shoulder with her free hand to steady herself. Her heart was pounding, adrenaline high, and she felt like she had when she was sixteen and she’d let Lizzie talk her into sneaking into a cemetery. Like then, she knew now what she was doing was a bad idea, and the fear of discovery, of getting in trouble, of punishment, was added to the little jolt of excitement that she was doing something she shouldn’t, something just a bit naughty.
    She’d never, ever seen someone else engaging in this casual foreplay. She’d never even seen herself engaged in foreplay. As she clung to Damien’s back, she marveled that everyone looked so relaxed, so unconcerned, so disinterested in what was going on around them. A quick count showed twelve people in the room, including the skinny guy who had escorted her in. He was talking to a very thin woman with dark hair, his hand on her knee, stroking.
    “Looked at everyone?” Damien whispered over his shoulder.
    “Yes. She’s not here.”
    Damien moved out of the room, through the doorway with a transom window above it, into what looked like a library, the thick mahogany built-in bookcases filled with row upon row of books.
    “That wasn’t so bad,” she whispered, glancing back over her shoulder. Inappropriate, but not entirely a porno flick.
    Damien startled her by turning completely around and looking down at her. She was suddenly very aware all over again of how nearly naked she was. Why did the men get pirate outfits and she was stuck in a bikini? She was sure she could have really rocked a nineteenth-century ball gown. That would have been so much better.
    She couldn’t see his eyes, but his expression looked enigmatic in the candlelight. “Not bad enough for you, hmm?” he murmured. “That was only the reception room, Marley. No need to be disappointed.”
    “I wasn’t