Free Possession (The Plus One Chronicles) by Jennifer Lyon

cage and instantly was swallowed up by a swarm of people trying to get his attention.
    Losing sight of him, she dropped her gaze to her wine. It was a crisp white, but she couldn’t recall what kind exactly.
    Her thoughts were full of Sloane. He was bigger than life, wearing power like a second skin. She was so out of her comfort zone here. Yet in the limo, she’d been comfortable enough to talk to him about her dreams for her bakery, and her fantasy of spanking. He made her feel safe and capable, not foolish for dreaming or depraved for a fantasy. She firmed her resolve. If she could handle talking to Sloane like that, she could handle this event.
    She lost interest in staring at her wine when a pair of black handcrafted leather loafers stepped into her line of sight. Slowly, she scrutinized the perfectly draped trousers and slim hips, to the black silk shirt covered by an exquisite jacket.
    Beneath the strong lights, his face captivated her, making her want to stroke the harsh outline of his jaw, trace his two scars—the one through his eyebrow was fainter than the one by his mouth. Words like cute didn’t go in the same sentence as Sloane. Jaggedly handsome worked. Sinfully sexy. Compelling and dangerous.
    He looked at her as if there was no one else in the room.
    “Don’t like your wine?”
    Focus. “It’s very good.”
    “You’re not drinking it.”
    “Sadly, the vintage doesn’t pair well with my limp.” It took effort not to check to make sure her scars were covered. The dropped hem of the dress helped hide them.
    He leaned over, bracing his hands on the arms of her chair. “Didn’t we just talk about you wanting to let go? You won’t fall while you’re with me.”
    His caramel-colored eyes seared her. Made her feel safe, protected and sexy. Made her want to let go of worrying about her leg and not embarrassing both of them for one second. Her heart drummed heavily. Being so close to him kicked up her pulse.
    “I can’t.” She’d done well so far, but she wasn’t going to risk stumbling and falling. Or a panic attack. It was important to her not to embarrass him tonight.
    “You can.” Covering her hand around the wineglass, he said, “Unless you need help doing it. Like having me feed the wine to you from my mouth.”
    She clenched her thighs at the streak of heat rushing through her. “You’re bluffing. There are at least a hundred people here.”
    His hand closed around hers and tugged the glass from her fingers. He took a deep drink, but the long column of his throat didn’t move. Slowly, he lowered the glass and closed in on her. The closer he got to her, the less she wanted to resist. The more she craved letting go. The seductiveness of trusting him melted her.
    When he was only an inch from her, Kat dug her fingers into her own thigh to stifle her moan of desire. A slight flush caused the scar by his mouth to appear white, jagged.
    “Sloane?”
    A sultry female voice shattered the moment.
    Sloane’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.
    For a tick of time, Kat thought he was going to ignore the voice to feed her the wine. And she would let him.
    Then he swallowed, shoved back and rose to his full height. He handed off the wineglass to a server and faced the woman. “Paloma.”
    Kat drew in a breath and closed her mouth as a woman in a fiery red dress that barely skimmed her thin thighs laid her hand on Sloane’s arm. “It’s been a long time.”
    Sloane took Kat’s hand and helped her to stand. “This is Kat Thayne.”
    “Nice to meet you.” The words flowed on autopilot, while Kat’s brain screamed out, Paloma the singer! Her trademark blonde hair fell in a shimmering sheet to her waist.
    She flashed a smile. “A pleasure, Kat. You’re with Sloane this evening, I take it?” Open curiosity flickered in her soft doe-brown eyes.
    “Yes.” Sloane tucked her hand into his elbow. “I hear you have a new CD coming out soon.”
    Her smile widened, and she bounced lightly on