Gunmetal Magic: A Novel in the World of Kate Daniels

as fast as the waiters brought it out. A few people looked good and sauced on Anapa’s superior grog. The small talk went from weather and harmless gossip to spicier topics and meaningful stares as the booze lowered inhibitions.
    Raphael took my hand and led me to the middle of the floor.
    “What are you doing?” I asked through my smile.
    “If I have to listen to another recount of how Malisha from Accounting hooked up with Clayton from Legal, I’ll lose my mind.” He turned me, still holding on to my hand, maneuvering me into a classic dance pose. His arm slid around my waist and I shivered.
    “So you thought dancing would be better?”
    “Yes.” He began swaying. “Pretend to enjoy it.”
    “A handsome man, a great party, lovely food. What’s not to enjoy? Oh wait, the man is you.” I began swaying, too. I was really good at swaying. He would regret ever pulling me on this floor. “You like screwing with me, don’t you?”
    “Well, since we decided not to screw each other anymore, I have to get my fun somehow.”
    Since we’re playing that game…
I tilted my face up to his and gave him a lovesick gaze.
    “Do you have to sneeze?” he asked.
    “Be quiet. I’m pretending to enjoy your company, just as you said.”
    “Try not to strain anything.”
    “Oh, I won’t. I’m very good at faking it.”
    That shut him up.
    We kept swaying. Standing close to him like this, all butwrapped up in his arms, was pure torture. I leaned closer to him and made a small noise, not quite a growl, not quite a purr, made from desire and lust. Raphael focused on me, like a hungry cat on a mouse.
    “You should take me to the bathroom to make out,” I told him.
    A flash of ruby fire exploded in his irises and melted. He leaned closer, pulling me to him. “What?”
    “You should take me to the bathroom to make out,” I repeated into his ear. “There is no way we can make it up that staircase. We can use the bathroom window to get to the second floor.”
    Raphael’s hand slipped from my waist to cup my ass. A little electric zing dashed through me.
    “Wow, straight for the goods, huh?”
    “Can’t just make out right out of the blue.” Raphael’s grin was pure evil.
    We swayed for a bit more.
    Raphael squeezed my butt.
    “Seriously?”
    He shrugged a little. “Faking it, honey, you remember.”
    I wrapped my arms around his neck, stretched against him, like a lazy cat wanting a stroke.
    At the other end of the room someone shattered a glass. The room collectively turned toward the sound. Raphael took my hand and we quietly slipped away into the left hallway. It was mostly deserted. Two guys milled about at the wall, engrossed in a discussion that involved phrases like “asshole” and “like he runs the damn place.” They didn’t pay us any mind.
    A small sign on the door to the right said, BATHROOM .
    Raphael tried the door. The handle didn’t turn in his hand. Occupied.
    A security guy stepped out from the room down the hallway, a severe unsmiling block of a black suit complete with an earpiece.
    Raphael pushed me against the wall and braced my body with his, catching my right arm above my head and pinning it against the wall with his left. The oldest cliché in the playbook.
    He studied my face for a tiniest second, bent down…His lips touched mine.
    I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him so badly and that need blocked out everything else. And why the hell couldn’t I kiss him? So what if he had a fiancée-to-be? I didn’t owe her anything. Being good was overrated.
    Raphael licked my lips, demanding, seducing. His teeth caught my lower lip, pulled lightly. I had him all to myself. In this moment he was entirely, completely mine.
    I opened my mouth.
    He lingered, kissing my lips, slowly, surely, as if we had all the time in the world and there was no need to hurry. Little electric shocks shot from my heart all the way to my fingertips.
    His tongue slid into my mouth and touched the tip of mine. He tasted like Raphael: spice, fire, and need wrapped into one. I licked him, inviting him in. We kissed, every stroke of his tongue, every touch of his hands caressing my body, magnified to an almost painfully intense sensation. Warmth spread through me, my body ready for more. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted his hands on my breasts. I wanted to pull his clothes off and run my fingers down the hard muscle of his chest. I teased him, enticing him, then pulling back, letting him think he could reclaim my