Lila

She saw Dane hesitate before she turned away and her stomach dropped. But she forced herself to keep moving. If he wasn't going to do anything about that invitation, well, he could marinate in his own juices. He had no one else to blame.

​​

The wide, decorative halls of the museum were mostly dark down here, though occasional dim lights seeped out of exhibition rooms on the sides of the hall. She paused when she reached another intersection of hallways and looked back, listening.

It was with relief that she heard a single set of footsteps clicking up the hall behind her. And moments later he appeared at the turn she'd taken to get into this hall. She waited until he caught sight of her and his steps picked up, then she turned down a hallway that was essentially black.

This was dangerous, she knew. There were a lot of people here tonight. But this corner of the Museum was very quiet. Most were staying closer to the free alcohol, or the dancefloor. She saw no one as she hurried down the hall, pausing at one more doorway until Dane rounded the corner behind her—he was catching up with her, his long legs eating the space between them.

She smiled to herself as she ducked into the little alcove. It would hide them from anyone who did wander down the hallway, give them time to hear anyone coming.

But once she'd stepped into it and noted the little fire-extinguisher on the side wall, there was nothing to do but wait. So she stood, awkwardly, facing the opening and listening to his sharp footsteps getting closer.

When he finally rounded the corner and found her so close, he froze. The look in his eyes stopped her breath. His eyes were dark and brooding, his jaw tense. But it wasn't anger.

Dane was on a tight leash—and about to slip his collar.

They stared at each other for a second, then she swallowed and opened her mouth. But his voice tore out of him. "Don't speak."

He descended on her like he'd burst through the bars of a cage. One hand cupping her neck, the other sliding down her back, he pressed her against the wall behind her and his lips took hers. She sucked in the breath he'd stolen as he used his thumb to tilt her head so he could deepen the kiss, groaning in his throat as she tangled her tongue with his.

Gone was his careful restraint. Gone was his fear of discovery. Lila gasped as he slid one hand down to the side slit of her dress, cupping her thigh, his fingers sliding against her, then he pulled it back to hook her knee over his hip and ground against her, gasping her name. Her head was thrown back against the wall and she gripped his shoulders, unable to do anything at his onslaught, but hold on.

His kisses were deep and desperate. He gasped her name, swearing when she reached inside his tuxedo jacket and began tugging his shirt out of his pants.

And always, always, he kept that rolling, rhythmic contact between them that promised so much more.

Her skin pebbled as he dropped his head down to kiss his way down her neck to her collarbone then, groaning, lifted her so she was pinned against the wall. The panels of her skirt fell between them as she wrapped her legs around his waist, hooking her ankles behind him. He cupped her butt with one hand, supporting her, as the other climbed her thigh, now bare to the night air and pebbling with goosebumps where he touched.

"Dane!" she gasped.

He answered by grinding against her, the angle so perfect now, they both moaned.

"We can't. We can't," he hissed, but his voice shook, like he was trying to convince himself. He buried his face in the cleavage left bare by the dress, his tongue flat on her skin, and she whimpered holding him so he wouldn't pull away.

"Fuck I love you," he rasped against her skin. "I can't do this, Lila, I can't let other—"

The click was quiet, but very distinct. But it was the flash that made Lila gasp and freeze.

With a roar of rage, Dane slid her to her feet and whirled after the footsteps now sprinting down the hallway. They both pushed out of the alcove, but Dane turned, his face twisted in rage and fear, "Don't let anyone see you!" and took off, sprinting after the shadow that was already whipping around the corner down the hall. He left Lila standing, alone, trembling with desire and fear, her hands over her mouth.

*****

Dane

No. No. No. No. NO.

His feet flew, his jacket flapping behind him as he pushed himself down the hall faster, faster, faster. But whoever it was had too much of a head start. As he rounded the corner ahead, the figure—in dim light and at pace, all he could tell was that the person was relatively small and trim. Male, female, young, old, he couldn't see enough to tell.

Fuck!

His feet thundered around the last corner, and down the short hall to the bar, but the crowd had grown even further. There were pillars and bunches of people…after the dim halls, the light was overwhelming. But despite not slowing, as Dane weaved through the crowd, still running, there was no sign of the person he'd been pursuing.

He got to the end and the ballroom opened up before him. Hundreds of people in glittering gowns and trim suits and he slowed to a halt, his pulse thundering in his ears.

No. No. No. No. NO.

Someone had a picture of her. They'd take it to his father.

NO.

Dane heard a shriek and adrenalin shot through him. He whipped around, hands already clenched to fists—to find a red-faced Chris against the wall with a laughing Tish literally hanging off his arm.

"Okay, okay, Tish, I think it's time to head home," he said, chuckling. The smile didn't reach his eyes.

Dane rushed to them and, ignoring Tish's shrieking laughter, grabbed Chris by the lapels. "Did you see anyone? Anyone at all? Running out of the-the bar?"

"What? No. What are you talking about?" Chris spluttered. "You might notice I've kind of got my hands full." He said, nodding down at Tish, but Dane turned back to the crowd, hands in his hair, pleading with god or whoever might hear him to show him the person. To make the photograph too dim.

They used a flash.

His chest heaved. He was going to be sick. His father was going to know. He was going to come after Lila—

"What's wrong, big brother?" Chris's voice was quiet, but quick. He knew a stressed-out Dane when he saw one.

Dane shook his head, swallowing again, and again. The room spun as he scanned it again, desperate.

His father was coming.

His father was coming. For Lila.