One month later. Four Seasons Hotel, New York

Kurt felt even more like a piece of meat than usual, yet he clamped down on his churlish thoughts and pasted on his best professional smile as the bidding continued.

The smack of the gavel beside him made Kurt flinch minutely.

The fact that the gavel was being wielded by a wellknown A-list Hollywood actor was not making the experience any easier.

Despite his years of experience as a top model, he was still acutely uncomfortable under scrutiny, but he had learnt to disguise it well.

'Twenty-five thousand. Twenty-five thousand dollars to the gentleman here in the front. Am I bid any higher?'

Kurt held his breath.

The man under the spotlight with the unctuous grin was a well-known Shipping magnate.

He was young, tall, thin and handsome, but he was a also a well know whore, and Kurt hated the way his beady obsidian eyes were devouring him as he practically licked his lips.

For a second Kurt felt intensely vulnerable and alone, standing here under the lights.

A shudder went through him. If someone else didn't…

'Ah! We've a bidder in the back…thirty thousand dollars from the new arrival.'

A rush of relief flooded Kurt and he tried to strain to see past the glaring spotlights to identify who the new bidder was.

It appeared as if the ballroom lighting technicians were trying to find him too, with the spotlight lurching from coiffed person to coiffed person, all of whom laughed and waved it away.

The bidder seemed determined to remain anonymous.

Well, Kurt comforted himself, whoever it was couldn't be any worse a prospect to kiss in front of all these people than Sebastian Smithe.

'And now Mr Smithe here in the front is bidding forty thousand dollars…things are getting interesting! Come on, People, let's see how deep your pockets are. How can you turn down a chance to kiss this handsome man and donate generously to charity?'

Kurt's stomach fell again at Sebastian's obvious determination…but then the actor spied movement in the shadows at the back.

'Fifty thousand dollars to the mysterious new bidder. Sir, won't you come forward and reveal yourself?'

No one came forward, though, and inexplicably the hairs rose on the back of Kurt's neck.

Then he saw the look of almost comic indignation on Sebastian�s face as he swivelled around to see who his competitor was.

The Man-whore's expression visibly darkened when someone leant low to speak in his ear.

He'd obviously just been informed as to the identity of the mysterious fellow bidder.

With an audible splutter Sebastian upped the ante by raising the bidding in a leap to one hundred thousand dollars.

Kurt held in his gasp at the extortionate amount, but his smile was faltering.

He became aware of the ripple of hushed whispers and a distinct frisson of excitement coming from the back; whoever this person was, he was creating quite a buzz.

And then whoever it was also calmly raised their bid—to a cool two hundred thousand dollars.

It didn't look as if his ordeal was going to end anytime soon.

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Blaine Anderson wasn't used to grand, showy gestures.

His very name was the epitome of discretion.

Discretion in everything: his wealth; his work; his life, and most definitely in his affairs.

He had a ten-year-old daughter.

He didn't live like a monk, but neither did he parade his carefully selected lovers through the tabloids in the manner so beloved of other men in his position: a divorced homosexual multi-billionaire male in the prime of his life.

None of his lovers had ever kissed and told. He made sure that any ex-partner was so well compensated he would never feel the need to break his trust.

Blaine always got out before any messy confrontations, and he always kept his private life very private.

None of his lovers ever met his daughter because he had no intention of marrying ever again, and to introduce them to Rosie would be to invite a level of intimacy that was reserved solely for his family: his daughter, sister and mother.

His lovers provided him with relief.

Nothing more, nothing less.

And yet here he was now, bidding publicly, albeit discreetly for the moment, in the name of charity, for a kiss with Kurt Hummel …one of the most photographed men in the world.

Because something in his mind and body was chafing, and for the first time in a long time he was thinking discretion could go fuck itself.

He wanted this man with a hunger he'd denied for too long.

A hunger he'd only recently given himself permission fully to acknowledge and to believe it could be sated.

And it had been a long time building…years.

He could see now that it had been building with a stealthy insidiousness into a subconscious need that was now very conscious…a burning necessity.

His mouth twisted; those years hadn't exactly been uneventful or allowed much time for contemplation.

A short-lived marriage and an acrimonious divorce, not to mention becoming a single parent, had taken up a large part of that time.

If he'd had the luxury of time on his hands he might have realised a lot sooner…He halted his thoughts.

It didn't matter.

He was here now.

His attention came back to Kurt, focused on Kurt, and he had the uncanny sensation of being in the right place at the right time.

It was a sensation he usually associated with business, not something more emotional

He corrected himself; this wasn't about emotion.

It was desire.

Unfulfilled desire.

Perhaps it was because he'd finally allowed himself to think of it again…that moment ten years ago…but it was as if the floodgates had opened on a dam.

It had been little more than a kiss, and yet it was engraved more hotly onto his memory than anything he'd experienced before or after.

It had taken all of his will-power and restraint to pull away from Kurt that night.

Since then Kurt had been strictly off-limits to him for myriad reasons: because that incendiary moment had shaken him up a lot more than he cared to admit; because he'd been so young and his little sister's best friend.

Blaine remembered the way his startlingly blue eyes had stared directly into his, as if he'd been able to see all the way into his soul.

As if he'd wanted him to see all the way into his.

Kurt had looked at him like that again only a few weeks ago.

And it had taken huge restraint for Blaine to allow him to retreat back into his shell, to ignore his intense desire.

Until now, when he knew he could get him on his own, could explore for himself if what he'd seen meant what he thought it did.

His sister's wedding had sparked off this burgeoning need, this awareness.

He hadn't been thrown into such close proximity to Kurt for years.

But all through the ceremony and subsequent reception he'd held Blaine back with that cool, frosty distance of his.

It was like being subjected to a chilly wind whistling over a deserted moor.

He'd always been aware of it…yet that day, for the first time in years, it had rankled.

His interest had been piqued.

Why was he always so cool,distant?

Admittedly they had a history that up until now he'd been quite happy not to unearth.

Blaine knew on some level that that night ten years ago had marked a turning point for him, and perhaps it was one of the reasons he'd found it so easy to relegate Kurt to a place he had no desire to reexplore.

Kurt�s studied indifference over the years had served to keep a lid on those disturbing memories.

And yet he knew he couldn't deny the fact that he'd always been aware of him…aware of how he'd blossomed from a slightly gauche teenager into a stunningly assured and beautiful man because Kurt wasn't handsome, he was fucking beautifull.

Blaine had thought he had that awareness and desire under control, but one night some years ago a guy had bumped into him in the street: caked in make-up, and wearing an outfit that was only a hair's breadth away from a stripper's.

The feel of his body slamming into him, his huge blue eyes looking straight up into his, had scrambled his brain and fired his libido so badly that he'd sent his date home that night with some pathetic excuse and hadn't been able to look at another man for weeks…turned on by a guy in a skanky outfit because he'd borne some resemblance to…

Blaine halted his wayward thoughts right there.

He chafed at the resurgence of something so minor he'd thought long forgotten…and at the implication that Kurt had occupied a bigger place in his mind than he'd admitted to himself.

He reassured himself that he'd had his own concerns keeping him more than occupied…and lovers who'd been only too warm and willing, making it easy to shut out the frosty indifference of one man.

Seeing Kurt just once or twice a year had hardly been conducive to stoking the embers of a latent desire.

But just a few weeks ago…at the baptism…Kurt had turned and looked at him and that cool facade had dropped for the first time.

He'd looked at him with such naked blatant need in those fathomless blue depths that Blaine had felt as if a truck had just slammed into him. For the first time Blaine had seen the heat of his passion under that all too cool surface.

It was a heat he hadn't seen since that night, when it had combusted all around them.

It could have ended so differently if he hadn't found a thread of control to cling onto.

In one instant, with one look, Blaine had been flung back in time, and all attempts to keep him off limits had been made redundant.

It was almost as if he'd been put to sleep after that night, and now, with a roaring, urgent sucking-in of oxygen, he was brought back to painful, aching life.

Kurt had clammed up again after a few moments, but it had been enough of a crack in his armour…

Blood heated and flowed thick through his veins as Blaine took him in now.

He was dressed in a dark blue suit, it was tight enough that showed off the strong line of his shoulders and his compact abdomen. His gorgeous hair—Kurt�s trademark—was coifed up perfectly framing his angelic face.

And even though Blaine was right at the back of the room those huge blue eyes stood out. His soft rose-pink lips were full, the firm line of his jaw and straight nose transforming banal prettiness into something much more formidable.

True beauty.

He was all angles and hard body but still managed to keep a sexy lushness that would have an effect on every gay man in that room and some women… something Blaine was very aware of.

Uncomfortably so.

He felt a proprietorial urge to go and sweep Kurt off that stage and out of everyone's sight.

It only firmed his resolve, strengthened his sense of right.

His eyes drifted down with leisurely and very male appreciation, taking in his magnificent ass, it was clear why he'd become one of the most sought-after models in the world.

Kurt was, quite simply, perfect.

He'd become a darling of the catwalks and was the face of a well-known lingerie company among countless other campaigns.

His cool, under-the-surface sensuality meant that people sometimes described him as cold.

But the problem was Blaine knew he wasn't.

He had the personal experience to know that Kurt was very, very hot.

Why had he waited so long for this?

Blaine clamped down on looking again at what had made him suppress his desire for so long… apart from the obvious reasons.

He dismissed the rogue notion that rose unbidden and unwelcome that he'd once touched something deep within him.

It must have been an illusion, borne up by the fact that they'd shared a moment in time, imbuing the experience with an enigmatic quality.

Kurt had displayed a self-possession at the age of eighteen that had stunned him slightly.

He had to remind himself that he'd overestimated Kurt�s naivety. Kurt had known exactly what he'd been doing then, and he was a grown man now.

Blaines's body tightened in anticipation.

He was a man of the world now …the kind of man he could seduce without remorse.

Kurt was no longer an innocent…A sharp pain lanced him briefly.

It felt awfully like regret, and Blaine crushed it back down.

He didn't do regret.

He would not let Kurt exert this sensual hold over him.

He would not let Kurt bring him back in time and reduce him to a mass of seething, frustrated desire with one look because of a kiss!

He would seduce him and sate this lust that had been burning for too long under the surface.

It was time to bring it out into the open.

All he could think about was how urgently he wanted to taste him again, touch him.

Kurt had once tried to seduce him.

Now it was Blaine�s turn.

And this time they wouldn't stop at a kiss.

His attention came back to the proceedings. He saw Smithe bid again. He had no intention of letting that man anywhere near Kurt's lush mouth. But the bastard was stubborn and out to prove a point…especially now that he'd been informed who it was bidding against him.

He and Sebastian were old adversaries.

Blaine casually made another bid, oblivious to the gasps and looks directed at him, oblivious to the whispers that came from nearby as people speculated if it was really him.

People's idle speculation and chatter was of little interest to him.

What was of interest was Kurt Hummel, as he stood there now, with his huge blue eyes staring straight at him but not seeing him.

He would…soon enough.

Sebastian Smithe finally admitted defeat with a terse shake of his head. A sense of triumph filled Blaine and it was heady.

He hadn't felt the sensation in a long time because triumph invariably came all too easily.

With no idea as to how much he'd finally bid for a kiss with Kurt, and not in the slightest bit fazed, he stepped out of the shadows and strode forward to collect his prize.

Not just the kiss he was now due, but so much more.

And he would collect…until he was sated and Kurt Hummel no longer exerted this mysterious pull over his every sense.

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Kurt simply didn't believe his eyes at first.

It couldn't be.

It just could not be Blaine Anderson striding powerfully through the seated awed crowd towards him, looking as dark and gorgeous as he'd ever seen him in a tuxedo.

Kurt�s face flamed guiltily; Blaine had been inhabiting his dreams for weeks…and a lot longer…jeered a taunting voice, which Kurt choose to ignore.

Only the previous night he'd woken shaken and very hot after a dream so erotic that he was sure it must be his rampant imagination conjuring Blaine up now.

Fervently hoping that it was just his imagination, he took him in: the formidable build…broad shoulders, narrow hips and long legs…the athletic grace that hinted at his love for sports, his abhorrence of the gym.

Blaine�s hair was inky black, cut short, and it gave Blaine an air of sober maturity and distinction.

As if he even needed it.

Kurt knew his slightly darker skin came from his Spanish mother.

He felt weak inside, and hot.

Blaine�s face was uncompromising and hard. A strong jaw and proud profile saved it from being too prettily handsome.

He was male…more intensely male than any man he'd ever met.

Years and maturity had added to his strength, filled out his form, and it was all hard-packed muscle.

But his most arresting feature were his eyes…the strongest physical hint of his Spanish lineage. Every time Blaine looked at him Kurt felt as though he saw all the way through him, saw through the paltry defences he put up against him.

Kurt tried so hard to project a professional front around him, maintain his distance, knowing that if Blaine ever came near him he'd see in an instant how tenuous his control truly was.

And he had.

The memory sickened him.

Just a month ago, at Barbara's christening, Blaine had caught him in that unguarded moment when his naked desire for him had been painfully evident.

It had been just a look, but it had been enough.

He'd seen it, and ever since then Kurt had been having those dreams. Because he thought he'd seen a mirror of reaction in his eyes.

And yet he had to be wrong.

He wasn't his type…he might have been for a brief moment, a long time ago, but it had been an aberration.

A dart of familiar pain gripped him momentarily.

Kurt knew he wasn't his type because he'd seen one of his incredibly soign�e boyfriends at close quarters, the memory of which made him burn with embarrassment even now.

He'd been out with a group of girlfriends, visiting him in New York from Dublin, celebrating a hen night.

Kurt, very reluctantly, had been dressed skanky outfit, that consisted in a very tight pants and nothing else, when he'd walked slap-bang into Blaine�s as he'd been emerging from an exclusive Madison Avenue restaurant, an arm protectively around a dark-haired beauty.

Kurt had felt about sixteen and fled, praying that Blaine hadn't recognised him.

And then, to add insult to the injury, one of his friends had chosen that moment to relieve the contents of her stomach in a gutter nearby…Kurt will never forget the look on Blaine's face, or his date's, just before they'd disappeared into the darkened interior of a waiting chauffeur-driven car.

Bitter frustration at his weak and pathetic response to Blaine burned him inside.

Would Blaine�s hold over him never diminish? And now he was imagining him here, walking towards him, up the steps.

Coming closer.

Desperation made him feel panicky.

When would the world right itself and the real person be revealed?

Someone else.

Someone who wasn't Blaine Anderson.

Kurt was barely aware of the Hollywood actor speaking in awed tones beside him, but when he said the name Blaine Anderson everything seemed to zoom into focus and Kurt�s heart stopped altogether.

Reaction set in.

It was him…and he was now on the stage, coming closer and closer, his eyes narrowed and intent on Kurt.

Kurt's instinct where this man was concerned was always to run, as far and as fast as possible.

And yet here and now he couldn't.

He was caught off guard, like a deer in the headlights.

And alongside the very perverse wish that he could be facing anyone else—even sleazy Sebastian …was the familiar yearning, burning feeling he got whenever this man came near.

'Kurt.' His voice was deep, achingly familiar, and it impacted on Kurt�s somewhere vulnerable inside, where he felt his pulse jump and his heart start again.

'Fancy meeting you here.'

Somehow he found his voice…a voice.

'Blaine…that was you?'

He nodded, his eyes never leaving Kurt�s.

Kurt had the strongest sensation that he'd been running from this man for a long time and now it was over.

But in actual fact he'd caught him a long time ago.

A wicked coil of something hot snaked through Kurt�s belly even as he clamped down desperately on every emotion and any outward sign of his effect on him.

With a smooth move he didn't see coming, Blaine came close and put his hands around his waist, fingers disturbingly close to the swell of his ass.

His touch was so shocking after years of avoiding any contact beyond the most perfunctory that Kurt automatically put his hands out to steady himself, and found himself clasping Blaine�s upper arms.

Powerful muscles were evident underneath the expensive cloth of his suit.

His belly melted and he looked up helplessly, still stunned to be facing him like this.

Shock was rendering his usual defences around Blaine useless.

He was so tall; he'd always been one of the few men that Kurt had to look up to. He towered over him now, making Kurt feel small, delicate.

He was aware of every slow second passing, aware of their breaths, but he knew rationally that things were happening in real time, and that no one was aware of the undercurrents flowing between them.

At least he hoped they weren't.

'I believe you owe me a kiss?'