“We have a celebration dinner to get to.”
“Right.”
Our faces were inches apart, and he studied me. “This isn’t a comfortable place to fuck, but don’t delude yourself. If we kept going, that is exactly what I would be doing to you right now.”
My legs quivered. “Really?”
He leaned in even closer, his breath wafting over my cheek. “I’m dying to know if you taste like cotton candy everywhere.”
I groaned. The sounds this man could get me to make. I was a proud hussy.
He claimed my mouth once more for a sensual kiss. “Now, when I touch you, you won’t fucking flinch.”
He reached over me and buckled me in. He was so efficient I wasn’t sure I believed him about losingcontrol if we continued. But before he took care of his own seat belt, he adjusted the giant bulge in his jeans.
He glanced over. I lifted my gaze to his, and I saw it. The incinerating arousal he kept a tight rein on. A tiny flicker in the green mask of his irises.
He looked away and calmly put the car in drive. We bumped back down the road to celebrate our wedding.
What would happen if I coaxed that spark into an inferno?
Gideon
When we arrived at the house, my raging erection finally redirected blood to my brain. The stop had been necessary. My reasoning was practical. It had nothing to do with how hard it’d been not to roll her over and plunge into her when I woke up with her soft body pressed against mine. It had nothing to do with seeing her ass cheeks bounce in her pajama pants.
She hadn’t been wearing underwear and thank fucking god she hadn’t realized how see-through the thin material was.
Creamy, white butt cheeks that would be perfect to hold on to.
I was getting a hard-on again, only this time I was surrounded by Baileys. But all I had to do to get rid of it was remember her studying and then signing the postnup. The woman knew what she wanted and my wealth wasn’t it. My respect for her grew. But then I’d pulled upthe divorce papers and I’d gone cold. I’d wanted to shut the laptop.
Those papers marked the end. Wasn’t that what I wanted? An end to the sale. An end to the need for this ruse. A halt to the talk about kids and everything a divorce would mean on that front.
I could say for certain that I wanted an end to this damn dinner.
We weren’t in the house. I hadn’t gone in since we’d arrived. I hadn’t been in that place since I’d left after graduation.
The shop that used to hold various bits of broken-down equipment Dad had never fixed had been cleared out and cleaned up.
When had that happened? Definitely wasn’t in the last twenty-four hours.
The walls were clear. The pegboard that had held all sorts of tools was bare. Someone had painted too.
Where’d he gotten the money to hire all this out?
Mae had arrived with two men I’d never seen before. Autumn introduced them as Myles’s brothers, Cruz and Lane. They were much younger than him, and from what Autumn had told me, while we’d filled our glasses with punch, they’d started working for Mae in the last two years. She’d said they hadn’t known Myles growing up and Myles hadn’t known they existed.
The rest of the Baileys who’d been at Autumn’s house to berate her were here but with their kids this time. I’d sort of met Myles and Wynter’s baby, Elsa, but I wasn’t prepared to see so many little people. A lanky teen boy made sure a little girl in a twirly dress didn’t drag a small toddler outside to get into whatever trouble they could find.
Those kids were Tate’s. I didn’t care to see him as a happy family man. Just like I didn’t want to witness the smitten way he gazed at his wife.
I took another drink of punch. No alcohol. Not in the punch and not anywhere in the shop.
I could start to believe Dad was sober when he acted like this.
I had expected Autumn to mingle with her sisters, but she was glued to my side.
Tate’s wife approached us with a pleasant smile. She’d arrived with Tate, and Autumn had introduced her as Scarlett.
