Luckily, the women share a chuckle. “Thank you.” Annabel is the one to respond this time, with a soft, almost musical quality to her voice. “We need to come by Cornfield’s soon. Shawn says the food is delicious. Especially the desserts you make.”
Darla fists her fork and glares at Shawn. “My moms have been telling you about my desserts?”
Shawn is fully facing Darla in his seat, like he’s in the gravitational pull of my best friend. At least with his attention misdirected, he doesn’t see how George’s large warm palm sits indecently high on my thigh.
“Sally and Sam are proud of you.” Shawn gives her ultimate puppy dog eyes. “And I like telling people about you.”
Darla makes a choked noise, then turns back to the brides. “Yeah. Come by Cornfield’s. And make sure you order The Bunsen.”
“No!” Shawn moans as George snorts.
“Oh, The Bunsen?” Annabel attempts to cover a smile with a look of mild curiosity. “Is that a special there?”
“Only the best thing on the menu,” I offer, settling my hand on top of George’s and tracing my thumb over a vein in his wrist. His grip tightens, then eases, even as his fingers stroke the quickly heating skin of my thigh.
“My own sister?” Shawn pouts. “I’ve never felt so betrayed.”
At his playful words, my good mood seeps away.
No, that silly joke wasn’t a betrayal. But soon he’ll know the big lie.
The reminder steals my appetite and has me wanting to escape. When the strains of a song rise from the live band, I cling to the opportunity for an escape.
“Do you want to dance?” I ask George, meeting his searching stare.
Did he notice the change in my mood?
Maybe, because he immediately stands and holds out his hand.
“Do you want to dance?” Shawn asks Darla.
“There’s still food on the table.”
“I’ll take that as a maybe later.”
George guides me onto the dance floor, which is luckily in the middle of the room. Far from the windows. Once we step onto the wooden surface, George tugs me into his arms, holding me close. Not seeming to care who might see.
“People are going to think I’m your date,” I murmur to him.
George frowns down at me, then bends his head until his lips are by my ear, an easy feat to manage when I have on heels.
“You are my date, Beth. You’re a lot more than that.” His warm breath teases over the sensitive skin of my neck. “Maybe I wasn’t clear earlier when I had you pinned against the shower wall with my cock. You want me, I’m yours. Anyone who says something different can go to hell.”
“But…” Seriously? My mind reels. “Shawn. And your family…the company—”
“To. Hell.” He pulls away and cradles the back of my head with a large palm. His cold gray eyes hold mine hostage. “Everyone you named. Everyone you can think of. If they don’t want us together, then they can go to hell, and I’ll say that to their face.”
Wow. Why does “they can go to hell” sound a lot like “I love you” in my mind?
“Beth,” he speaks my name against my mouth, brushing our lips together. “Do you want me?”
We’re in the middle of a party full of BnB people, a crowd from a life that cast me out before I was even born. A life this man should belong to.
But he just offered himself to me.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I want you. You’re mine.”
His arm tightens around my waist, dragging me tight against him. “Thank fuck.”
