He attempts to dip her, nearly drops her, and they both dissolve into laughter. But there's something else there— a flicker of electricity that yanks my gaze to Ivy before I even realize it. She's watching Matt and Sarah with something tender in her eyes, but when her gaze lands back on me, there's a challenge there. One that knocks every step clean out of my head.
Delilah lets out a low whistle, raising her crystal champagne flute in salute. "Sweet baby Jesus in a handbasket." She throws back her drink. "Sarah, honey, you better lock that down quick!"
I'm mid-spin, about to throw out some smartass comment about Matt's moves, when Virginia's sharp intake of breath cuts through the room. Jefferson freezes next to me, but his eyes are locked on her with an intensity that kills the party vibe.
"Don't," Virginia warns, voice cracking. "Just . . . don't."
"Five minutes, that's all I'm asking for," he takes a step toward her, and something in his expression looks almost desperate. "V, please—"
But she's already moving, silk robe billowing behind her as she shoves through the terrace doors. The night air rushes in, carrying the scent of mountain laurel and wild roses from the vineyard.
"Goddammit, Virginia!" He takes off after her, leaving his shirt in his wake like some douchebag breadcrumb trail. "Would you just hear me out?"
The glass doors slam shut, but through the windows we can see them—Virginia gesturing wildly, Jefferson reaching for her, bothof them caught in some dance way more complicated than the shit show we just performed.
I'm still trying to catch my breath from our routine when Carter zeros in on Ivy. "Enjoying the show?"
My jaw clenches as he invades her space, shirtless and sweating, his eyes raking over her body like he's undressing her right there. I see her smile falter when he gets too close, his hands hovering over her curves without actually touching.
"You smell incredible," he breathes, and my fists clench as Ivy tries to step away. But Carter follows, matching her retreat until she's pinned against the wall. "Come on, baby. Let me give you a private performance."
"I'm good here," she says firmly, trying to slide away, but Carter's hand clamps on her hip.
"Don't be like that." His fingers dig in possessively. "We both know you want—"
I'm there before I can think, shoving him so hard he stumbles into an armchair. "She said no."
"Back off, Miller." Carter's lip curls as he steadies himself. "We're just having fun. Right?"
But Ivy's pressed against my back now, her fingers digging into my shirt, and I can feel her shaking her head.
I lean in close, my forearm across his throat. "Touch her again and I'll make sure you leave this wedding in an ambulance."
Before he can answer, Delilah appears like some Southern fairy godmother in a pink robe. "Carter! Those abs are criminal." She fans herself. "Have you been working out?"
His attention shifts instantly, ego purring. "Actually, I've been doing this new routine—"
"Tell me everything," Delilah coos, leading him away with a wink over her shoulder at me.
I turn to Ivy, who's swayingslightly. "You okay?"
"Never better." She stumbles forward and I catch her against my chest. Her fingers spread across my shirt, and the heat of her palm burns straight through the fabric. "My hero in . . ." She tugs at my collar, frowning. "Why are you still so clothed? Everyone else got with the program."
"Trying to get me naked?"
Instead of the eye roll I expect, she drags her gaze down my body. "Would that be so terrible?"
She's just messing around. She has to be. Right?
Her fingers reach for my top button, and I catch her wrist before she can make contact. "Easy there, troublemaker."
"Scared?" She blinks up at me, wide blue eyes full of fake innocence. "Big bad Caleb Miller, running from little ol' me?"
Fucking terrified. But not for the reasons she thinks.
"Bed," I manage, trying to guide her toward the door. But she spins in my arms, pressing her back against my chest.
"Make me."
