I reach for his belt, desperate, fingers fumbling.
He catches my wrists, pins them above my head with one hand, grinning like the devil. “Not yet,” he says. “I want you desperate for it.”
He drops to his knees again just long enough to slide my lace panties down my legs. He stands, tucks them into his pocket, and pats the fabric with a wink. “These are mine now. You’re going back out there bare under this dress. Every step you take, you’ll feel me.”
My breath hitches. “You’re evil.”
“You love it.”
He smooths my dress down, fixes a stray hair, then opens the door and checks the hallway.
When he turns back, his hand settles low on my back, fingers brushing the curve of my ass. “Walk slow, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I want you dripping down your thighs while you smile at all those boring rich people.”
I step into the hallway on shaky legs, the cool silk of the dress sliding against bare skin, and I know I’m completely fucked.
In the best possible way.
We make our way back to the main party. I’m trying to look normal, composed, like I wasn’t just falling apart in a private room.
But the second we enter, I see Grant. He’s standing near the bar with Donovan, and his eyes find mine immediately. There’s heat there.
He knows.
He crosses the room in long strides, and before I can process what’s happening, he pulls me into a hug.
It’s not a casual hug. It’s intimate. His arms wrap around me fully, pulling me flush against his body. I can feel every inch of him, including the hardness pressing against my lower stomach.
Oh God.
“Having fun?” he murmurs against my hair.
I can barely breathe. “Yes.”
“Good.” His hands slide down my back, dangerously low, before he finally releases me.
I’m still trying to recover when Donovan appears.
“My turn.” He leans in, and I think he’s going for my cheek. But his lips land so close to the corner of my mouth that it’s almost a kiss.
He pulls back with a slight smile, his hand lingering on my waist.
I’m dizzy. Overwhelmed. Completely out of my depth.
The three of them are doing this. Here. In front of everyone.
Grant’s possessive hug. Donovan’s almost-kiss. Kai’s hand hasn’t left my back since we returned.
This isn’t normal. This isn’t how people behave.
But looking around the room, I realize no one seems shocked. A few knowing smiles. Some raised eyebrows. But no gasps. No scandalized whispers.
Like this is exactly what people expect from the Hale men.
By midnight, when guests start filtering back to their rooms, I’m exhausted and completely overwhelmed.
Grant finds me near the Christmas tree. “You should get some rest.”
“I should.”
