I take a step closer, entering her space. She doesn’t move this time, and I can hear her breath catch as she watches me.
“Come on, Bug. Forgive me,” I plead. She rolls her eyes.
“Why should I?” she asks, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.
Reaching up, I play with the thin strap of her dress on her shoulder. Her pulse is racing, and her face is flush. I know she’s having just as much trouble as I am trying to control her urges. She wants to give in.
“Because…” I start, leaning down so that I’m next to her ear. “I’ll give you the best orgasm you’ve ever had if you do,” I whisper.
Her body stiffens in response. My hand traces down her arm, to her side, and down her thigh, landing on the hem of her dress. I begin to pull it up slightly, but before I can get too far, we’re interrupted.
“Dinner’s in ten…” Gwen stutters softly, looking between the two of us before fleeing the crime scene.
“Shit,” Lainey grits out, turning back into the room. I follow her in, watching as she grabs her small purse off the bed and applies lipstick in the mirror.
“Should we be worried she’s going to tell Ellie?” I ask. I mean, I’m not really worried about it. If Ellie finds out, so fucking what.
Lainey shakes her head, putting the lipstick back in her purse and walking toward the door.
“No, she won’t say anything. Let’s just… go to dinner,” she says, walking out of the room.
Just like that, I’m left standing alone.
A while later, we all sit at a long stone table stretched under a canopy of vines and hanging lights, the soft glow reflecting off half-filled wine glasses and polished plates.
Lainey sits across from me, our eyes meeting every once in a while. The tension between us is palpable, and right now I’m wishing more than anything that we weren’t sitting at a table right now full of our friends.
“I’m just saying,” Ryker says, waving a forkful of pasta. “If anyone was gonna cause an international incident on this trip, it was gonna be Holland.”
I raise my glass. “Thank you. I take that as a compliment.”
Gwen smirks from Ryker’s side. “Oh please, Lainey has been just as chaotic lately.”
Lainey’s jaw ticks.
“I’m sorry. I’m not the one who made a scene at the Trevi Fountain.” She takes a sip of wine before crossing her arms.
“You’re the one who got thrown into the Trevi Fountain,” Mason adds, grinning. “Which was honestly iconic.”
“I didn’t getthrown; I was—”
“Gently placed,” I interrupt, swirling my wine. “Like a water nymph returning to her natural habitat.”
Lainey glares at me from across the table.
“I hope you choke on your gnocchi.”
“These gnocchi?” I poke one with a fork and hold it up dramatically. “Lainey. You wound me.”
The whole table cracks up, except for Lainey, who sips her wine with the same energy someone might use to sharpen a knife.
Beside her, Gwen leans in and whispers, “You know you two aretheshow, right?”
“What show?” Lainey asks, feigning innocence.
“The hot-mess enemies-to-lovers slow burn.”
“Gwen, we’re not-”
