He didn’t even flinch. “I gave you a choice,” he said, already striding toward the guest room with me bouncing lightly against his shoulder. “You chose poorly.”
“I was trying! What the hell? This is caveman behavior!” I protested, though I couldn’t help laughing at the absurdity of the situation. “Put me down!”
“Too slow, too drunk, too stubborn,” he replied, his hand firm on the back of my thighs to keep me steady.
The blood rushed to my head, making the champagne buzz even more intense. “I’m going to be sick if you keep me upside down,” I warned.
“I thought you were a dignified drunk,” he teased. Despite being draped over his shoulder, I felt secure in his grip. “Almost there.”
“I can see your ass from this angle,” I informed him, reaching down to poke it. “It’s a good ass. Very firm. Do you do squats?”
I felt rather than heard his chuckle. “Pilates, actually.”
“Of course you do.”
He nudged the guest room door open with his foot and finally flipped me off his shoulder, depositing me onto the bed with more gentleness than I expected. I bounced on the mattress, my head spinning as I adjusted to being right-side up again.
“You’re an asshole.”
“So you’ve mentioned.” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at me. “Multiple times.”
When I tried to stand again, his hands settled firmly on my shoulders, pushing me back onto the mattress.
“Stay,” he commanded, and a shiver ran through me.
“Last I checked, I wasn’t a golden retriever,” I shot back, but remained seated. The room was still spinning slightly, and his grip felt too good to fight against.
“No, you’re a drunk woman who can’t remember her own address and can barely stand. Stay put while I get you something to sleep in.”
“Yes, sir.”
Something flickered in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or something darker. He disappeared into what I assumed was a closet, returning moments later with a neatly folded t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.
“Here,” he said, placing them beside me on the bed. “Bathroom’s across the hall.”
I grabbed the clothes and stood immediately colliding with his chest. His hands shot to my waist to steady me, and suddenly we were pressed together.
“Well hello there,” I said, looking up at him. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Mari,” he warned, his voice dropping to that lower register that did dangerous things to my insides.
“What?” I asked innocently. “I’m just standing here, minding my own business, being manhandled by the world’s bossiest wedding planner.”
“Manhandled?” One eyebrow arched. “I caught you. You’re welcome.”
“Do you ever lose control?”
“Never.”
“Maybe you should try.”
Before I could register what was happening, he spun me around so my back was against his chest, one arm wrapped firmly around my waist, pinning my arms to my sides. His other hand swept my hair off my neck, and his breath was hot against my ear.
“I never lose control,” he said, his voice a dangerous rumble.
“Never?” My heart hammered in my chest.
“Never.” His arm tightened slightly.
