“I didn’t run away, Jason. I moved away for college. You knew that Boston University was my top choice,” Brielle sighs, her shoulders heavy.
Jason smirks. “We knew a lot about each other back then.” I don’t like the familiar tone he’s using. Cassie’s nose flares, but she quickly puts her smile back in place. She wraps her arms over his shoulder, but he’s still locked eyes with Brielle.
Brielle shifts toward me again. I’m not sure if she realizes she doing it. I put my hand on the small of her back, letting her know that I’m still here, right beside her. “That was a long time ago. Now you know Cassie like that.”
“I never meant to hurt you, Bri,” he says all too quietly, his wife right beside him.
Brielle looks at him, her brows pinched. “You didn’t.”
I pull Brielle back a step from this jackass and straighten my spine beside her. Jason looks up at me and takes a step back. He seems to realize that he showed his cards a little too clearly for everyone to see, specifically his wife. He turns to her, and the look she gives him makes my balls want to retract into my body on his behalf.
She turns and stalks away without a word.
“You might want to check on your lady. And stay the fuck away from mine,” I say, my voice low and calm, the threat no less present. I thread my fingers through Brielle’s and drag her away without another word. I can hear Evelyn’s shocked laugh as we trail away.
I lead her to the small bar on the side of the room and order a bourbon neat for myself. “And whatever the lady would like.”
“Can you make an espresso martini?” she asks.
“Of course. Coming right up.”
I give the bartender my card, and we collect our drinks. Brielle guides me around the room, introducing me to people and chatting with her family. And all my while, my hand stays wrapped around her waist, her shoulders, lightly pressing into her lower back, or grazing her hip.
The afternoon turns into evening, and after another bout of dancing, Brielle joins me at the table we’ve claimed.
I ordered her another espresso martini while she was on the dance floor, and she takes a sip as soon as she sits.
A few other people are seated at this table, but it’s more informal, with people mingling, dancing, and talking.
“Are you having a good time?” I ask.
“Yeah. I’m so glad I was able to get out here for this. I would have been upset to miss it,” she says. She turns to face me fully, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Thank you,” she adds.
Brielle’s hand lands on my thigh under the table. Heat spikes in my veins, and I widen my knees on reflex. I want her hand on my skin. I want to feel her touch without the barrier of clothes. I fucking crave it. Her palm travels higher, gliding down, then back up, teasing me with her touch.
“Be careful, beautiful. You’re getting awfully close to starting something,” I whisper to her.
Her flushed cheeks round with a sultry smile.
“Or what?”
Fuck. She looks so pretty, her blue eyes shining, laughter, challenge, and heat in her gaze.
“Or I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and take you somewhere quiet.”
Her hand stills, as far up my thigh as she can get, her thumb in the crook of my groin. And then she squeezes, turning in her seat and placing a soft kiss to my jaw.
I growl, instantly hard.
She stares into my eyes, wheels turning inside her head. Her chair scrapes back against the linoleum floor, and she grabs my hand, pulling me to my feet.
I don’t know if she’s taking me to the dance floor, or to socialize with more of her family, or to find a fucking broom closet that's big enough to bend her over in, but I’ll follow her anywhere, so it doesn’t really matter.
She leads me to her grandparents at the front of the room.
“Grams, Gramps,” she says loudly. “I just wanted to say congratulations again. I love you both so much.” She squeezes her grandmother’s shoulders lightly. As they embrace, I reach out my hand to her grandfather.
“Congratulations, sir. Sixty years is impressive, especially in this day and age.”
