Down, Molly.
He leans in, brushing a strand of hair off my shoulder, his voice low and teasing. “What are you prepared to do?”
I lift my glass, taking a slow sip to wet my suddenly dry mouth, frantically trying to find something I might tempt him with.
What about a blow job? Would that work?
“Whatever she has to,” Joe cuts in, adding fuel to my already raging fantasy fire.
I snap my head toward Joe, glaring as he smirks into his drink.
Josh straightens, his lazy grin returning as he steps back, completely unfazed.
I exhale slowly, trying to calm the pounding in my chest and the heat still simmering under my skin. But when I glance back at Josh, the glint in his eye tells me he knows exactly what he just did to me.
“Fine, you can appease me by coming with me on Saturday.”
I tilt my head. “Where?”
“Venue shopping. I’m stuck driving Bess and Pete around.”
My eyes widen. “Wait, you’re going with them?”
He grimaces. “They want a”—he lifts both hands, making quotation marks—“professional opinion.”
“What does that mean?”
“Translation—Ma offered my services. I’m now roped in as the creative director of bridal operations.” His lips press together in an unimpressed line. “I wish that was a fake title.”
Joe, Thom, and I burst out laughing.
“Dear Lord,” I chuckle, handing him my glass. “You need this more than me.”
He takes it, his gaze locking with mine as he rotates the glass until he presses his lips to where mine sipped.
My eyebrows lift, my eyes widening slightly as I watch him sip. Awareness spirals out from my abdomen.
He watches me with his indecently dark and sinful eyes, sending me a message to come and play.
I don’t understand his actions or why awareness coils low in my belly.
If this is what Josh can do with a simple look…
I watch, transfixed, as his tongue darts out to catch a rogue drop of liquor.
“This is your smoky malt.”
Thom nods. “Twenty-twenty edition. I prefer the eighty-eight, but we can’t be picky at a time like this.”
Joe bumps my shoulder. “So, you gonna save us, sis?”
I glance up, catching Joe’s normally serious blue eyes dancing with mirth.
“Oh, go on,” Thom laughs. “It’s a small price to pay for keeping this disaster from the silver screen.” He waggles a finger at Josh. “I see you, Greenfeld. I don’t put anything past you.”
Josh grins. “Better save your family,pahci oeh’ sahoehuke.”
Piece of my soul.
