I nudge him, and he crinkles his brows at me. “You got it bad, Harley.”
“No. No, I don’t. We’re just friends.”
“I don’t think that’s a thing. Not with you two, anyway.”
He grunts as we enter the dining room, my eyes taking in the people seated around the large table. And, of course, my eyes fall to him first.
Wylder sits at the head of the table, impeccably dressed, not a hair out of place. I want to thread my fingers through those strands and mess him up. Just a little.
I like watching him slowly fall apart.
Watching that thread strain and tighten right before snapping.
My gaze swivels to the chair on his right, which is empty. I assume this has been left for Candace, who isn’t here yet. That rankles. At least be on time for a dinner invitation. But I bet she doesn’t believe in that. I bet she believes the world stops and waits for her.
I don’t know her well—have only met her a few times—but I’m pretty sure I’m right about that.
I glance over and see Wyatt and Matthias to Wylder’s left, and directly across from them sit Ansel and Cade. Dalton and Jackson are seated next to each other, and Samson is slouched back at the opposite end of the table. There are three chairs available, and Harley quickly takes the one next to Jackson, leaving me to pick between the one next to Wylder and the one next to Samson.
I should behave. I really should.
But fuck, that’s so boring. I don’t want to, and I know deep down Wylder likes to play. It brings something out in him, something he keeps hidden.
It’s why he couldn’t leave my room this morning.
It’s why I bet it won’t be the last time he watches me come.
“Snooze you fucking lose,” I murmur as I stalk forward and flop down into the chair right next to Wylder. He doesn’t look at me, but that doesn’t stop me from talking. “Tell me you have champagne or prosecco? I’ll take what I can get. I’m not that picky.”
“I don’t believe that,” he says, and I smirk at him, watching as he takes a bottle from beside him and pours some fizzy liquid into my glass. The fact that he had this ready for me is making something inside of me flutter.
It’s a dangerous feeling.
I like fucking with him, but I can’tlikehim too. Can’t like the way a wrinkle appears above his nose when he’s concentrating. How carefully he reads each request to The Firm. How he obediently eats whatever food I shove toward him.
And I definitely can’t like the way hecommandedme earlier. Even if it did make me come harder than I ever have before.
Turns out I have a kink for bossy, uptight fuckers. Who knew?
Well, everyone around this table, judging by the betting pool they have going. Joke’s on them. Wylder won’t ever go there with me. Not because of his sexuality or his girlfriend.
Because of me. I’m not good enough for him, and I know it. He’s Wylder Buckingham, heir to the Buckingham fortune and estates. Head of the fabled Firm. He wields more power than anyone else in a five-hundred-mile radius.
Meanwhile, I’m a two-bit hacker with a state-given surname and no family or home to call my own. It’s no wonder Wylder doesn’t want to play with me.
Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying to get him to though. He really does need to loosen up, to let go.
Even if it’s just for a night.
I take the glass and hold it up toward him. “Thanks, Wylder baby.”
His cheeks flush, and I grin a little wider, sipping at the wine, feeling the bubbles work their way down my throat. Perfection.
Even tastes like it, too. Don’t want to know how much this bottle cost. Might make me want another.
Wylder’s eyes flick from my lips to my throat, and I see his lids droop slightly.
But then his focus is pulled toward the entrance of the dining room as Candace waltzes in.
