I was begging her for reprieve from my erection.
I quickly linked my fingers with hers, resting our hands on the seat between us, as Lucian wound through the traffic of Surry Hills on our way to the launch of River’s Fluss clothing line. Her hand was warm, and I gave it a squeeze, hoping it was enough to convey that I wasn’t upset that she’d touched me.
I wanted more of everything I could get from her. I wanted to demand that Lucian turn the car around and return us to theGirl on Fire. I wanted to dismiss every single employee from the yacht and tell her I wanted to be stupid, and reckless, because I had no self-control,and I wanted her in every way it was possible for a man to want a woman.
The car slowed, and Lucian pulled into a space at the front of a large red-brick warehouse. Suddenly, every nerve ending was wired with excitement and nerves, that jittery energy that always overtook me whenever I had to be in a place that was unfamiliar. Particularly a crowded place.
I took a deep breath and climbed out of the car, turning back to the gorgeous woman who would be on my arm as we waded into this circus of media and celebrities. I could do this with Ri by my side. Pride ballooned in my chest as I reached a hand into the car.
“It’s showtime, Mrs Baxter.”
With an uncharacteristically shy smile, she took my hand and elegantly slid from the vehicle. She straightened, unnecessarily smoothing the pristine fabric of her outfit, and tucked her loose, gently waved hair behind one ear, revealing a simple silver stud in her lobe.
I need to buy her sapphire earrings, to match her ring. I longed to spoil her the way she deserved. And why shouldn’t I? It wouldn’t seem out of place for a man with the sort of wealth I commanded to shower her with gifts.
I made a mental note to pay another visit to Tiffany’s soon as I lifted her knuckles to my lips.
“Let’s do this.”
“Side by side, Mr Baxter,” she said with a wink, linking her arm through mine. Her body was a warm, comforting presence as we navigated the tight swarm of teenaged girls bouncing around on the pavement outside the entrance—no doubt hopeful for a glimpse of their blond idol.
“I had no idea that River was so popular,” I murmured in her ear, taking the opportunity to inhale the intoxicating summery scent of her.
Her tinkling laugh shot straight to the centre of me. “You really need to bone up on your pop culture, Hubby.”
I groaned softly, my breath stirring her hair. “Please don’t sayboneandhubbyin the same sentence when we’re in public.”
She tilted her head up, her smile suspiciously sweet. “I’ll remember to save those words for when we’re alone, then.”
I inhaled sharply, my mind conjuring visions of exactly that … and what would come next. No. I wasn’t going to walk into the pack of cameras lurking just through the large wooden doors sporting an obvious erection. I simply wasn’t.
I managed to control the tent in my pants enough to make it through the milling photographers, who thankfully were confined to the warehouse foyer.
When a camera clicked behind me, my stomach lurched. Reluctantly I turned in the direction of the sound.
“Henry! You made it, mate!” River thrust his hand in my direction, and automatically I shook it. The photographer clicked again—a small, dark-haired woman behind it. This must be the official event photographer then. Not a vulture like the pack outside.
A waiter scuttled up offering us champagne flutes. I shook my head.
“I don’t drink,” I explained, as Ri snatched up a glass, taking a sip. The photographer snapped a shot of her.
“It’s zero alcohol, if that helps!” River announced, but I was too busy watching my wife’s throat bob as she swallowed.
An adorable frown creased her brow, and she grimaced up at River. “Is this a dry event?” she asked, her consternation making my lips twitch.
River shrugged. “Never been much of a drinker myself, and … I just think it’s more inclusive this way.”
The camera clicked again, capturing Ri’s horror.
“Henry and Irina, meet Emerald. She’s averytalented photojournalist, who’s doing a profile on Fluss for Earthly Magazine.” He beamed down at the woman holding the camera. She scowled back at him before tilting her camera down to check the last shots she’d taken, her silky black hair falling over her face.
“Emerald thinks I’m a bit of a dickhead,” River confided.
Emerald snorted inelegantly. “Thinking implies that it’s just my opinion,” she muttered, adjusting the camera strap around her neck. “It’s a simple fact.”
River’s smile dropped just as Emerald snapped a picture of him, her smile evil and her grey eyes sparkling maliciously.
River watched her go, a perplexed expression on his face. “You’d think I’d pissed in her Weet-Bix, the way she scowls at me.”
