“I can’t stop. You look unbelievable in that suit.” And it isn’t hyperbole. He’s had his hands on me all night, but it’s not sexual. He’s warm and attentive, the model boyfriend. I know in my soul my sister is jealous because he wasn’t even this good to her, and none of it is an act. This is who he is to his core, and I love him more for it. He leans in. “Are you going to dance badly with me when they are done?”
“I love to dance, and I’m a great dancer.”
“Of course you are.” Wolfe starts laughing. “I’m going to embarrass the shit out of you.”
“If you don’t think I’m used to your antics by now, you’re wrong. And at least you’re not in a tracksuit.”
“Then come on.” He drags me to my feet. “Let’s go get some fruity ass drinks and dance.”
“Okay.”
There’s a few people on the edges moving to the music, but he bypasses all of them, pulling me into his arms, bodies flush, right in the middle of the floor to slow dance.
All the bad fades away, and only the two of us exist out there. Lots of people join us, and we have a fucking great time. His lips press into my temple, and I want to climb him like a fucking tree.
For the thirtieth time, someone dings their fork against their glass, and my sister is kissing her husband again.
Wolfe glances over. “Should I announce we’re pregnant?”
I choke. “Please don’t. They’ll assume I’m the one pregnant, not you, the perfect specimen of a man.”
“Maybe I’m very maternal and would love to be the one to nurture life! They don’t know.”
“They’d probably love it if we were pregnant. My mom wants a grandkid so bad. Now, if you proposed, my sister would be livid.” I laugh it off.
“Should I propose then, Angel baby?” Wolfe says, bending his knees a little like he did leading up to the blow job.
“Stop. Not again. Unless you have my ring!” I roll my eyes.
“You assume I don’t have it.”
“What?”
He doesn’t have it, or he would have given it to me…right?
Did he say he didn’t have it?
I can’t remember if he ever said for certain he didn’t have it, or if he just said he had an estimated date and it might not be done by then. He didn’t even tell me the estimated date, come to think of it. It could be any fucking day.
“Wolfe. Do you have my ring?”
He leans in, running his nose up the side of my neck. “I’ll do whatever I want, and you’ll like it.”
I suck in air, straining under my zipper, and just trying to see straight through my horniness. “I can’t with you.”
“I think you can.” He doesn’t have the ring. He’s teasing me.
He slowly lowers down.
“Stop.” I grab his tux, trying to keep him from making a fake scene.
But he doesn’t. And he reaches into his pocket.
He doesn’t actually have the fucking ring…
His hand returns with a little black box.
“You mother fucker.”
