EPILOGUE
Bennett
My wife is so fucking hot.
“What was that?” asks the man to my left.
I shake my head. Shit. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. I’m at a cocktail table, sandwiched between a master coffee roaster and some guy whose only personality trait is debating the most sustainable form of disposable cups. But all I can think about is my wife on the other side of the room and how her throat arches when she laughs, throwing her head back.
My mother’s annual New Year’s Eve party is legendary, and invitations are highly sought after, which means it’s a networking circle jerk. And now that I’m within a few years of taking up an official position at the Graves Corporation, I can’t attend something like this without fruit flies like these two buzzing around.
I track Clover as she moves across the room from my mom to her mom and finally to Julian, who has been shotgunning vodka and Red Bull for two hours straight.
My super fucking hot wife is in her new dress tonight. When she tried it on for me last week, I bent her over the guesthouse kitchen table before she could try on the next one and that was how she decided this dress was the winner.
Itisa great dress, but so is every other thing Clover puts on her body. A short, white little slip with a sheer overdress dripping in pearls and sequins with flared sleeves. Turns out I have a thing for Clover in white. It reminds me of getting married and that reminds me that she is my wife.My wife. Damn. And when I think about that, I can hardly keep it in my pants.
Unfortunately, though, all I’m able to imagine as she laughs with Julian is what the hem of said dress looks like pushed up around her waist.
She glances over her shoulder at me. The gold and silver New Year’s Eve headband tucked into her tousled waves reflects the light of the dance floor.
I am gratuitous in the way my eyes rake over her body. Her tongue swipes across her lower lip in response.
She slinks toward me like a shark hunting its prey, hypnotizing me.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” she says as she approaches our cocktail table. “I need to steal my husband before he dies of boredom.”
Beside me, each man takes a second to register her blunt statement.
I choke on a laugh and hold my arm out for her to take.
“Thank you for saving me,” I tell her, my lips pressed against the crown of her head.
“Things seemed dire. Stage five boredom. Terminal. A real killer.”
“I might require a full body exam to ensure I’m in the clear.”
“I will be very thorough when we get home,” she swears.
I guide her toward the ballroom exit. “I’m afraid it can’t wait.”
She pulls the cuff of my jacket back to check the time. “We have eighteen minutes before midnight.”
“Say no more.”
Clover
We are less than discreet as we sneak up the grand staircase at the front of the club. The moment we step into the upstairs hallway and are free of the knowing smiles of the valets at the doors, Bennett crowds me against the nearest wall.
His mouth is hot on my neck as he licks and nips a path to my jaw. “You have to stop wearing white,” he says.
My hands tug on his hair, and I’m thankful for the extra inches these platform heels give me, because I’m tall enough to drag my tongue along the notch in his throat as I smooth my hand over the hard swell in his trousers.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Forget I said that. Wear all the white. I’ve had a chub for the last thirty minutes just from watching you sip your drink. Your tongue and that straw. Jesus Christ, Clo.”
“Well, it’s not every day that I consume a beverage in the most pornographic way possible, but you were basically ignoring me to schmooze with those corporate coffee bros.”
He gasps, delighted. “You were seducing me? It was all a ploy! I’ve been seduced!”
