“My bad. You told her we were having the best sex of our lives?”
Sparks shoot down my back from the compliment. “And shockingly I didn’t say that either.”
“Fine. You told her how much I like to eat, right?” His eyes glimmer with dirty thoughts of me.
I swat his shoulder, and he grabs my hand, brings it to his mouth and nibbles on my palm.
I laugh. “You’re the worst.”
“So you told her I was a god in bed? That I make you come hard and often? That I’m totally obsessed with your pleasure? That I want to take you apart over and over?”
It’s official. I can’t breathe I’m so turned on. “Stop,” I whisper, but it’s hardly a protest. It comes out feathery, needy.
He brushes his cheek against mine, turning his face and whispering in my ear, “Are you wet right now? Imagining me turning you around, telling you to hold onto the fence when everyone’s gone, then fucking you out here, beneath the wide open sky, just the birds overhead watching as you call my name? Or am I slipping a hand into those panties and getting you off hot and fast when no one’s looking?”
I roll my lips together to seal in a gasp. I close my eyes, breathe out, then open them and meet his heated gaze, ready to give as good as I get. “I believe the answer is…” My gaze drifts down to his jeans, the bulge in them. “You’re rock hard.”
He growls, a low, sexy rumble, as he tugs me closer. “Youknow I am,” he murmurs then drops a kiss to my cheek. It’s a kiss that says he’s thinking of doing unholy things to me. It’s passionate, lingering, and chased with a desperate groan from his throat that makes me feel…adored.
Yes, that's how this man makes me feel. And I don’t think I realized how very much I wanted to be adored until him.
I want to bask in this affection, even though it’s temporary, so I let myself enjoy his kisses on my neck for another several seconds until I catch sight of an undercut and a vest.
I groan.
Jameson’s arrived. He’s striding over to the gift table with his date, a woman with curly red hair, a boho skirt, and an ankle bracelet that jingles.
“Never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad to see him,” I mutter.
Lake lets go of me and jerks away. “What?”
“Because I was about to climb you,” I quickly explain.
But that doesn’t seem to satisfy Lake. His jaw tightens, and he breathes out hard through his nostrils. “I hate how he treated you.” He turns to me, his eyes hard. “I can’t believe I have to act like I’m okay with him being here.”
Where is this coming from? He’s been so…chill the whole time we’ve been here. “Lake. You don’t have to talk to him.”
He drags a hand through his hair, jaw still tight. “I know. It’s a good thing. Because I’m not sure what I’d say. Or do.”
I grab the collar of his shirt. We need to get something straight. “I was joking when I said I was happy to see him.”
“I know,” he bites out, but he’s not looking at me. He’s staring at Jameson like he wants to tear his limbs off. It’s a little hot.
Okay,a lot.
But it’s also throwing me off. Lake’s so cool, so in control, even when he’s dismissing Jameson with a quickI don’t sharecomment.
This is a fiery side of him, and I wasn’t expecting it today. “He should be thrown out of the wedding party for being a fucknozzle,” he bites out.
“He’s friends with Parker.”
“Then fuck Parker too,” Lake says, huffing. This is out of character, this level of hotheadedness.
“Are you okay?”
My concern seems to shake him from his bull-seeing-red moment. He blinks, turns to me, exhales. “Shit. Sorry. I’m a little?—”
He swallows, but doesn’t finish the sentence—just stares hard at the enemy as Jameson places a set of Jameson’s Brew glasses, complete with his logo, on the table of donations. I roll my eyes. There’s nothing he won’t make about himself.
