“Bully for you.” He takes a drink of whiskey, but I’m stronger than his sarcasm.
“I wanted to stay close to home.”
“Why the hell would you want that?”
Blinking up at him, I smile, going for honesty. “I miss my dad. I miss Ethan. I guess family feels more important when you lose someone.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” He looks down at his tumbler, and his expression darkens.
My mom lost her long battle against lung cancer a few years ago. It was devastating watching her suffer, and her death was a mixture of heartbreak and relief she was out of pain. It still hurts if I think about it too much…
Stephen’s mother died of cancer when we were kids, but I remember how it changed him. How he smiled less, played less.
“We have that in common, don’t we?” My voice is gentle.
“It’s not so fresh for me.” His softens, and I’m encouraged. I’m not inside the wall, but I’m closer.
“Here you are.” Burt appears at my side, putting his hand on my lower back. What the hell?
Stephen’s eyes go to where he’s touching me, and all I can think is fuck no.
“You’re drunk.” I shove Burt’s hands off my short denim skirt.
He immediately puts both hands on my waist and turns me to him, leaning closer. “You’re not blowing me off for this asshole are you?” His breath smells like vodka, and his flat brown eyes are intoxicated.
He makes a move like he’s going to kiss me, but I duck and twirl away, moving to stand beside Stephen, holding his arm. “Stephen and I are having a nice chat. You need to call it a night.”
Burt’s attention turns to Stephen, and his brow lowers. Stephen is ready when Burt lunges at him. His strong arm shoots out, gripping Burt by the shoulder and holding him back.
“Walk it off, Dickerson.” It’s a low growl, and I know Stephen could wipe the floor with Burt’s drunk ass.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Hastings.” Burt grips his wrist.
Stephen’s fist rises, and I hold my breath. I’ve never seen Stephen fight, and my heart is flying. I’m sure it’s about to go down when Ethan and a big guy appear. They corral Burt, dragging him to the right, and I take my chance, catching Stephen’s arm and pulling him into the crowd.
He stops and straightens his jacket, jaw clenched. “That asshole. I’m taking off.”
“Wait!” I gently pull his arm again. “I know where we can get a refill… away from all this.”
He hesitates a beat, then our eyes meet and his shoulders relax. I quickly lead him past everybody, waving at old friends as we weave through the crowd.
Ethan put a keg out on the terrace near the wet bar, and Stephen goes to refresh his whiskey while I step over to the corner balcony overlooking Central Park. It’s a beautiful night, and I can see the moon and a few stars. I make a quick wish.
Warmth at my side causes me to turn. He’s standing beside me in the moonlight, dark hair, blue eyes, that dimple in the side of his cheek. “So, what’s your major?”
The way he says it makes me laugh. I push a strand of long, wavy blond hair behind my ear. “Art history.”
The scene flips. He actually groans, rolling his eyes and turning his back to the railing. “Not planning to work after college?”
His disgust offends me. “I most certainly am. I want to get a job at Sotheby’s or at one of the museums downtown. Maybe something in SoHo. Or maybe I’ll move to London!”
A moment’s pause, and he slants an eye at me. “Is that so?”
“It is.” My feathers are still ruffled, and I straighten my button-up cropped top. “What will you do now that you’re out? Take a job with your dad? Have a wife in New Haven and a mistress in the city?”
Two can play the stereotypes game.
He drifts a little closer, and my pulse ticks faster. “Is that what we do?” His voice is low, and his eyes drop to my lips.
My voice is softer, higher compared to his. “Isn’t it?”
A slight grin from him, and that humming is back in my veins. “You’re smarter than I gave you credit for.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“It’s actually an apology. I underestimated you.”
Now it’s my turn to hesitate. Still, it’s not like I didn’t know Stephen was arrogant. It’s one of the things I love about him.
“Apology accepted.” Reaching out, I trace my finger down the front of his blazer. “Now. Wasn’t that easy? You don’t have to fight with everybody.”
Taking a chance, I put my hand on his chest. It’s firm and warm, and he covers my hand with his. It’s a gentle touch, but it radiates heat to my chest, fanning out into my belly, warming the space between my thighs. I want this so much… I’ve dreamed of it. I know if he’ll let me in, everything will change. He’ll change.
My voice is just above a whisper. “When you look at me like that, I wonder what you’re thinking.”
Our eyes hold, and I know he feels it, this pull between us. My breath stills, and I’m humming with desire.
But he throws on the brakes. “I’m thinking I’ve had enough whiskey.” His tone is level, and he releases my hand, moving away.
I have to stop him.
I can’t lose this moment.
“What do you want?” I’m sassy, flirting. “Do you even know?”
He stops, giving me the full force of his scowl. “I don’t want a wife in Connecticut, and I definitely don’t need a mistress in the city.”
Closing the distance, I put my hand on his waist this time, sliding it back and forth, working my way lower. “Maybe you need me.”
He stops my downward progress with a strong grip. “You’re playing with fire, Emmy Barton.”
“I’d rather be hot than cold.”
His grip on me tightens, and he pulls me against his chest. I can barely breathe, but I blink up to his lips, slipping my tongue out to touch mine. His erection is against my stomach, and I’m so wet.
“Are you drunk?” His voice is a rough whisper.
“No. Are you?” Stretching higher, I touch my lips to the scratchy stubble of his jaw.
Leaning down, he kisses me fast. His lips shove mine apart, and his tongue invades, finding mine. My knees start to give out, but his arm is around my waist, scooping me up against his chest.
It’s a rough kiss, not kind or gentle, and my fingernails scratch up to his shoulders. A little noise escapes my throat, and he rumbles in response. Heat floods my panties.
Our mouths break apart with a gasp, and his blue eyes are blazing. “Do you want this?”
Nodding, I step back, holding out my hand. “Come with me.”
He hesitates as I go to the glass doors leading to Ethan’s dark bedroom. When I pause and look back, he’s watching me like a predator. His hair is messy from my fingers, and his lips are parted with his breath. He looks like pure sex.
“This way.” I’m holding still, hoping, until…
He follows me inside.
My shirt is ripped open. Stephen doesn’t bother removing my bra. He shoves the cups down under my small breasts, and devours me, pulling a taut nipple into his mouth and giving it a bite, sending electricity straight to my core.