He chuckles, tucking another strand of my hair behind my ear. “You won’t be after I’ve had a whole night with you.”
I could melt into the concrete right here with that declaration and I can’t wait for him to prove himself right.
Roarke’s hand glides down my arm and disappears behind me, opening the vehicle door. He pats my hip with his other hand in a motion to tell me to climb in. “Let’s get this over with.”
I sit in the passenger seat of the Range Rover in a lust-filled daze waiting for Roarke to make his way to the driver’s seat. He climbs into the truck, puts the key in the ignition and then freezes.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
He leans over and his lips land on mine, his body hovering over mine. The spark between us ignites into a fire and I grip the hairs on the back of his head, keeping him against me.
“We shouldn’t? Right?” he asks when he pulls away for a second.
I giggle like a lovesick teenage girl and run my hand along the light stubble on his cheeks. My thighs clench with thoughts of how that stubble will feel between them.
Before I have a chance to answer, his forehead falls to mine. “You need to work on your timing. You give me the green light when there’s no possible way of me having you.”
“Would you prefer a red light?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Relax Firecracker. I’m kidding.”
“Good because…”
He shuts me up with another kiss and I sink into the soft leather seats reveling in his taste.
Too quickly he tears his lips from my mouth, pulls the seatbelt over my body, and starts the car.
“You’re so damn hard to resist. A chink in my willpower.” He shakes his head, more to himself than me I think.
I smile and look out the window. I shouldn’t like that I weaken him, but I do anyway. I like it a lot.
Chapter Twenty
It’s a bar-b-que buffet for the rehearsal dinner at a restaurant on the river’s edge with tables inside and outside. There are gas-lit fire pits with Adirondack chairs circling the flames. Kids run around the green grass while men hang around the tables jabbering on about all the local news. Women sit in clumps sharing the latest gossip and for a second I feel like I entered the movie Steel Magnolias.
I sip my spiked lemonade, appraising the crowd.
Allie and Wyatt sit at a table with their friends, beer cans and Solo cups piled high in front of them.
Edie sits with her boyfriend and two other women, smoking, laughing and carrying on.
“What do you think?” Roarke’s hand winds around my waist and he pulls me to him, his head burrowing into my neck. My body hums as his lips land on the sensitive flesh.
“It’s nice.”
“It’s not the Ritz,” he murmurs, his teeth latching on to my earlobe.
My hand lands on his chest and I push him away. He’s too strong and stubborn though, his hand never leaves my hip.
“Pushing me away already?” he asks.
“If you keep talking like I’m some stuck up bitch who can’t enjoy anything other than the best, then yes. And the teasing isn’t appreciated.”
“I do love your firecracker side, but you should know it only makes me even hotter for you.”
I chuckle. “You’ll have to wait until later tonight.”
He sips his whiskey neat and then holds the cup down at his side.
“If I was a better man, I’d wait until we got back to Chicago. Lucky for you, I’m not.” He winks.
“If you keep latching on to my earlobe then you’ll be taking me in the women’s restroom.”
He chuckles. “You have no idea how hard it’s been the past two hours not to bend you over one of these tables and have my wicked way with you.” His hand slides off my hip to my ass and his fingers delve into my flesh.
I rise to my tiptoes and he steps in front of me, blocking us from bystanders. His lips millimeters from mine, I impatiently wait for him to claim them as his again.
“Do you want to know my plans or do you prefer surprises?” His voice is low, and the deep timbre he’s perfected makes my insides clench.
“Why don’t you give me a sample?”
His straight lips tip up as though he can’t control them. It’s my favorite smile of his. The impromptu one where he’s trying to fight his amusement but fails miserably.
He steps forward, raising his hand above my head and pressing it against the red siding of the restaurant. Leaning forward, he runs his nose up and down my jawline.
“Let’s just say you’ll find out I have three amazing God-given assets. My mouth, my tongue, and my cock all revved and ready to fulfill your every wish.” His teeth grip the fleshy part of my earlobe, tugging once again.
My body heats and I close my eyes, pushing back the thought of raising my legs to straddle his waist and grinding against him just to ease the thrum of energy building in my body.
“Oh aren’t you guys cute. Don’t let him seduce you, Hannah. He’s a heartbreaker.”
Talk about a douse of cold water.
Roarke steps back, glaring at his mother. “Always my biggest fan,” Roarke murmurs.
“I’m stealing her away. People want to meet this new love of yours from Chicago.” Edie slides her arm through mine and walks us away.
I look longingly over my shoulder to Roarke to save me. He watches us leave him, tilting the glass up to his lips.
Disregarding Roarke since he’s not going to tell his mother not to kidnap me and I turn back around. That’s when Edie’s description of me finally hits my brain.
“New love?”
She laughs, patting my hand. “I know women can be blind sometimes, but Roarke has always worn his feelings on his sleeve. Besides, I’m his mama—I can tell what that boy’s thinking. Always could.”
I want to object. I want to tell her she’s way off base. That here and now is the first time I’ve seen an ounce of vulnerability in Roarke. That the boy she raised and the man I know are completely different and until a few hours ago, I couldn’t see that they co-existed in the same body.
Instead, I offer her, “I’m starting to see that.”
She stops near a table at the river’s edge where there are five women seated, all eyes on me.
A boulder lodges in my throat.
“Sit,” the woman throwing off a sweet grandmotherly appearance says, patting the chair next to her.
I do as I’m told and Edie takes the one next to me.
“You’ll never remember all our names, but…” Edie introduces the women to me.
She’s wrong though because I was brought up to never forget a name. My mother taught me at a young age to always associate something with the name to help me remember better. Hence the woman next to me would be Peachy Pam because her hair color resembles a peach. Or the woman two down from her is Mustache Millie because she has a bit of a mustache. It’s a simple technique and I still use it today.
“Pleasure ladies.” I nod to the women at the table.
“The pleasure is all ours. Now…tell us your story,” Mustache Millie says, sitting up in her seat with her wine glass at her lips.
“Story?”