“Going for the sexy, smoky look,” Sylvie says as she snaps her Chanel eye quad shut and reaches for a nude lip liner. “Pale lips though, or it’ll be too much.”
I follow her lead, applying a light pink lip gloss to my pursed lips before I check out the finished product.
Not bad, I think as I take myself in.
“You look amazing,” Sylvie tells me, her voice sincere.
“So do you,” I say.
“All the boys at the party will lose their minds when they see you. They love fresh meat,” she continues, making me laugh nervously.
“I don’t know about that.” I fidget with the hem of my dress, uncomfortable at being called fresh meat. And there’s only one boy I’m interested in. “Is Whit coming with us tonight?”
“He said he was,” Sylvie answers, sounding bored. She doesn’t even look at me. “I texted him earlier.”
I haven’t seen Whit all day. Not even a glimpse of him. After what happened last night, it feels like there’s been a major shift between us. Like maybe we could acknowledge that we’re…
Together.
Then again, after not seeing him all day long, I’m now completely unsure and annoyed with my insecurities. Or I’m just reading too much into our so-called relationship in the first place. We don’t actually have a relationship. He’s just using me for whatever reason. Though I definitely know it has nothing to do with my journal or getting revenge on my family because of my mother’s affair with his father.
It’s about us. And how we’re drawn to each other, despite everything.
“We should go,” Sylvie says, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s already almost nine.”
“When did the party start?” We had a late lunch and I should be hungry, but nerves killed that vibe.
“Eight, but no one shows up on time.” Sylvie grabs her phone and texts someone, receiving a reply almost immediately. “Whit says he’s ready too. We’ll meet him downstairs.”
Nerves now threaten to swallow me whole.
“Can I leave my stuff here?” I wave at my cosmetics bag, and my phone sitting next to it.
Sylvie frowns. “You’re not taking your phone?”
“Where would I keep it?” I point at myself. This reminds me of our conversation on Halloween, which was not a good night for me.
I shove all of those unpleasant memories into the far recesses of my brain.
“True that. I’m leaving my phone too.”
We exit her room and Sylvie grabs my hand before we start down the hall, stopping me. “Spence might show up tonight.”
I raise a brow. “Your Spence?”
Sylvie scowls. “He’s not mine. He doesn’t belong to me.”
“Right, he’s just completely hot for you and dying to get with you,” I tease.
Her scowl disappears, replaced by a sly smile. “Think he’ll like the dress?”
“He’ll freaking love it,” I say firmly as we approach the staircase.
We pause at the top of the stairs and I see Whit standing down in the foyer, waiting for us with an impatient expression on his handsome face.
My breath catches in my throat at first sight of him. Wearing a black suit that fits him to utter perfection with no tie, his pale gray shirt unbuttoned at the neck. He’s frowning as he types something on his phone, glancing up when he hears the click of our heels on the marble floor.
“Brother dearest, we’re ready,” Sylvie announces, shoving me slightly so I have no choice but to walk down the steps first, alone.
Whit’s gaze never strays from me as I make my way down the stairs. The stilettos I’m wearing are high, but somehow I keep my balance, and I approach him with a faint smile on my face, fighting the nerves that make my stomach churn.
“Hi,” I murmur.
He scowls, his voice low as he asks, “What the fuck are you wearing?”
His tone renders me completely still, and we stare at each other as Sylvie bounds down the stairs.
“You don’t like it?” I whisper just as she approaches.
“We’ll discuss it later,” he snaps, going to his sister and offering his arm. “Let’s go, Syl.”
I follow behind them, trying to ignore the wave of disappointment threatening to overtake me. Why does he make me feel like this? Like all I do is fuck up every time I’m in his presence? It’s maddening. He’s maddening.
We climb into the back of the town car, the three of us occupying the passenger seat with me in between them. I’m pressed up next to Whit, absorbing his warmth and I wish I could lean into him. Beg him to tell me where I went wrong with my dress choice.
I thought for sure he’d like it.
He presses his thigh against mine for the entire drive, his heat seeping into me and making my blood hot. Sylvie chatters nonstop, oblivious to Whit and mine’s quiet regard. The tension between us ratchets up. High. Higher. Until I can barely breathe.
Within minutes we’re pulling into the front of the gorgeous estate and Sylvie is reaching for the door handle to get out of the car.
“We’ll be out in a minute,” Whit tells her, grabbing my arm to keep me from scooting across the seat and out of the vehicle.
Sylvie climbs out, turning to bend down and peer into the car, watching us with a frown. “If you say so.”
She shuts the door, the car silent save for my shaky breaths. The privacy window is up, so the driver has no idea what we’re doing and when I chance a glance at Whit, I find he’s already watching me, that ever-present frown on his too handsome face.
“You’re showing too much skin,” he says, cutting right to the chase.
Relief floods me. I thought he was angry with me. And I don’t think I can bear that. Not after what we experienced together last night.
“I’m pretty well covered up,” I protest and he shuts me off with a look.
“Not here.” He slips his hand behind me, his palm pressed against my bare back. “And definitely not here.” He touches my thigh, the tips of his fingers slipping beneath the hem of my dress. A soft gasp escapes me when he slides his hand toward the inside of my thigh. “You’re not wearing panties either.”
“I-I couldn’t. I didn’t want panty lines to show.” I close my eyes when his fingers gently brush the spot between my legs. “No one will know.”
“I’ll know.” He strokes me, his fingers dipping between my lower lips, finding nothing but liquid heat. “Fuck, Savage. You’re drenched.”
I spread my legs, thankful for the dress’s stretchy material. “Don’t stop,” I murmur, throwing my head back as he continues to stroke me. The wet sounds reach my ears and I’m not embarrassed. Not at all.
I’m aroused. Painfully so. I’ve missed him. Just having him look at me sets my skin on fire. The way he watched me as I walked down the stairs had nearly been my undoing.
And now here he is, stroking me as if he owns me. Commands me.
Which he does.
“You wear this dress for me?” he asks, his voice deep. Rumbling in his chest. He pushes a finger inside me and my mouth falls open when he strokes me deep. “Huh? Did you buy this for me today?”
I nod, a moan leaving me when he adds another finger to the first. “Do you like it?”