The reception is gorgeous when we walk into The Gage. Just like the church, it’s done up in Christmas decorations, albeit less religious this time. Lights are strung everywhere, but much more organized and symmetrical than at Streeter’s Tavern, and trees flank each side of the wedding cake. This makes me happy.
I do love Christmas. There’s just something about this time of the year.
The place is packed, and it feels like I greet a million people. Most are from the firm, but some must be family of the bride and groom. There’s no way I’ll remember everyone.
I glance up at Matthew and contemplate getting really drunk. Something tells me he wouldn’t take advantage of me. I know he wouldn’t. That way I could sabotage this insane adventure I’m on right now, save myself from making a horrible mistake I’ll regret.
But I don’t. I limit myself to one glass of champagne per hour and make sure to eat.
The whole time I tell myself how insane I’m being, how reckless. The damage is already done, but I still can’t let myself enjoy anything—ever.
And right on cue, as if he can read my mind, Matthew leans over. “Relax.”
I smile, even though I’m reeling inside. I can’t help it; he makes me this way. “Don’t tell me what to do, Graham.”
“There she is. Much better.” He grins and watches Dominic and Mary share their first dance.
After a few minutes, other people fall in and start dancing, including the Collins brothers and their spouses. All but Deacon and Quinn. That’s only because Deacon is dancing with a sleeping Delaney’s head on his shoulder. It might be the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
I glance over, and Quinn is leaning down, laughing and joking with a man in an electric wheelchair.
“That’s her father. He lives with them.”
Stop reading my mind, Matthew. It’s annoying.
Is it, though?
“They look happy.”
“They are. It’s a bit nauseating at times.”
I laugh and punch him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re such a Scrooge.”
He laughs as well, but says, “Nah. I’m a realist, but I can be fun.”
I pretend to yawn, right in his face. “Sure you can.”
Before I know what’s happened, a strong hand grips my wrist and pulls me out toward the dance floor. My eyes must bug out, and it only makes him smile wider.
“What the hell are you doing?” I whisper-scream the words at him.
He doesn’t respond, just snickers to himself, until we step onto the dance floor that’s been cleared out at the end of the restaurant.
Once we’re in the middle, his two hands grip me by the hips and turn me to face him. When I do, he has the widest grin of all time on his lips.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to dance.”
My eyes dart around nervously, but then narrow on him. All I want to do is one up him, and I know it’s the reaction he wants, but I give it to him anyway because holy hell, his fingers are digging into my waist and it feels so damn good.
I wrap my arms around his neck and move in closer to him, rocking back and forth with the melody. When my chest presses against his, I’m about to combust. I’m really not sure how much more of this I can take.
Judging by the groan low in his throat, I think Matthew is right there with me.
Our eyes lock on to one another and something in that moment, it seems to change everything. I thought this was just some kind of hook up, but right now, it seems like it’s more than that. It’s that unquantifiable feeling I mentioned earlier, amplifying itself by a thousand. I’ve never felt this before. Some kind of magnetism that draws us together.
One would think that would make me want him even more, but there’s an inverse to that equation. It scares the shit out of me because before tonight I was only worried about what it could mean professionally for me. Now, it’s something even worse. Higher stakes than I could imagine.
I have to be honest with myself about what this is.
I like him.
A lot.
Like real, emotional feelings. That means I’m vulnerable, he could hurt me. Judging by the way I feel right now, I think he could hurt me bad.
I can’t stop looking at him, but I feel Mary’s eyes on me. In my peripheral vision I can see a smile on her face. Then, I notice the same expression on Tate and Abigail too.
The second I think maybe I should take off, make a run for the exit, Matthew’s hands pull me closer to him. Then, they slide up until he has his palms on each side of my face, and he just stares at me, long and hard.
It’s like everything else fades away and we’re the only two people in the room. Even the Christmas decorations disappear.
His face tenses, then he backs up and takes me by the hand and pulls—hard.
“Can’t do this anymore. I need you alone.”
And just like that, I’m propelled toward the front door while this crazy man walks like he’s on a mission. Like he’ll plow through anyone who gets in the way of what he wants.
And what he wants is me.
Holy shit.
7
Matthew
Every time I look over at Karli my jaw clenches.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I need to be inside her, tasting her, making her writhe all over my face and underneath me. It’s fucking unbearable, especially in that damn dress.
“Could you slow down a little?”
I glance over, and she’s smiling but gripping the handle above the door at the same time.
“I’d like to survive the evening.”
“You’ll be lucky if you do.” I can’t stop the grin that forms on my face.
It’s worth it, just to see her reaction.
“Where the hell are you taking me?”
I laugh, loud enough for her to hear, but don’t respond. She’ll know soon enough.
I pull up in front of The Peninsula, the nicest hotel in downtown and practically throw my keys at the valet. I make sure to hand him a twenty on my way to opening Karli’s door.
When I open it and take her hand in mine, her eyes are wide. Not in a bad way, though. She can pretend all she wants, but there’s a hint of a smile on her face.
When she stands up, I just stare at her for a moment, with the hotel behind her as a backdrop. She’s insanely gorgeous in the tight black, but elegant dress that squeezes her perfect hips and trails all the way down to her calves, with a long slit that runs up the side to the middle of her thigh. I want to see what’s underneath it. I want to peel it off her slowly and at the same time rip it to shreds, just to get to her.
She starts to say something, but I pull on her hand. “Let’s go.”
I take off and realize she’s in heels, in a long dress, on the concrete, and she stumbles a little. Fuck it.
I reach down and cradle her legs, scoop her up, and carry her into the fucking place. I have no patience.
“Holy…” Her words trail off and her arms wrap tight around my neck.
The scent of her perfume wafts into my nose, and it speeds my feet up even more.
“Good evening, Mr….”
I blow past the concierge at the front. “Sorry, in a hurry.”
I planned all of this ahead of time, so I wouldn’t have to bother with checking in and all that shit. When I got here, I wanted to go straight to the room, no interruptions.