“Brad.”
“Care to dance?” he then asked, not bothering with pretense. Nor did he regard his date, or even introduce me to the Barbie doll who remained seated while throwing daggers my way.
“Fuck right off,” Nate said with a shove.
“Boys,” their mother scolded, and if I weren’t so stressed, I would’ve laughed. Undeterred, Brad merely shrugged and reclaimed his seat, kissing the blonde on her cheek no different from how he’d kissed mine. Maybe to appease her? The fact it worked when she batted her eyelashes and licked her lips spoke volumes of her character.
A hard grip of my hand caused me to turn toward Nate. He took my bag and placed it on an empty chair, glaring at Brad before leading me onto the dance floor.
“Nate, I really need that drink, and not a dance,” I said as he positioned our bodies dead center.
“Soon,” he countered, dismissing my request. “I really need to feel you against me first, Jersey.” With that, he pressed a firm hand against my lower back, bringing my breasts, hips, and thighs to align with his hard body.
I couldn’t help but ask, “Is this some sort of pissing match I’m witnessing?”
He stared directly into my eyes and simply said, “Yes.”
When the slightly upbeat song morphed into a much slower, seductive beat, half the guests left for their tables. In contrast, Nate continued swaying us to the music.
The possessive hold he had on me, the grip he maintained around my fingers, and his gorgeous face a breath away had me forgetting the dozens of other guests in the room. As most probably had their eyes on us, I couldn’t peel mine away from his.
“What’s rattling in that brain of yours, Jersey?”
“Nothing. Just trying to act more relaxed than I actually feel.” He didn’t need to know differently… like how the kiss at my apartment door, or at the door into this event, or even how he held me now worsened my predicament by adding fire to my nerves.
“Why are you still so nervous? The worst is over.”
“No thanks to you. A little help would’ve been appreciated.”
“You don’t need my help.”
“Your family thinks we’re a couple.”
“We are a couple.”
“Stop it, Nate. You know what I mean. Your silence is giving them false hope.”
“Silence is golden,” he countered. “It’s habit. Sit back, listen, give nothing away. Let them think what they want. We know what happens behind closed doors.”
My brows rose as he stared into my soul. “Don’t you have a reputation to consider?”
“We’re among family. No one here will hurt my career.” I let that marinate. Was that why he’d asked me to this damn thing, because no one from his professional life would be here? Either way, whether they believed we were romantic or not, I didn’t appreciate the pressure. “What?” he asked when I went silent.
“For the record, this is way out of my comfort zone.”
“I don’t buy that. I’ve seen you command a room, debate your point to exhaustion, even woo an audience.”
Shocked by his statement, I focused on the last part. “What audience?”
His lips twitched a bit. “The Daily Grind.”
“You saw that?” I had been interviewed on the nationally televised talk show after my last release hit number one on every bestseller list.
“I did.” He stared into my eyes for a long, intense moment, and then he cut his gaze over my shoulder. That was it? That was all I would get?
Every fiber of my being wanted to ask, And? But really, wasn’t what he’d just admitted enough to boost my ego? This man continued to surprise me at every turn. There it was again, a tiny little gesture that hinted this was more than just sex for him. A nugget that insinuated it went beyond the lust-versus-love battle he’d so eloquently argued on live television.
And then he placed his mouth at my ear and said, “After the main course, we’re finding an empty room in that big-ass lodge and I’m fucking you.” Back was the player.
I glanced over his shoulder at others dancing, and my eyes caught on Brad’s before I looked away. “That’s not happening, Nate.”
“We’ll see.” He then pressed his hand on my back and nudged his hips just enough to drive his point home.
And with that slick move, the little voice attached to my libido singsonged—You’re having sex soon… you’re having sex soon.
We took our places at the table in the only open seats, beside Brad, and I purposely sandwiched myself between him and Amy.
After my uncle Fred asked Amy how she and I met, Brad whispered, “Afraid that I’ll lure her away?”
“No… more that you’ll do something stupid, and your date will stab you. I probably just saved your life. You’re welcome, you prick.” I leaned over him and offered my hand to the blonde. “I’m Nate.”
“Trixie,” she said in a high-pitched lilt that sounded familiar. I heard fingers snapping in my brain before it quipped, Minnie Mouse. Meanwhile, Trixie continued to grip my hand tighter and longer than necessary. The girl was dressed for a nightclub and stood out for obvious reasons in her sequins and plunging neckline. “Brad told me you’re always up for meeting new people. Maybe we can go for a walk later? Get to know each other on a different level.”
My focus cut to my bastard brother, and the look on his face raised further suspicion. I wouldn’t put it past the jackass to try to play a switch-a-roo, as he had at our middle school dance.
Ensuring Amy was still deep in conversation, I leaned closer. “I get it, you’d like to see if we’re identical in other ways. But unlike my brother, I like leaving with the person I came with.”
While Trixie’s brows scrunched in confusion, Brad’s were angled from his death stare. I threw them both a wink and raised my hand to catch the attention of a passing waiter.
“Yes, sir?”
“I’ll have a bourbon, and my girl will have a prosecco,” I said without asking her. Her head flipped my way, and I wasn’t sure if her wide-eyed look was for assuming her beverage or for the label that I’d given her.
She waited for the man to walk away and immediately clarified by mouthing, “Your girl?” My response was to kiss her hard and firmly. I don’t know why, but it felt right. It also seemed to relax her a bit, so much so she threw me a smirk before glancing at my parents. Upon seeing them now in a conversation with my aunt and uncle, she leaned over me to ask, “So, Brad, what embarrassing stories can you share about Nate?” I should’ve known she’d ask that question the moment she had the chance.
“A fuck ton,” he said just as the music ended, earning glares from our mother and aunt. “Sorry.” Undeterred, Brad leaned toward Amy and into my personal space. “He wet his bed until age nine.”
Amy’s grin was instantaneous. “Oh, did he now?”
“Yep. Sometimes more than once a night. Had to sleep on a plastic sheet that made a ton of noise every time he moved. For me, it wasn’t fun having the bottom bunk under him. That’s when I demanded my own room and Dad fixed up the attic.”