“Delightful to meet you.” She nodded to me while Weston glanced covertly around us. “It’s so fascinating to see how my love—”
Seeming to be satisfied with what he saw, he cut her off. “No one’s watching. And Sabrina knows.”
“Oh thank god.” Elizabeth Dyson dropped Weston’s arm. “If I have to gush about him a minute longer I might have to throw up.”
Donovan gazed admiringly at the bride-to-be. “Elizabeth, I think you and I might get along better than I once thought.”
So it appeared the newly engaged pair weren’t getting on so smashingly. Even still ruffled, I found this amusing. Just desserts.
Okay, maybe I was a little bitter.
“I told you, Kincaid, this deal was really better suited for you and me. I can’t believe you turned down the offer.” Elizabeth flirted openly with Donovan, seeming not to notice Weston’s exaggerated roll of the eyes.
“You were up for the nomination of groom?” I couldn’t meet Donovan’s eyes as I asked, and I found myself looking down, which wasn’t helpful because I ended up glancing toward his crotch.
Quickly, I looked back at Weston. Then at Elizabeth in case looking at Weston made it seem like I was pining for Weston. Then at my shoes in case it looked like I was trying too hard when I looked at her and because I didn’t want anyone to see how I reacted to Donovan’s response to my question.
I’d second-guessed myself several times in the last few days about the revelation that he had arranged the whole fake marriage and whether or not it had anything to do with me. It was easier on my nerves to think I was being ridiculous, but if it didn’t have anything to do with me, then why hadn’t he volunteered to play the part himself?
“No one would ever believe I’d get married,” he said dismissively. “Besides, Weston looks much better on Elizabeth’s arm.”
I looked up to see Weston shoot daggers in Donovan’s general direction. Then, with an overly bright smile, he addressed me. “Sabrina, you’re absolutely stunning.”
“Thank you.” I eyed Donovan, indicating how a compliment was supposed to be given and caught him eyeing me with what I guessed was supposed to say See, what I mean?
Elizabeth surveyed me from head to toe and nodded approvingly. “She is gorgeous, Kincaid. You make quite an attractive couple.”
“We’re not a couple,” I said quickly at the same time that Weston said, “They’re not a couple.”
Weston and I exchanged glances. I knew what it looked like—like we were still holding out for each other, and maybe that’s why he’d rushed to clarify I wasn’t with Donovan, but it hadn’t been why I’d rushed to clarify.
I’d rushed because there was no way, no how, I could get mixed up with Donovan again. Not now. Not ever.
“You’re here alone?” Elizabeth asked Donovan, her eyebrow raised in surprise.
“I’m not.”
My muscles tensed in…what? Like hell I was jealous. But I was something. It hadn’t occurred to me that Donovan would have a date. He might even have a girlfriend. Or a fiancée of his own. And if any of that were the case, why was he playing around with me? But why had he ever played around with me?
I was confused. That’s what I was. And irritated.
“Sabrina is from Weston’s stable,” Donovan said next, and then I was also pissed.
“You are a fucking asshole.” Weston scowled.
I was too shocked to say anything. He couldn’t really mean what I thought he meant. Could he?
“Ah,” Elizabeth said, understanding clearly. “Recent?”
“The most recent, I believe. Last significant girl he spent any time with before you, anyway.”
He did mean what I thought he meant.
Jesus Christ.
Referring to Weston’s girlfriends as horses was not only misogynistic and demeaning, it was also just plain shitty.
“Huh.” Elizabeth looked from Weston to me. Looked at the way Weston looked at me. “I might want in on that pool after all. What were the terms?”
Weston ran a hand through his already rumpled hair. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not going to fuck around.”
His date—the probable cause for his messed-up style—winked at Donovan. “We’ll talk later.”
“Fuck off,” Weston muttered, doing another scan around the room. “People are watching us. Better play cozy.” Without looking at her, he took her hand. “Is it you who wants to fuck around? Is that why you keep bringing up concerns about me?”
She rolled her eyes, but something in her expression had tightened. “It was just a joke. You’re so sensitive about everything I say.”
“Everything you say is a criticism.”
“Everything you do is stupid.”
Weston swung his head toward her. “Anyone told you lately you’re a bitch?”
“Not since the last time you told me, which was, I think, oh, twenty minutes ago.”
“There’s the happy couple!” exclaimed an older gentleman from a few feet away.
“Ah, shit,” Elizabeth swore as she put on a grin. “Mr. Jennings!”
Weston grabbed Donovan’s shoulder and whispered, “Pray for me. I beg of you.”
“I’m not religious, man. You’re on your own.” Donovan clapped him on the back and sent the “couple” on their way. “Maybe we should feel sorry for them,” he said, looking after the two. Then, after a moment, “Nah.”
No. Definitely no.
So Weston had gotten a handful with his engagement to Elizabeth Dyson. Too bad. I had my own problems, or problem, namely Donovan Kincaid.
Alone again, I turned to confront him and found his attention across the room. I followed his gaze to an elegant Asian woman sitting near the bar chatting with a few other people. When Donovan looked at her, she waved.
I glanced back at him. His features had hardened, but he nodded at her.
My gut tightened, and all the definitive things I’d meant to say disappeared from my thoughts once again. “Is she your girlfriend?”
“Sun? No, she’s just a girl I like to fuck.”
He said the word fuck, and suddenly I was there, back in that office all those years ago, pushed against the bookcase with his body pressed into mine. It was one of those images that had stayed hidden during my waking hours for so long, and now it snuck up, crippling me with its potency.
“She’s beautiful,” I said, and I felt like I wanted to cry because my want was so powerful. Because, in that moment, I wanted to be beautiful like her. Wanted to be the beautiful girl he liked to fuck.
“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?” Donovan was a foot away, but I could imagine the feel of his breath along my skin as I craned my neck up for him.
“What?” I was still staring in Sun’s direction.
“Me fucking her.”
I snapped out of my trance. “No!”
“Your body gives you away.”
I wasn’t wearing a bra, and I knew exactly which part of my body gave me away. Thank god he couldn’t see the way my heart was thumping in my chest or the liquid pooling between my legs.
But what was I going to say? No, I’m not imagining you fucking her; I’m remembering you fucking me. It was just as terrible. It was worse, even.