“Barbette, you’ll show your father respect,” my mother chastised.
“Why? I have as much respect for him as he does for me.” My father angrily shoved to his feet, so I finally gave him my full attention. “Are you going to beat me?” I mocked. “Send me to prom all broken and bruised? What will people think?”
“Oh, don’t you worry, daughter. I’ll make sure they won’t see a damn thing under that dress.”
He took a threatening step forward, and although my breath had gotten caught in my throat, I stood, too, inching toward the lamp on the side table. I was no longer the thirteen-year-old girl who’d been too terrified of her father to fight back.
Just as he raised his hand to slap me down, and I dove for the lamp, the doorbell rang. My father and I froze with less than two feet separating us.
“Oh, dear, that must be Ever,” my mother announced.
Knowing that it couldn’t be, I clutched the lamp tighter, preparing to strike if my father so much as blinked at me wrong.
“Barbette, please put that down,” my mother urged. “Someone might see.”
“Tell your husband to back off.”
To my surprise, he did just that, though the threat in his eyes was still there. “We’ll revisit this conversation later.”
“Looking forward to it.” I had no idea what had gotten into me. I just knew I refused to be their whipped dog any longer.
The doorbell rang again, and my mother rushed to answer the door. I kept my gaze on my father even after he was seated again and sipping his brandy with his legs crossed as if nothing had happened. Of course, he wouldn’t want Ever to know that he’d just been preparing to beat his fiancé.
“Barbette.” My mother’s soft voice carried from the foyer. Tossing the lamp on the sofa, I charged from the room. A man I didn’t recognize stood inside the foyer with his cap in his hand.
“Madam. I’m Oliver, your driver for the night.”
“Well, where is Ever?” my mother asked. “Shouldn’t he be here to escort you?”
“He’s probably still embarrassed over the interview.” Laying a comforting hand on her arm, I thanked God for not giving me sensibilities as delicate as my mother’s. “Give him some time.” Turning to the driver, I narrowed my gaze on him. “Ever did send you, right?”
Oliver simply smiled, although nervously, before extending his hand toward the open front door. I moved until I could see out the door and stared at the white stretch limo parked in the drive. The windows were too dark for me to see who waited inside.
Why had Ever come? He should have been on his knees, begging Four’s forgiveness. Hell, I should have been right beside him.
Angry with my best friend for being such a fucking, self-sacrificing idiot, I marched past the driver and out the front door without saying goodbye to my mother.
Oliver somehow managed to beat me to the limo, and I offered him a weak smile when he opened the door for me. The moment it closed behind me, I knew I’d been led into a trap. I saw the shadow of a hand reaching up before there was a click. Light now bathed the other end of the limo and the passenger sitting underneath the soft glow.
The moment Jamie flashed his teeth in a wolfish smile, I reached for the door. Surprisingly, Jamie didn’t try to stop me. A second later, I learned why when the door wouldn’t budge.
“Child locks,” he announced. “Man’s greatest invention.”
Huffing, I slammed my clutch on the leather bench. “Don’t you ever get enough?”
Jamie didn’t respond as he leaned over, lifted a bottle chilling on ice and two glass flutes, and began pouring. “You’ll be pleased to know that I’m insatiable.”
“Why would I care?”
“Because at the end of the night, I’m going to fuck you. Champagne?” He offered me the flute, and after the week I had, I was tempted to take it, but considering his claim and his confidence behind it, I figured it was best to keep my guard up. There was no part of me that believed Jamie would take advantage, but I wasn’t so sure I wouldn’t.
“No, thank you. How did you even get that?”
“I have my ways.”
“You stole it,” I said, reading between the lines.
“I have my ways,” he repeated. Leaning back, he sipped at his champagne as he admired me from head to toe. I plucked at the material of my gown and tried not to wonder what he thought since he’d chosen it for me. After yesterday, I shouldn’t care. “Come here.”
My lips parted for “No” to slip past them until I realized that one way or another, Jamie would have his way. Sliding over to make room for him, I lifted a brow and waited.
Grinning, he came to me, sitting close enough for our thighs to touch.
“Jamie, this bench is at least six feet long. Do you have to sit so close?”
“Six feet?” He turned his head back and forth as if measuring himself. “I’m six-four. It’ll be tight, but I’m sure we can make it work.” Resting his arm above my head, he leaned down to kiss me, and I pressed my fingers against his lips stopping him.
“You are not six-four.”
Jamie’s eyes sparkled as he grinned down at me. “All right, you got me. I’m six-two.” I pursed my lips while he held my gaze, trailing his fingers down my bare arm and leaving goose bumps in their wake. “I like seeing you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Vulnerable.”
I curled my lip. “You mean weak.”
“Yes,” he replied unapologetically. “I know how strong you are, Bee. I’ve seen it for myself, but knowing you’re as powerless against me as I am for you gets my dick hard, too.”
“And who says I want you hard?”
His crooked smile was barely visible in the dark. “Neither of us has much choice in that aspect, I’m afraid.”
I didn’t have anything to say that wouldn’t damn us both, so I let my head fall back against the seat and said nothing. I felt safe in the cocoon Jamie provided.
“We’re bad for each other,” I reminded him.
His lids lowered as he bit his bottom lip. He looked ready to eat me alive, and I felt ready to let him. “That’s what makes it so exciting.”
“And when the excitement wears off?”
He didn’t respond as he slowly lowered his head. My breaths came hard and fast when he pressed his lips to the top of my breasts spilling out of my gown. How did we get here? Yesterday, we were enemies.
You still are.
My pussy didn’t seem to care, and if it weren’t for the thick volume of the ball gown, proof would have soaked the leather seats by now. Each of his soft kisses burned hotter than the last.
Jamie started making his way up my neck, and it felt as if he was leaving no part of me untouched. “It’s been five years,” he reminded between kisses. “Are you feeling less enthused about us yet?”
“Lust and love are not the same thing.”
“Thank God,” he agreed with a groan. “The human race would never survive.”
“Do you really think we can make love without trust?”
He stiffened before lifting his head to meet my gaze. “Make love?” he echoed incredulously before shoving his fingers through his hair and ruining the gel he’d used to style it. “Jesus fuck, you really are a virgin.”