Chapter Twenty-One #4
He kissed her fingers. “Answer my question, Jo.”
She shivered. “Because I would never subject you to my family. I don’t even like being around them.”
“I would have been your plus one if you’d asked.” He looked up, that crooked sexy grin plucking the invisible string between her nipples and clit. “And you wouldn’t have had to pay me.”
“Get a room.” Georgia slinked into the chair adjacent to Avery. “I swear, Jo, you’re always trying to hog the spotlight.”
“Ah, Georgia,” he said, shaking his head, his whiskey-smooth voice as intoxicating as ever, “Jo doesn’t need to stand in the spotlight. She is the spotlight.”
Avery unfolded that long, tall-drink-of-water body from the chair.
God, Jo was parched. It had been too long.
He stepped close, leaving only an inch of air between them. His hand hovered at her cheek. She held her breath, anticipating his touch, and would have closed her eyes, but his dark-as-sin gaze held her spellbound.
His jaw ticked. “I want you so fucking bad, right now.”
A whimper of need slipped past her lips before she could stop it.
With excruciating slowness, he slid his fingers into the hair at her nape and drew her onto her tiptoes. Her hands landed on his chest as lips like warm velvet caressed her mouth in a barely-there kiss. “Dance with me.”
She’d rather have more kisses. “Yes.”
Avery led her to the center of the dance floor and pressed in close, his body hot and hard against her, his arms wrapping around her, strong, possessive, bone-melting.
She’d been dead inside without him, and after only one second in his arms, she felt alive again, whole. But the explosive chemistry between them had never been the problem.
Shaking her head to clear it, she braced her hands on his shoulders and pushed. “Back it up, fuckboy.”
He leaned back to look at her. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed hearing that. How much I’ve missed your scent on my skin.” Fingers splayed, his hands roamed over her back. “Touching you, tasting you, sliding my di—”
She shoved again. “I meant it. We need to talk.”
“I missed that, too.” But his expression sobered, and he loosened his hold. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Should we go somewhere more private?”
“No, I don’t trust myself alone with you.”
That lazy grin was back, but before he could pour on more of that smooth-talking, panty-stealing charm, she asked, “Avery, why aren’t you in Santorini? Why aren’t you on the beach with some bikini babe rubbing lotion on your…back?”
“Because I’m where I want to be, where I need to be, with the only woman I want. This week without you was the longest fucking week of my life, and I’m sorry it took me so long to figure out that I felt the same as you.”
“And how is that?”
“That I can’t breathe without you. That I need you in my life. That I want to be your fuckboy, and only yours.”
She laughed around the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry I left. I should have stayed like you asked me to and given you the time you needed, but I was afraid that when you finally figured out what you wanted, it wouldn’t be me.”
“It’ll always be you, Jo. Always.”
His mouth slanted over hers, hot and hungry, an assault on her senses.
He tasted of champagne and a firestorm of passion that made her ache for more.
God, she’d missed his kisses. The beat of his heart under her palm.
The sound of his breath hitching when her tongue danced with his.
The feel of his hands skimming across her skin.
As his lips abandoned hers, she moaned the loss.
“I love you, Jo,” he whispered, his voice gravelly with emotion, “and I want it all with you—kids, as many as you want, and a fucking picket fence. I’ll give you anything, everything, if you’ll let me.”
“I don’t need a picket fence. I just need to know you’re not straddling it anymore, and you’re on my side.”
“I don’t know what that means, but I’m definitely on your side.” A slow grin pulled at his mouth. “And I finally figured out something else.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“I want to be your glue.”
Sliding her arms around his neck, Jo stood on tiptoe and kissed him, slowly, softly. “I love you, Avery Preston.”
A loud crash broke them apart. The band screeched to a halt. Everyone on the dance floor turned as one toward Georgia’s wailing.
The tent had caved in, taking down the table with the three-tiered cake Jo had stayed up all night decorating. Georgia sat in a puddle of white tulle, her veil covered in icing and cake smeared across the front of her dress.
Lydia was screaming at Walt to do something. He tried to help Georgia up, but Lydia pushed him. He tripped over Georgia, grabbed Lydia to right himself, and over they both went, landing in the first and second tiers.
“Somehow, this will be my fault.” Jo rolled her eyes and sighed. “Welcome to my life.”
Avery laughed and shook his head, then hooked a thumb toward the opposite side of the tent.
Seated around a table, Avery’s parents, Laine and Connie, and the rest of his family—Nick, Spencer and Melody, Marcus and Charlotte—lifted their champagne glasses in a toast of smiles and the promise of a loving family.
“No, Jo,” he tipped her face to his and looked at her with all the love he’d expressed and a shimmer of naughty bad boy, “welcome to mine.”
~*~
Thank you for reading Bachelor Bad Boy.