Chapter 15 #3
I was not expecting him to say that.
Maybe a sorry for moving to Australia or possibly wishing me the best of luck.
But he’s coming home, and he wants my forgiveness? Wow, just wow.
Halsey grows more tense as he steps in even closer.
While I’m reeling with this new information, Halsey mutters, “Too little, too late. Leave her the fuck alone.”
And then he pulls me out onto the dance floor.
He tugs me in close, rests his hand on my hip, and grips my hand tight as he slowly starts moving us to the music.
My heart races as he leans in close to my ear and says, “If you want him back, tell me right now and I’ll step aside.
If not . . . then I’m going to make sure I spend the rest of the night showing him exactly who you belong to. ”
Do I want him back?
I . . . don’t know.
I wasn’t expecting Perry to ever stake claim over me again. Not after the way we left things.
And when he left, I wasn’t entirely heartbroken, more confused . . . maybe slightly relieved.
But relieved from what?
That’s what I don’t understand.
Did I not love him?
Because I thought I did.
I thought we were going to be married.
So why did I think losing him wasn’t a heartache? The music plays and we move together, almost as if we’ve danced together a thousand times before. It’s nice. And it’s giving me space to be with my thoughts for a little longer.
Halsey’s finger slips under my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “Do you want him?” he asks, his expression soft as he speaks to me, nothing like the hard stone Perry had to face.
Do I want Perry?
I don’t think I want him the way I want the man right in front of me.
The desire isn’t there.
I don’t get goosebumps when he’s around.
And I sure as hell don’t feel weak-kneed whenever he speaks to me.
I bite the corner of my lip as I swallow. “I . . . I don’t think so.”
“I need a solid answer, Blakely. Do you want him?”
From the way Halsey holds his breath and grips my waist so tightly, it almost feels like my answer rests heavily on his heart.
I wet my lips delicately, then say, “I don’t want him.”
He slowly nods and whispers, “Then you’re mine for the night.”
And before I can ask him what that means, he leans down, closing the space between us. To my utter shock and surprise, he gently presses a kiss to my lips.
It’s so faint, so featherlike, that I almost feel like I’m imagining it until a bolt of lust spikes through me, awakening a sleepy sexual beast that’s been in a slumber for quite some time.
Oh my God . . .
He pulls away and whispers, “Let’s get drinks.”
Yes . . . drinks.
Please drinks.
“Woooooo!” I shout as Arlene and Marco kiss, thanks to Arlene’s aunt clinking her wineglass for the tenth time during dinner.
Not sure who is more drunk at this moment, Aunt Glass Clinker . . . me . . . or Halsey.
Perry sent us both into a tailspin, well, Perry and the kiss. The kiss heard around the world!
Maybe not around the world, but that’s what it felt like, a smack of all lip smackers. Does that make sense? Either way, Halsey kissed me, and I swear I could hear a pin drop at that moment.
I could actually feel the pulse between my legs.
Yup . . . this girl, your girl, she was turned on.
And it was such a simple kiss. Barely a kiss. A peck. I’ve had more intimate kisses with an ice cream cone.
But after the kiss, we headed to the bar, took two tequila shots, courtesy of my order, and then I grabbed a special wedding cocktail designed for the bride and groom while Halsey grabbed another beer.
With empty glasses now in front of us, our plates have just been delivered, and we’re feeling good.
Really good.
I turn toward Halsey, my knees pressing against the side of his leg, and I say, “He’s scowling again.”
With a goofy grin, Halsey places his hand on my thigh and says, “Good. Let him fucking scowl.”
Perry sits across from us at the same table, something I know Arlene probably couldn’t avoid. I’m okay with it; this was all last minute, so I’m not going to complain. Thankfully, the peonies are giving us an ounce of privacy.
“Want some more mashed potatoes?” Halsey lifts his fork to my mouth.
“I have some on my plate.”
“Yeah, but eating it off my fork is better.”
“Is your fork magic?” I ask.
He nods. “Yup.”
“Then put the magic in my mouth.”
He smirks and slides his fork past my lips. I wrap my mouth around the tines, and as he pulls the fork away, I suck on it, hollowing out my cheeks.
His brows raise as he says, “That was fucking suggestive.”
“Well, you can’t be the only actor between the two of us. I’ve got to throw in some moves for at least the supporting actress nomination. I feel like you’re carrying the team on your back right now.”
“I’m glad you see it that way.” He takes a mouthful of his mashed potatoes. “Because that’s exactly what’s happening. About time you carry some weight around here.”
“Are you saying I’m not holding up my end of the bargain?”
“I’m saying you can pretend you like me more.” He takes a sip of water from the glass in front of him and sets it down.
“My body language is pointed toward you, and that’s a good sign. What more can I do without making a scene . . . like dry-humping your lap?”
“Dry-humping at a wedding? Class, Blakely. Show some fucking class.”
That makes us both laugh.
“My apologies. How about this.” Bringing my hand to the back of his neck, I lightly play with the small hairs at his nape. “Does this work?”
“It’s a start,” he says as he places his hand on my exposed thigh from my slit and then slides it high, making my entire body twitch with anticipation. “This is better.”
“Oh, I see,” I say as I move in closer, causing his hand to move higher, almost to the juncture of my thigh.
I move my other hand to his chest, where I undo another button and slide my hand along his exposed skin.
“God, you’re so muscular,” I say, loving how his heated skin warms my palm.
When our eyes connect, I ask, “This better?”
“Much,” he says, his thumb sliding over my thigh.
No one can see his hand—it’s blocked by the chair and the table—and nor can they see his thumb moving back and forth, but it feels right, like that minor stroke is playing the part.
And that’s what we’re doing, right? We’re playing a part.
We’re acting.
Yet when he looks into my eyes, it doesn’t feel like he’s acting. It feels like he’s seeing straight into my soul.
“I bet he’s watching,” I say.
“How could he not?” Halsey says. “You’re breathtaking.”
Butterflies erupt in my stomach because, oh my God, he’s playing with my freaking heart.
Does he mean that? Is he just saying that in the hopes that Perry can read lips? Because he can’t, not that I know of at least.
Unsure of what to say, I reply, “ You’re breathtaking.”
He chuckles. “Yeah? You think so?”
I smooth my hand over his rock-hard chest. “Yes, just feel this, it’s so strong. Who knew a chest could be like this?”
“Perry wasn’t much of a weightlifter?” he asks.
I glance over at Perry who’s speaking with the older woman next to him. I shake my head. “More of a runner. He kept in shape, but he didn’t lift or anything like that.”
“What do you prefer?”
“This,” I say, running my thumb over his chest.
“Good.” He turns toward me and interlocks our legs so one of mine is between his. He keeps his hand on my thigh as he says, “What else do you prefer?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, wondering if this intimate conversation is part of the show. Is he trying to make me blush, make me swoon for the show of it, or is this real?
Why am I even thinking it’s real?
He’s way out of my league. No way would someone like Halsey even consider me for anything intimate.
Yet . . .
The dressing room.
Him zipping me up.
That kiss.
It feels so real.
Then again, I’ve been drinking. Maybe that’s all this is, my drunk mind wandering on me.
I’m exposed right now and slightly raw from my ex being in the same room and his announcement that he’s moving back here. It’s been an attack on all fronts. So maybe I’m just clinging to any feeling I can grasp . . . including Halsey’s heady caresses.
“What else do you prefer in a man?” he repeats as his thumb runs across my exposed skin.
A thrumming erupts between my legs when his eyes connect with mine. His hand moves up another inch, and I can feel everything twitch inside me with anticipation.
“Umm . . .” I wet my lips. “I prefer someone attentive. Someone who likes to have fun. Someone who cares about me and our relationship.”
He nods. “What else? Be more specific.”
“More specific?” I ask. “Umm . . . I guess someone who’ll challenge me but also go along with me when I need it.”
“Like ordering cheese pizza because you love it and don’t want to pick off the pepperoni?”
I smile. “Exactly. I also want someone who isn’t afraid to show me who they really are and what they really want in all aspects in life . . . including the bedroom.”
His eyes turn dark, and I know that reaction isn’t acting. There is no way.
“And what do you like in the bedroom?” he asks, his hand moving up another inch.
My heart rate kicks up as I quietly say, “Everything.”
One of his brows lifts. “Everything?”
I slowly nod. “Everything.”
The smallest of smirks falls over his face before he pulls away and lifts from his chair. Confused, I’m about to ask him where he’s going, but he holds his hand out to me. I take it, ready to walk away with him anywhere.
The dance floor has started to fill as people have finished their meals. The lights have dimmed, and the music has grown louder. Halsey walks me over to the bar, pressing his hand to my lower back and leaning into my ear. “Want another drink?”
“Yes,” I answer without even thinking about it.
And I want him to have another drink, because I like this looser side of him.
“Mind if I order for you?” His hand rests above my ass now.
“Please do,” I say, my voice coming out breathless.