Chapter 28 #2
"Not an update on my inebriation." Rob opened his eyes, rubbed the back of his neck. I wanted to stop him, bat his hand away, do it for him. Ease his tension. Ease everything.
So, I did.
I took a final step toward him and reached for the back of his neck with both hands.
My fingers slipped beneath his starched collar, meeting warm skin.
The scent of bourbon and Kiehl's olive fruit shampoo lingered on him.
I leaned in, inhaled, brushed my lips over his jaw.
He swayed toward me, a soft growl sounding in his throat as my thumbs kneaded his knots.
"Tell me something," I said.
"I've already told you the important stuff," he remarked.
My lips twitched into a smirk. "Why are you drinking?"
He cut his gaze toward the island and his abandoned tumbler. "Jet lag, I think."
"Since it's three hours earlier in California, that's pure bullshit." I smiled up at him. "Come on, Rob. Tell me what's happening with you."
"I was getting dressed and I thought about calling Eddie.
For a minute, I forgot my best friend is gone.
I forgot that he pissed away a lifelong friendship and I can't call him up to tell him—anything.
I can't tell him anything. Not anymore. And I can't be happy for him tonight.
They deserve each other. They share the same views on loyalty. "
He moved his hands to my hips but didn't stay there.
He skimmed up to my waist and down to my backside, his touch gentle.
Almost tentative. He swayed once again but this wasn't a drunken stumble.
It was a dance to which neither of us knew the steps but we had a good idea how we wanted it to feel.
We held each other, moving together in a waltz set to breaths and heartbeats.
Rob continued, "I guess I'm mourning the loss of my friend. I don't think I've allowed myself that yet. So, I poured myself a drink. And then, one more. I recognize this isn't the most well-adjusted coping mechanism for thirty-eight-year-old men but I've never once suggested I was well-adjusted."
"What did you want to share with him?"
He tipped his head to the side, a half-smile playing on his lips as he glanced down at me. "I wanted to tell him I met the game changer. That I fell for the game changer."
I stared at the freckled skin between his open collar. So much easier than meeting his gaze. So much easier than sliding all the way into this quicksand of his affection. "Is that so?"
An impatient growl sounded in his throat. "Stop fishing for compliments. I've already said you're hot as fuck and I love you. Don't make me confess my plans to steal you away and marry you."
I leaned back, touched a hand to my throat. If I was wearing pearls, I would've clutched them. "What was that?"
"Shhhh," he whispered, his index finger pressed to his lips. "It's a secret but I'm going to get you a diamond the size of an egg and you're going to make a husband out of me, love."
"What kind of egg?" We'd shuffled all the way across the room now. "Are we talking about chicken eggs or robin eggs? There's a big difference, Rob."
That was my incredibly mature coping mechanism in action. Give me an important moment and I'd give you some topflight sarcasm.
"Ostrich," he replied, serious as a stroke. "I might have to steal from a few monarchies to make it happen but they'll never notice it missing."
"Oh, good." I bobbed my head in agreement. "That's a good strategy."
"Thought so." He lifted his shoulders, let them fall.
"I don't think we need to go to this party.
I don't need to prove anything to them." He ran his knuckles down the line of my spine before wrapping his arms around my torso.
He held me tight, almost too tight. I loved it.
"I don't need to do it. Not when I'd much rather stay here and peel that dress off you. "
"This"—I traced the fine detailing around the dress's v-neck—"is not hitting the floor until it's been adequately flaunted."
Rob's eyes crinkled as he laced our fingers together, brought our clasped hands to his chest. "Oh, love.
I'll flaunt you. I'll flaunt the fuck out of you.
And you know what? I won't even have to work that hard at it.
You, just being all your you-ishness, is all it takes.
" He dropped his chin to the crown of my head, blew out a breath.
"Eddie will take one look at us and he'll know.
He'll know he did me a favor—a shitty one, but a favor.
He'll know I never looked at Miranda the way I look at you. "
"And how is that?" I whispered. I had to whisper. Had to pretend I didn't need every last one of his words.
He dragged his gaze up my body, taking forever to meet my eyes. "You're the only thing in the world I can see. Only thing I want to see."
My lips parted but I produced no sound. I couldn't explain it but those words hit me harder than his promise of love. They stole my breath, blurred my vision. I wasn't certain but it felt like my eyes transformed into cartoon hearts and throbbed right out of my skull.
Jesus Horatio Christ. I was falling for him.
This, this was it. Falling was like this—a cartwheel and a jump from the high dive and tripping on a crack in the sidewalk and feeling the wind knocked out of your lungs as you crashed down.
All of those things, all at once. Hot goose bumps ran down my arms and over my chest. A shiver sparked through my shoulders.
My stomach—wherever it was—flipped, flipped again. Everything was warm and tingly.
He…loved me.
And I…oh my god. Oh, my god.
"You know what?" he asked. "We'll go. We'll drink champagne and toast this engagement because if those cocksuckers hadn't found each other, I never would've found you. I'm happy for it."
I tipped my head to the side. "Now we're thanking them?"
"Oh, fuck no," he roared. "Fuck. No. They deserve chlamydia and back-to-back tax audits."
"Rob. That might be a little severe." When he arched his brows, I continued, "The audits, not the chlamydia."
"Not hardly," he murmured. "But I would've been engaged—maybe even married—to a woman I didn't love and be best fucking friends with a guy who didn't have my back and I don't feel like they fucked me up anymore.
I feel like—like one of those memes about the world working in mysterious ways and light coming after the dark and slogging through shit to see the sunrise. "
"By that logic, they're the game changers," I said. "Not me."
"Erroneous," he yelled. It sounded like he was objecting in court. Gronk joined in with a howl. "Erroneous on all counts."
"You're drunk," I said with a laugh.
He shook his head once. "Not nearly as much as you think I am."
I peered at him then, wondering whether he was right.
Whether I'd decided he was hammered and therefore everything out of his mouth was the product of loosened inhibitions and a slippery tongue.
But I couldn't prevent myself from giving him a yeah, whatever eyeroll and head bob, and saying, "This would be a great time for me to ask if you want—"
"Yes," he interrupted. "Whatever it is, yes."
"Cool, cool," I murmured. "It's a good thing I brought my new strap-on, then."
That goddamn sarcasm of mine.
He gave me a bland stare. "For you, I'd do it.
I'd ask you to go easy and use extra lube.
Even more than you think necessary. The most lube ever.
But I'd do it. I'd take whatever you had to give me, and who the fuck knows?
Maybe I'd enjoy it." When a giggle slipped past my lips, he continued, "Ask the question, Magnolia. "
I brought my free hand to my hair, stopping a second before I mussed the carefully messy bun I'd managed. I whispered, "Are you sure?"
I'd intended to ask him to help Matt and Lauren move into their new house next weekend but I couldn't do it. I couldn't make this moment about anyone but us. And that was where Ben had me—I did know.
Oh, yeah. I knew. But I was a woman who lived in a cloud of doubt. Hell, there were instances when I didn't even believe these men liked me more than they liked the thrill of competition.
Rob studied me, his brow furrowed. He seemed confused, maybe annoyed. Maybe it was an annoying question. Maybe I was meant to take his words at face value and be happy I heard them at all.
I swiveled my head from side to side, shaking that nonsense loose. My sarcasm could stay but this uncertainty had to go. I'd come too far, worked too hard to let that noise drag me down.
"I'm sure I didn't love Miranda," he said.
"I cared about her and I thought we were right for each other but we never loved each other.
I know that now." His lips brushed over my temple as he locked his arms around my waist. "I know I love you and I know it has nothing to do with wanting to win. I realized something else this week."
I tipped my head back to meet his gaze. Stared, waited for him to continue. When he didn't, I said, "By all means, draw out the drama. I'm here for the suspense."
"You're so mean to me," he drawled. "How do you make it hurt so good, love?"
He was hard through his tuxedo pants, thick and throbbing. But that could wait. Sex was great but the sensation of every damn cell in your body colliding into a sharp arrow of affection for another human was better than any orgasm. "Because I know how."
"What else do you know?" he asked. I ran my hand up his chest, pinched his nipple. He yelped, flattened me against him. "Why do I like it when you're mean to me?" He shook his head. "Never mind. Don't answer that."
His hands slipped over my backside. "What else did you realize?" I asked.
"That you could choose the firefighter," he said. "You could choose him and I'd bow out. I'd hate it. I'd fucking hate it. But I'd do it if it meant you were happy. If it was your choice, I'd wish you the best and step aside."