Chapter 37
thirty-seven
It’s Saturday and I’m a nervous wreck because the gala starts in less than an hour.
I haven’t seen or spoken to Logan since he stormed out the other day. The memory of his kiss still burns on my lips, making my stomach flutter every time I think about it. Then there’s Brex, who should be here any minute to pick me up.
Yesterday, Sasha helped me pick out my dress.
A deep, exotic red, it’s long, slim, and hugs my curves.
A single strap extends from one end of the halter top to the other under my bra line, hugging it to my chest, causing my breasts to practically spill out for all the world to see.
The backside dips, grazing just above my ass, exposing my entire back.
And the material itself is so soft and slinky over the rest of my body, I have no choice but to go commando.
I’ve pinned my hair up on one side with a sparkly clip, letting it cascade over my opposite shoulder.
Bright red, matte lipstick adorns my lips, and heavily applied smoky black eyeliner makes my eyes pop. Silver heels complete the look, adding three more inches to my five foot ten.
Just as I turn to check my backside one last time, the doorbell rings, making my heart skip into the divot in my throat.
Taking a deep breath, I take one last look in the mirror, grab my small silver clutch off my bed and make my way to the door.
Standing on my front porch in a bespoke black tux stretched taut over his muscular frame, Brex’s freshly cut, dark blond hair is styled away from his face.
I swear the look gives me is one for the record books.
Sucking in a breath, his eyes widen when they land on me. “Jesus Christ,” he rasps.
Jaw dropping, his eyes flare with heat as he takes me in from head to toe, inch my torturous inch.
Blowing out a breath, he visibly gulps, reaching up to grip the back of his neck, looking at me from under his lashes.
“Yeah. I don’t think I’m gonna be able to keep things very friendly tonight, Pretty. Not with you in that dress.”
Stepping into me, he slides his hands over my hips, brushing his fingers up my bare spine, and in that moment, my breath... ceases to exist.
Shit, he smells so freaking good, I’m almost certain his cologne is killing every functioning brain cell I’ve got.
Heat floods my cheeks. “You clean up pretty good yourself.”
His next words are spoken as a soft growl. “Turn around.”
I spin slowly, feeling his eyes burn into every inch of exposed skin.
“Fuck me,” he whispers, moving in close, words rough against my ear as the tips of his fingers trace the line where fabric meets flesh. “You’re going to torture me the whole freakin’ night.”
His fingers trace a slow, deliberate path up the length of my spine, sending shivers rippling.
Then, gripping my shoulders, he gently spins me back around to face him, hands settling on my hips with a firm, possessive grip.
His eyes drop to my chest, tongue gliding, slow and deliberate, across his bottom lip.
“What would you say,” he murmurs, dropping his tone, making my knees weak, “if I told you it wouldn’t hurt for us to be a teensy bit late?”
Heat floods my core, but I trample it down. “Uh, uh, Smirky. I didn’t glam myself up for nothing.”
“Oh, it definitely wouldn’t be for nothing.”
Eliminating what little space remains, he gently grazes his thumb over my bottom lip and smirks.
Fuck. A. Duck.
Then he takes a step back. “You’re right. It’ll be so much more fun to ride this out. Who knows how this night could end.”
One side of my mouth kicks up, catching his gaze. “Exactly,” I murmur. “Good things come to good little boys who wait.”
“Is that right?” Lifting a hand to cup the side of my face, he leans in, brushing his lips over my ear. “Lemme let you in on a little secret, Rey.” He nips my earlobe and my nipples harden instantly. “Filthy and depraved things come to slutty little brats who only delay the inevitable.”
My body. Is Jell-O.
Taking a step back, he offers me his arm. “Ready to cause some trouble, Pretty?”
I slip my hand through the crook of his elbow, trying to ignore the electric current zapping into my throbbing clit. “You know it.”
The drive to the Lakeside Community Center is filled with sexual tension. Brex keeps his hand on my thigh, drawing lazy circles with his thumb making it hard for me to focus on anything else.
When we arrive the parking lot is packed, so Brex pulls up to the valet instead.
Tossing the attendant his keys, he helps me down, hand lingering at the small of my back as we make our way toward the entrance.
“Remember,” he whisper-shouts. “Just friends.”
“Right,” I whisper-shout back with a grin. “Very friendly friends.”
His chuckle makes me feel all squishy as we step inside.
Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting warm light over round tables draped in white linen. And a DJ is set up in the corner. Firefighters in their dress uniforms mingle with townspeople all gussied up in their finest.
Damn. I could really use a drink.
I spot Sasha and Jax across the room, and give them a small wave.
Sasha gives me a thumbs up and mouths. “Damn. You look hot!”
Shaking my head, I roll my eyes at my friend, who then narrows hers back at me.
“Thirsty?” Brex asks.
“Yes, please. I’d kill for a Riesling.”
“You got it.”
As he heads over to the bar, I take a moment to scan the room. My heart stutters when my eyes land on Logan.
Holy. Fucking. Balls.
Standing at the bar, his dress uniform—a crisp navy blue jacket with gold buttons, polished brass badge catching the light—is pressed to perfection, hugging every hard-earned inch of his impressive frame.
His dark hair is combed back, jaw freshly shaved, and the way he holds himself, all rigid with authority and quiet broodiness, makes my mouth go dry.
I can’t breathe. I literally cannot breathe.
Every nerve ending in my body is firing at once, heat flooding my cheeks and down my neck.
Sidling up next to him, Brex leans in close, says something in his ear, then turns his attention to the bartender.
Logan’s head snaps up, sharp green eyes bouncing around the room.
When they land on me, he freezes.
My world instantly blurs—the music, the chatter, the clinking of glasses—all fade into static white noise as his gaze locks onto mine. For one suspended heartbeat, neither of us moves.
Then his eyes drop.
Dark and blazing, they slowly, deliberately, trace the curve of my neck, lingering on the swell of my breasts before following the line of the dress as it hugs my waist, my hips, my thighs.
Every part of me his eyes touch, my skin burns.
When they finally meet mine again, I swear the temperature in the entire room spikes ten degrees, making my knees wobble.
Other than that, there is no reaction.
Giving me his back, Logan says something to Brex that makes him nod. Then he takes the drink the bartender slides across the bar and strides across the room toward a group of older men in suits, disappearing into their circle without so much as a backward glance.
“Here you go, Pretty,” Brex says, handing me the Riesling. His voice is warm, but there’s something knowing in his eyes as they flick between me and where Logan just disappeared.
“Thanks,” I croak, downing half of it in one go. The crisp, cool liquid does absolutely nothing to extinguish the fiery inferno raging beneath my skin.
“I take it you saw him?” Brex asks casually, taking a sip of his whiskey.
“Who?”
He snorts. “Don’t play dumb, Rey. It doesn’t suit you.”
I glare at him over the rim of my glass. “Yes, I saw Logan. And he saw me. Couldn’t even be bothered to come over and say hello. Guess he’s still mad.”
“Mm-hmm.” Brex’s mouth curls, making his dimples pop. “Don’t worry about that. How about we play a little game?”
His eyes glint with mischief.
“Okaaay. Just what kind of game are you suggesting?”
“Tonight, you and I are going to do everything we can to make him squirm. So much so that inside of maybe…” He cants his head back and forth. “…I don’t know. An hour? He’ll be so on edge, he will have no choice but to come over and rip you out of my arms. Whaddya say? Deal?”
A tiny thrill skims up the back of my neck, scalp tingling at the thought of Logan storming across the room, ripping me out of Brex’s arms, yanking me against his chest as he spins me across the dance floor.
Downing the last of my wine, I switch my empty glass with a flute of champagne off a tray from a passing waiter, and down it in one go.
Setting the empty flute down on the table beside me, I slip my palm into his offered hand. “Deal.”
Brex’s grin lights up his whole face. “That’s my girl. Now.” Leaning in a couple of inches, he waggles his eyebrows. “Let’s go show that grumpy ass what he’s missing, yeah?”