Chapter Thirty
Theo adjusted the black tie that looped around his neck. He had been nervous for this weekend. Nervous for Olivia to meet his extended family and friends, all of whom would give him that knowing glance he hated.
Smoothing his hand down his chest and checking the button was fastened on the tuxedo, he began walking towards the door.
The wedding was due to start any minute now, and Theo had to get downstairs and in his place alongside Olivia in the fold-out white chairs before people made comments about the bride’s brother being late to his very own sister’s wedding.
Knowing half the bodies in attendance would do just that anyway, he wanted to minimise the side effects of gossip and drama by being there at least before the flower girl.
Theo knocked sharply on the double white doors that lead to the bridal suite. Georgia’s friend opened the door, holding a mimosa in one hand, and a bouquet of flowers in the other. “Oh hey, Theo.”
“Jessie.” He nodded in greeting, glancing over her shoulder at the sea of pink silk dresses and champagne glasses.
“Are you here to wish the bride good luck?” she asked, clicking her tongue and leaning her body closer to his.
Trying to ignore the woman’s not-so-subtle attempt to invade his personal space and flash far too much cleavage his way, Theo looked beyond her.
It was safe to say he didn’t like her.
She was a flirt and had absolutely no shame taking her shot at any man who would glance her way, on purpose or by accident.
“I’m here for my date, actually. I spoke to Georgia this morning.”
“Date?” Jessie asked.
“Theo.” Olivia’s voice sounded out through the doorway, her petite figure waltzing up to them with purpose.
“Yes, my date,” Theo remarked, flicking his eyes back to Jessie in time to see the hope drain out of her face and her shoulders droop in defeat.
The dress Olivia was wearing made him take in a deep breath.
It was a light pink silk; the fabric draped over every curve and angle of her body.
The cowl neckline was torture, giving him a glimpse of the creamy flesh of her chest and the dark beauty spot that was situated perfectly over her beating heart.
He had to calm himself down before he went absolutely feral. Before he tore it to shreds and took her right then and there like a wild animal, against the gold-lined French doors. That was the moment he knew he was in trouble.
Big trouble.
The dress made him think of things. Things far too indecent for his little sister’s wedding.
It made him remember the kiss. The night in the hotel.
The way her lips had slanted perfectly over his, the way he had bitten her cupid’s bow gently, how she had swiped her tongue across his bottom lip as if she wanted to savour the very taste of him, of his lips, and burn it into the depths of her memory.
And in those moments, he had memorised the way she tasted. Like sweet honey and fresh, juicy strawberries.
Shit. He remembered how the beautiful woman in front of him had curled her body around his in her sleep, the smell of her floral shampoo and the way she had skimmed those plush lips against his. It made him want to taste her again.
She still had a few feet of ground to cover before joining him and Jessie. He still had a few seconds to not think about how her soft flesh had felt as it was pressed up against his. Her hand skirting down his chest and—
“Theo, you ready?” Olivia shot him a smile, which went straight to his chest, where he felt his heart tighten at the light sparkle of her eyes and the melodic nature of her voice.
“Olivia.” It was like his brain had short-circuited, the only thing he remembered was her name, her lips, her smile.
Just her.
All of her.
Mine, he thought, his gaze drinking in her curvaceous form in that bloody silk dress once more, because looking once didn’t seem like enough to drink in how gorgeous she was standing in the doorway, the bright summer sun shining behind her, making her hair look like strings of pure gold. “Yes,” he replied, “I’m ready.”