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He leans in and whispers, “You’re cute when you try to calm yourself.”
I shoot my chin up, my gaze fixed on his full lips. He lifts me and places me on his lap, ending my tantrum.
“I love you, although you make me mad,” he says and buries his face in the curve of my neck.
I cross my hand over my chest, not at all happy with how I deal with my emotions at this moment.
His hands around my waist tighten, and his voice lowers. “Is it because of Chloe?”
“No, why would it?” I say in a clipped tone.
“Good.” He purses his lips, aware I lied.
I stick my nose in the air, breathing through my mouth. “Ass.”
“What did you say?”
I tilt my face to him, plastering my most innocent look. “I had something stuck in my throat.”
His eyes, those eyes that ruin and raise me, sparkle with mischief as he tucks a strand of hair over my ear.
“You’ll have something in your throat, but not until tonight when we’re alone.”
A wave of heat washes over me, and I quiver.
With our mothers talking animatedly, concocting a detailed plan, the party splits into small groups—one the parents and the other the rest of us. While the men decide where to go out for the night, Soph and I discuss dresses. Damien’s attention shifts more and more toward us, until Sophia pierces him with a heated look.
“Brother, I love you, but there’s no way you’re going anywhere near the bridal shop. Don’t test me, your charms don’t work on me.” He raises his hands in front of him in surrender but fails to hide his irritation.
“I didn’t say a thing.”
“You don’t even have to.”
“Baby, just accept it. You’ll see me on our wedding day. I promise it will be worth the wait.”
We change the subject, but his eyes promise retribution, and I squeeze my legs in response.
***
We say our goodbyes, settling to meet early for a morning flight.
In the car, I sing along with whatever song comes on the radio as Damien teases me over my voice—in his words, the love child of a frog and dying cat. My answer is to slap him on his arm. But I am happy, and he’s happy because I’m happy, and during the entire ride, we don’t stop laughing. Only a few stars pepper the sky when we reach home. After a quick shower, I hop on the bed, curious if he remembers his threat from this afternoon.
I get my answer when he steps inside our bedroom, wearing nothing, his chest shining in the dim moonlight peering from outside, every muscle in his body flexed and hard.
“Strip.”
I gulp and shoot upright in the bed. I peel off the black satin and lace cami and matching shorts, tossing them on the floor. He prowls toward me, grabs my hips, and pins me on the bed. His hands trail down my body, teasing me as he parts my lips with his tongue in a demanding, possessive kiss. I’m already on fire.
His tongue slips in and out of my mouth, to mimic his thrusting inside me, and I become even wetter. He climbs up and straddles me as he takes himself in one hand and guides it to my mouth.
“Open.”
He sinks his teeth into his lower lip and throws his head back.
“Fuck, oh baby, this feels fantastic.”
Pleasuring him pleases me knowing that only I can sate his desire, while mine grows and grows in intensity until he relieves it. He is so deep inside me, my eyes water. He pulls out and says, “I’ll come. I can’t hold it anymore,” then slides down my body, parts my legs and lifts them over his shoulders, his tongue lapping at my entrance. My hips buckle, and I fist his hair, while he bites the inside of my thighs, and I cry out his name.
