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What. The. Fuck?
Is that smile for the Filmore prick?
My veins are on fire. No idea why because, on most days, I can’t stand this girl, except when she’s like this—looser and free. Like she is with Ty because it’s as though I’m not even in this vehicle with them. Not helping my fury.
My new mission—compile an incriminating and scathing file on the Filmore philanderer. Goddamn cheetah. How quickly the princess forgets in the face of something shiny. Predictable.
She sweeps her hair around to her other shoulder, giving me a perfect view of her slender neck and collarbone. “Makes sense that he’s a playboy. Witty. Clever. Charming. And definitely attractive. I’m not discounting Ivy’s warning, but I see the appeal. I suppose that’s always been my problem though. Eagerness to tame the wild ones.”
Fucking hell. I’d love to see what tactics she uses for that.
I’ve got some of my own, Carver.
CELESTE
Not one word. He was like a ghost for the entire drive, hovering in the background. Every nerve and pore and cell of my body prickled with awareness that Liam was behind us. With each subtle shift of my head, my peripheral vision strained to gauge his facial cues to no avail. Stony.
I hate that I can’t look away.
At least we’re finally here. Traffic and patrons littered the front of the resort when we pulled around, but the spot we’re parked in is reserved for us. The covered lot only accommodates ten vehicles. It already feels exclusive.
My door flies open as I’m gathering my clutch. Liam must’ve jumped out because Ty hasn’t even turned the car off. This is why I found myself prattling on during that never-ending ride, a knot balled at the base of my lungs—an air bubble of perplexing emotions.He’s acting strange, not that I find his traditional composure comforting, but at least it’s anticipated.
He reaches for my hand, pulling me up to meet him, his lean fingers curling around mine with a sizzling sensation. Goose bumps soar up my arm, but the air is cool.
God, I wish that were the culprit.
I school my features, hoping to mask this vexing reaction I’m having, and offer a polite, “Thank you,” for his supposed gallantry.
He’s so imposing, all long limbs and intimidating stature. With my four-inch heels on, I’m about five-ten, but his shoes must give him an inch or two also, rendering him six-four or six-five.
He slips his arm snuggly around my waist, anchoring me to his side with a divine, commanding strength. “On me. Keep it tight, princess.”
My breath hitches as his lips tickle my ear with that order. Maybe he’s just in security mode. If so, my body isn’t getting the memo. It never responds this way to Rex or the other guys, and they corral me plenty. I’ve never tried to inhale their cologne or commit their scent to memory. This heady buzz is fruitless though—not worth another second of consideration.
But that moment back at the house, things felt … confusing.
It wasn’t his surveying of the dress draping my curves or the swell of my breasts peeking out that had me rattled. Men gawk at women. Nothing new there. I’ve never been one to hide from a hungry perusal, confident with my most blatant assets on display.
Given the right circumstances, I can render an opponent dizzy enough that they underestimate what’s underneath. Like my mother taught me. And I do value having the upper hand—it’s invigorating.
Liam definitely paints himself as an opponent. My dress certainly displays my assets.
And he took note of every single one.
But when I was on that staircase, he wasn’t only regarding my sultry bends. He was entangling my soul, reeling it in for closer examination. Trying to dissect me in a way I’ve never experienced, which was unsettling. Disconcerting. I’m not sure I liked it even though it took monumental effort to break that hypnotic haze and walk out the door. And yet, throughout my conversation with Ty, I felt both enlightened and terrified.
That deep dive might be a new craving. To have someone who will search me, drowning my soul in his gaze and becoming my oxygen. Liam Graves is most definitely oxygen—one way or another. But I’m not a fool. Oxygen can either birth our breaths or fuel the fire. Even the air has choices. And I’m not sure if Liam wants to keep me warm, help me breathe, or burn me to ashes.
With the way he’s owning that suit, like a cross between a Calvin Klein model and a young godfather—all power and aloof sex appeal—I don’t think I care.
None of it matters though. My fate is sealed. It’s time to focus on making the best of it, carving my place in the world I’m being thrust into. It’s not a terrible destiny, so I refuse to be all woe is me. The Carver name might come with a family legacy full of trifling expectations, but it also affords me a platform for change.
Most people don’t find an epic love, out-of-this-world sex, and life purpose in a single destination. Ivy’s been blessed with a unicorn situation, which is exactly what she deserves—not that it doesn’t come with some drawbacks, but we all make sacrifices. I’ve made peace with mine.
But tonight is for fun. Tonight, I forget.
Ty strides along with us, clinging to my other side, but it’s Liam who keeps hold of me with every step. Butterflies flutter from my stomach to my throat.
