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Tucker’s fingers splayed across her back, resting just above the swell of her butt, his heat searing her skin.
“Guess we’re gonna find out.”
With that he prodded her forward, but his hand never left her body.
Chapter Nine
By eleven o’clock, Tucker wasn’t sure he was going to be able to get through the rest of the night without either A) punching his cousin Cooper in the throat or B) finding some dark corner and kissing Abby until he couldn’t breathe.
So what exactly did that say about him?
Abby Mathews was his friend, goddammit. Friend. Pal. Confidant. As in the girl who was off limits—at least where the sex part came into play—but right now the sex part was pretty much all Tucker was focused on.
All he could think about was Abby Mathews. Her mouth. Her smile. Her eyes. Her breasts. The way she smelled—light and fresh with a hint of something exotic—and the way she laughed so easily you just knew it wasn’t forced.
Then there was that fine butt barely covered by a dress made for sinning.
The carnal thoughts going through his head were X-rated, and even though he tried to keep his eyes off of her, he couldn’t. He felt like a goddamn teenager all over again, one who wanted to mark territory that he had no business marking.
He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, and not because his leg was cramped or anything. He was horny as fuck and the evidence between his legs wasn’t something he wanted his mother to catch sight of. Not when he’d just spent the last few hours trying to convince her that she’d read everything wrong.
He’d assured his parents that he and Abby were just friends. More than once because his mother has asked more than once. Hell, even Abby had smiled sweetly and said the same thing, but his mother had just shook her head as if she knew a secret they didn’t and smiled at them.
Even then , his mother had still questioned him about the status of their relationship, asking him if he was going to bring her out to White Haven, the family home up the coast, or maybe up to the cottage in Canada. She made a point to let him know the place was empty for the next few months.
Tucker had stayed pretty close to Abby throughout the evening, and she still managed to flirt outrageously with Cooper—which was why he wanted to punch his cousin in the throat—as well as Maverick. Shit, you’d think the two of them had never seen a beautiful woman before. They
were like bees flitting around a pot of honey, and it was driving Tucker fucking crazy.
He had no business getting crazy or anything else for that matter, and yet he was getting tired of fighting the questions. Tired of lusting after a woman he knew he was no good for. But hell, he was only human.
He wanted her. plain and simple, and if he was reading the signals right, she wanted him to—and that was a problem. Contrary to whatever the hell notion was going on inside his mother’s head, he and Abby were friends. Shit, if Tucker was gonna be real honest with himself, he’d venture to say that over the last six months or so, she’d become his closest friend.
She knew things about him he hadn’t shared with anyone. Things about Marley and the life that never happened. Things he hadn’t even shared with his twin Teague or brother Beau.
There were some things that were still unsaid, some things he didn’t feel right sharing with anyone, but for the most part Abby knew everything.
He knew his head was still screwed up over his wife, so how could he entertain the thought of some sort of relationship when there were so many loose ends in his life? He couldn’t go there with a woman like Abby, because a woman like Abby deserved more than sex, and aside from friendship, that was pretty much all he had to offer.
With a groan Tucker shifted again, his eyes on Abby as she laughed at something Rick said. Cooper was nowhere in sight so that was something, but Rick and Abby were near the patio that looked out over the water. A slight breeze had built, teasing the air with her hair, and he watched the elegant lift of her hand as she tucked a piece behind her ear.
She rocked jeans and T-shirts—there was no doubt about that—but something about this ultra feminine and sexy side of her was appealing. More than appealing.
“Shit,” he muttered, running his hands over the top of his head. He thought of his brother Teague and wished that he was here. At least then he’d have someone to bitch to who would understand. Beau was too wrapped up in Betty Jo, and he’d hardly seen his older brother Jack. A rising star in the Democratic party, Jack Simon was in demand, and it seemed everyone wanted a piece of him, even at a family function.
“Your friend is something else, Tuck. Glad you found her.”
Speak of the devil.
Tucker glanced up as Jack stopped just in front of him. His dress shirt was undone, tie long gone, and the annoying Monique was nowhere to be seen. She’d flitted around him like a goddamn fly all night, and it was obvious that Jack wasn’t the only one with aspirations. Monique Patterson had her sights set on being a Simon, and Tucker had a feeling that if his brother didn’t play it right, he just might end up saddled with a woman he didn’t love.
“God, not you too,” Tucker muttered. “Look, we’re not involved.”
Jack cocked his head to the side, an eyebrow arched. “Okay,” he said eventually, dragging the word out a bit.
“We’re not,” Tucker repeated, louder than he should. Jesus Christ, what the hell was wrong with his family? Did they not understand the English language?
Jack glanced across the room as Abby’s laughter drifted over to them, and Tucker followed his direction. It had been a long day for most, and with the wedding in less than ten hours, the crowd was thinning.
