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“With what? How big your muscles are?” She’s teasing me, and I fucking love it.
“For your information,” I say, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her flush against me. “I was distracted by how gorgeous you look in that dress you’re wearing.”
Her eyes turn from mirthful to serious as she whispers, “What are you doing?” with her hands pressed against my chest.
“Acting like your boyfriend,” I murmur, bowing my head and brushing the tip of my nose to hers. “Is this too much?”
“Um.” She swallows hard, her eyelids fluttering closed as her fingers flex then relax against my pecs. “Is this…what you would normally do?”
“Kiss my girl for whipping my ass in a ball game?” I hook a finger beneath her chin and lift until she opens her eyes and looks up at me. “Hell, yeah,” I whisper, bringing my mouth to hers and gently sucking on her bottom lip. I want to wrap my arms around her and drive my tongue down her throat, devour her until she can’t breathe anymore while I show her what I’d like to do with my dick, each time my tongue moves alongside hers. I want to possess her. I want to own her. And I never want to let her go. But…there are children around—not to mention her father is watching. So, I’m forced to keep things chaste. I’m forced to hold back, keeping our first kiss soft and all too brief.
“Well, you’re certainly very good at doing that,” she whispers as we part lips and she looks up at me, so flushed that my dick rears up, desperate for me to know exactly how far that blush goes.
“Just wait until I get a chance to kiss you properly. It’ll curl your toes.”
She giggles, and all I want to do is take her some place quiet and kiss some more, but Tony’s kid, Mitchell, comes running across the yard yelling, “Desseeeeeeeeeert!” like he’s a fucking airplane or something. He’s cute and all, but his timing sucks.
“I think it’s time for dessert,” Delany says, smiling as she steps back from me and I’m forced to release her. In a way, I’m thankful. Dessert means we’re one step away from this meal being over, one step away from being shown to our room, one step away from being alone together.
When we first agreed to this event, I’d planned to be a gentleman and sleep on the floor. But now…well, now I don’t plan on being a gentleman at all….
DELANEY
“Now, you all know by now that I’m getting somewhat…old,” Aunty Joan says after the dessert plates are taken away and the evening draws to a close. We’re all stuffed full with pie and ice cream, so we’ve moved back into the sitting room for champagne to toast the day. She’s standing by the mantle holding several envelopes in her hands. “I don’t know how many more holidays I have left in me. But I decided recently that I wanted one last hurrah with everyone that I love close by. It makes me exceptionally happy to see my family happy, and I want to spoil you all rotten and see the joy it brings you with my own eyes.” She smiles and hands the envelopes to her butler, and he passes them around the room. “So…what you’ll find in your hands are tickets for a Holiday Cruise. Ten days of all-expenses-paid luxury on the Caribbean.” Her eyes gleam and she claps her hands together in glee. It’s like she’s closer to being a schoolgirl than a ninety-five-year-old woman, and just seeing her so happy makes me smile. “We’re going to have the most wonderful time.”
“Thank you, Aunty Joan,” I say, the first to get up and hug her. “This is truly generous.”
“You’re so welcome,” she says, smiling brightly. “And you make sure you bring that dish of a man, Liam, too. There’s a ticket in there for him.” She winks. “I have a good feeling about him. He really cares for you.”
“You think so?”
She nods. “I know so. He’ll make you happy, petal. And when you’re old like me, happiness is all that matters.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, stepping away so my brothers and parents can thank Aunty Joan themselves. It’s an insanely generous gift, and I instantly feel bad for bemoaning it when I first found out about it.
For the first time in a very long time, I’m spending time with my family as a part of a couple instead of a thirty-six-year-old single woman they feel the need to fix. It’s a very different dynamic, and while it’s a dishonest one, it’s given me the chance to see things in a different light. And I’m actually enjoying myself for a change. But that’s largely to do with Nate. He’s proving himself to be the best boyfriend money can buy.
“Looking forward to the cruise?” he asks, moving my hair to the side before lazily trailing his fingers along the exposed skin at my neck. It sends delicious chills throughout my body, and I have to take a sip of my drink to hide my reaction to him, although I worry that the satin of my dress is showing off the way my nipples have puckered under his touch.Why didn’t I choose a thicker bra?
“I am.” I smile as I swallow the remnants of the bubbles in my mouth. “How about you?”
“I’m more excited about seeing our room for the night.” He smiles as his fingers trail down my spine.
“Oh? You’re tired, are you?”
“Incredibly.” Releasing a chuckle, he sets his champagne aside while I drain mine. The way he looks at me like I’m his next meal makes me nervous. I’m not sure how to react or how to feel, or even if this is real or just part of the show. Part of me wants to just let myself relax and enjoy the full breadth and depth of the boyfriend experience, and another part is screaming at me to slow down and keep my guard up. But as the night wears on, the champagne flows, and by the time we’re up in our room, I’m not caring about how real or fake this thing is anymore. All I care about is that I want it. I want him. And I don’t care if I’m paying for it.
“Here we are,” I say, stepping inside the spacious guest bedroom in the east wing of Aunty Joan’s home. I’ve frequented this room many times in the past, and she’s always kept it decorated just for me, so the apricot wallpaper and the romantic black and white images of Paris at night are all here for my taste. It’s part of what makes me love Aunty Joan so much. She genuinely cares about us all and will do anything to help make us feel loved in return.
“Beautiful,” he says, although he’s not talking about the room. His eyes are solely on me.
My heart hammers in my chest as I look up at him. “You’re just saying that,” I whisper, suddenly self-conscious now that we’re alone and the lie doesn’t have to exist anymore.
“I’m really not,” he replies, sliding a hand around the back of my head and drawing me in close, pressing his mouth to mine. He keeps it quite still at first, our lips wrapped around each other’s but caught in a freeze-frame as he inhales, and I react with a rigid body and a warring mind.
Can I really do this?
I feel frozen in that lip lock for an age, but in reality, it’s probably a split second where I run the gamut of shock, fear, reasoning, and desire. It’s when I reach that final point where I give in, my hands moving into his light brown hair, pulling it free from the elastic that kept it neat and bound all day. I take fistfuls of it and pull those luscious lips against mine as I open my mouth and let him in.
