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Hawkins lets out a boisterous laugh. “Just the young being young! I’m just happy the internet didn’t exist back then.” He winks my way as he speaks and I hold in a full body cringe.
Something about him feels slimy but I can’t place what. Well, other than he’s a politician who clearly knows who Connor is andwhathe does. I’m sure he’s as squeaky clean as every other politician in this city. Which is not at all.
I stopped believing that men in power were anything but evil the moment I heard the door lock in my father’s office all those years ago.
And Connor is no exception.
But at least, if not busy impressing the elite of Noxport, he wears his sins like badges. They define him. He is unapologetically himself. And maybe that’s what attracted me to him originally. That and a faulty sense of self-preservation. I danced too close to his fire and got burned.
And now here we are.
“So…” he says, the mayor’s eyes focusing back on Connor. “Tell me how you two met.”
As if on cue, his hand slides over my thigh and my spine straightens. Myhusbandanswers for us, his voice steady and silky, “Us two?” His fingers slowly caresses the fabric covering my leg. I struggle not to push him away. He knows I can’t make sudden movements so I let him have his moment as I sit demurely still. His head turns to me and he pauses studying me as if drinking in the face of the woman he loves. He reaches over with his free hand, his finger tracing my jaw and I fight the instinctive flinch.
“It was love at first sight.” His voice smooth and downright enamored.
I’m suddenly dying of thirst. But I keep my expression calm, serene.Smitten.
I nod, and smile bashfully, the words catching in my throat. I reach for my champagne and take a sip, looking back to Connor and his dark, smoldering eyes.
“Never met a woman quite like Lenix.” He continues to gaze at me with such tenderness, it glues me to the spot. “Sometimes I need to pinch myself to believe that all of it is real. Thatshe’s real,” he says in awe.
The table fawns over his admission, obviously not picking up on the double meaning. I shift in my seat, nerves traveling up my body and cross my left leg onto my right. I immediately realize my mistake when his hand finds my naked leg, the slit in the dress uncovering my entire thigh to his covert ministrations.
Fuck.
My fingers curl around my fork, the sudden urge to stab his hand with it as strong as the little voice in my head nudging me to just let him continue. At least, it would make this drab dinner a little fun—or slightly thrilling. He continues to butter up the mayor and the conversation finally shifts to the people sitting to his right. Something about the upcoming mayoral elections.
I haven’t paid much attention since his fingers began traveling up my thigh, my skin ablaze under his touch. This is so fucking stupid. Absolutely idiotic. I haven’t let him touch me like this since we woke up in Vegas, married and hungover.
So why now?
Luckily, the table is draped in white linen, his hand and subsequently my lower body hidden underneath it. My brain goes blank as I uncross my legs, his fingers immediately finding the small opening to the center of my thighs.
Connor’s body is so relaxed, one tattooed hand still lazily playing with his glass, answering questions when prompted while the other is smoothly sliding up and up and up. I almost convince myself that I’m imagining all of it. My heart pumps faster as I reach for my flute again, if only to have something to hold. His knuckles graze my inner thigh and to my utter disgust I widen my legs just an inch.
I think I might have lost my mind.
Because this is Connor we’re talking about. My rational brain is mortified, but my body responds to his touch like a kindling flame.
Especially when I know there isn’t any lace separating his skin from mine. After a slow, torturous trail upwards, his thumb finds me wet under his touch.
His head turns the smallest amount towards me, his eyes slamming into mine from under his long lashes, one dark eyebrow raised. There’s a hint of surprise in his hooded gaze. I’m flustered by my body’s response, but somehow find a way to channel all of it into a smug look, unwilling to show him the crack under my armor.
His lips curl as he takes a slow sip of his drink. His thumb delicately strokes my pussy, dragging upwards to my clit. And oh, does it throb in desire.
But I don’t let myself enjoy it. I don’t let myself anticipate what he might do next. My body might be betraying me, but I refuse to submit to his touch. I may be playing the part of his loving wife but I still have agency and I will not surrender to his seductive allure.
My sanity barrels back into me and I fling his hand away, the attention turning to me as I do. I hide the sudden movement under the guise of standing up, clearing my throat and smoothing my dress before speaking. “Apologies, I just need to freshen up.”
I give the table a tight smile and look down to Connor. The same hand that was moments ago somewhere itshould nothave been, curls around my own, while he presses a kiss to my knuckles. He then traces the thumb over his lips, his gaze searing into me and I lick my own lips in response. “Hurry back,wife,” he whispers.
Chapter 21
Lenixhasn’tsaidaword since she climbed into the car and slammed the door with way too much force for a vintage Aston Martin. I cringed at the sound but didn’t comment. Too busy replaying that perfect tension filled moment where Lenix let me touch her unabashedly.
A similar tension winds between us now and I revel in it, my heart hammering to the beat of her quick breaths beside me. Her arms are tucked tightly over her chest, shoulders up to her neck as she stares out the front window, but I don’t think she’s staring at much at all.
