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“I’m surprised you’re still sitting with me to be honest.” My brother isn’t known for not making the most of a wedding. He may hate them as much as I do, but he never fails to use them to his advantage when it comes to sex.
He drains his glass of whiskey and stands, eyes still on the blonde at the next table. His interest is reciprocated. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll see you next weekend.”
I frown. “Next weekend?”
“Yeah, family dinner, Sunday.”
I groan. “Oh, God. Really? That’s a thing again?”
“I’m surprised Mom hasn’t already made it clear that she expects you every Sunday night.”
I haven’t really given her a chance to do so. Since I arrived back in New York, I’ve holed up at my bestie’s Brooklyn Heights condo and done everything in my power to avoid my mother. I love her, but she’s intent on harassing me about getting married, and that is something I have zero interest in.
“The only thing she’s made clear is how much she still thinks Benjamin and I are the perfect couple.” I roll my eyes. “Honestly, she’s like a broken record over this, messaging me constantly about him.” I shoo him. “Go. That blonde can’t keep her eyes off you.”
He gives me a knowing look. “I’ll see you next Sunday.”
“Ugh,” I grumble to myself as I watch him leave.
I sip some more wine as I glance around the ballroom.
It has to be said that not much changes in Manhattan. I may not keep up with the gossip, but the people never change. My mother and Poppy love it here, but I don’t do well with the shallow. The fake. The emptiness.
And the men.
Don’t get me started on the men of New York.
I’ve dated a lot of them. And I was engaged to one for six months after a two-year relationship.
They’re nothing but suits, money, and power.
And arrogance.
God, the fucking arrogance of them blows my mind.
“Charlize.”
I turn to my left to find Owen looking down at me with a smile. “Owen.” I jerk in my seat, uncrossing my legs and knocking the table with my knee. It sends my drink flying, spilling wine all over my dress and legs. “Shit. Jesus.”
Honestly, my lips should be taped together while out in public.
I stand. At the same time, Owen steps forward and reaches toward the table. All we manage to achieve is a collision that involves his hand almost groping my breast, my hand almost groping his dick, and then, our lips almost smooshed together.
His hands settle on my hips, steadying me. His eyes meet mine, a smile filling them. “I imagine being your friend would never get boring.”
I place my hands to his abs. It’s unintentional; they move of their own accord. I don’t blame them. He has great abs. I mean, I haven’t seen them, but feeling them now…. These are the abs of a man who dedicates good time to them.
And that smile he’s giving me? Along with the way his eyes crinkle? He means what he just said in the very best way.
I return his smile. “Really, you have no idea. You should try it.” Someone absolutely needs to tape my mouth now. Stat. Before I start talking about swimming naked with him. Because that’s where my mind has already gone. Naked swimming with Owen.
If I thought his smile of a moment ago was something of great beauty, I had no idea what he’s capable of. Now, he adds sexy to the mix, and I’m unsure if I’ll be able to keep all my thoughts to myself much longer.
“I’m willing if you are.”
Why does it suddenly feel like my heart has decided to take part in a 100m sprint? It’s beating fast enough to win.
When I don’t respond to what he said—because my thoughts and heart are far too tangled for me to form words that make any sense—Owen glances down at my dress. “I suspect this dress is about to go the way of the red dress. Have you got a third one?” He meets my eyes again. “If not, my shirt is all yours.”
