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“I hate you. Fuck me.”
I hear his sharp intake of breath and know I’ve got him.
He pulls back, sitting up and letting go of my hands. “Come herenow.”
His erection is solid against his stomach, and his chest caves with deep, ragged breaths. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.
I crawl over to him and straddle his legs.
“Casper,” I say, curling my hands around his shoulders. “I hate you.”
His mouth parts, and he roughly grips a fistful of my hair. “I hate you, too,” he growls, yanking me down on his erection.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
When I walk into the ballroom, I’m a lot calmer than I was forty-five minutes ago. Leaving the bedroom was difficult because he lost control, and when he gets like that, he’s determined to make me come over and over again.
I wanted to let him—to sink beneath those covers and fuck him until neither of us could breathe—but I’ve worked so hard on this event, and I can’t afford to miss a second of it.
Casper holds onto my hand, having not stopped touching me since we had sex, and pulls me towards his parents.
The room looks incredible. Gold, twinkling lights and red satin drapes hang from solid wooden rafters above us. Red velvet curtains dress the exposed brick walls that Casper said he wanted to pin me against when we arrived this afternoon.
There are tables set up in here, along with a bar. Food will be served in here and outside. In a giant traditional circus tent, there will be entertainment and another bar.
I have to admit, it looks absolutely stunning. Even better than I imagined.
Casper’s full of pride as he looks down at me with admiration, and I want to frame the moment. It’s no secret that we grew up very differently—he’s loaded and I’m not—but we can both be equally successful in our fields.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, his eyes dipping to my cleavage for the tenth time since I put on the elegant, gold, cowlneck dress.
“Backatcha.” It’s the understatement of the century. He’s a miracle wrapped up in a navy tux.
“This matters, Ainsley,” and I know he’s not talking about the event.
“I know,” I whisper.
He brushes a curl behind my ear. “You are my favourite person in the world.”
I’m about to return the sentiment because, my God, do I feel the same, when Flora calls us.
“There you are,” she says, floating towards us wearing a full-length red gown and a smile. We still have ten minutes before the guests will arrive, but I was hoping to be down here before his parents.
“Sorry, I was getting ready,” I say.
Casper squeezes my hand at the tiny white lie. I’m hardly going to tell his mum that I was just clawing her son’s back while I bounced around on his lap, am I?
“You look stunning, darling,” she replies.
“Thank you. So do you. Are you happy with everything so far?”
She places her hand over her heart, eyes darting between me and Casper in a way that creates a little panic.
Casper clears his throat, sensing whatever his mum is planning in her mind—our wedding would be my guess. That’s happening for sure… one day in the future.
Flora, now trying to conceal that smile, says, “I’m thrilled with everything. It really is perfect, but I can see the worry in your eyes so let’s get you a glass of champagne. There’s nothing left to do and I want you to enjoy tonight, too.”
Casper’s very smug next to me, but it’s not like he tried offering me alcohol. People keep telling me to relax but Flora is the first one to suggest that I get drunk.
