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“What about her? Is she okay? Do we need to rescue her?”
I motion to the table where she’s sitting with the gossip gals. The elderly ladies are grinning at her as she regales them with a story.
“She’s going to be hopped up on sugar and not able to sleep tonight. Putting her to bed is going to be an adventure of the not fun variety.”
Damon toys with the ends of my hair. “Good thing we don’t have to put her to bed then.”
“What do you mean? Of course, we do. Who else would put her to bed if we didn’t? Wild wolves?”
“Sage. She’s having a sleepover with her tonight.”
I scowl. “No one told me.”
And why does my heart feel like it’s being cut out of my body? It’s no big deal. I’m not Skye’s mom. Damon can make decisions about her well-being without me. It’s his right as her father.
None of those reasons make me feel any better.
Dang it. I want to be Skye’s mom. I don’t merely love her dad. I love her. I want her to be mine. I want to watch her grow into the amazing woman I know she’s going to be.
Damon tugs on my hair and I tear my gaze away from his daughter. “Which means we have the house to ourselves tonight.”
I gulp as heat and want flares to life in my body. I want to spend as many nights as I can wrapped up in the arms of the man I love. Before he comes to his senses and realizes I don’t deserve him.
But I can’t. If I do, I won’t recover when we end. I have a feeling Damon leaving me will feel worse than my dad dying. I’ll lose his family. The semi-acceptance from the town. I’ll lose everything. I can’t risk it.
“We agreed. No more sex.”
He chuckles. “You decreed. I didn’t agree.”
“No more sex, Damon.” I try to sound stern but I don’t think I manage to pull it off.
His gaze focuses on my lips. “Think about it, Angel. Think about it.”
Several hours later, I’m still thinking about it. The possibility of sex with Damon pushes all other thoughts aside and crowds my brain. I barely noticed the wedding speeches or the cutting of the cake. The cold as we traveled outside from the brewery to the bar couldn’t cut through the heat emitting from my skin.
I’m a mess of hormones. I’m a live wire. One touch will set me off.
“It’s time for the bouquet toss.”
At Mrs. West’s announcement, I do a U-turn and march toward the restrooms. I am not getting involved in the bouquet toss. The last time I did there was a little mishap.
And by little mishap I mean I tried to steal the bouquet. But I am not that woman anymore. No more knocking down bridesmaids to steal the bouquet.
Damon snags my hand before I can enter the women’s restroom.
“I’m not catching the bouquet, Damon. And you can’t make me.”
“That’s a change,” someone mutters. My face warms in response, but I ignore it. I only have myself to blame for her snippy remark.
Damon drags me into the supply room.
“I don’t care about the stupid bouquet toss,” he growls. “I care about this.”
And then his mouth is on mine. I should protest. I shouldn’t let this happen again. But then his taste hits me. He tastes of chocolate cake, coffee, and man. And, suddenly, protest is the furthest thing from my mind.
The only thing I can think of is how good it feels to be kissed by this man. To be worshipped by this man. I moan and he slips his tongue into my mouth.
Our tongues battle, our teeth clash, and my panties grow damp. He presses his hard cock against my stomach and I hitch my leg around his hip. I want to feel his length pushing against other parts of me.
