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“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said, smirking.
I glared, and when I turned my head back towards the altar, Bryson was looking at me funny. I smiled at him, hoping it told him I was fine and not that I wanted to smack his infuriating best man. “You’re wrong,” I said in what I’d hoped was a calmer tone.
“You lie,” he said without hesitation. “I bet if I put my hand up your skirt, I’d be right too, hmm?”
I took a deep breath, trying to stop my hands from shaking. “Fuck you, Drake,” I said quietly.
“If you’re offering.”
Why did my body react to the way his voice got huskier when he said it? I groaned. The end of the aisle couldn’t come quickly enough. I glared again, huffing before I looked up and locked eyes with Ed. Then I looked behind me at Mackenzie’s cousin, Gracie, and they were all looking at us funny.
“Wonderful,” I groaned, stepping to the side and taking my place to prepare to fix Mackenzie’s imaginary train.
When it came time to walk back down the aisle, I grabbed Drake’s arm. He opened his mouth, and when his lips pulled into a small smirk, I put up my hand to stop him. “I don’t want to hear it.”
He didn’t argue, just laughed and flexed the muscles in his arm. He watched from the corner of his eye when I swallowed. He was doing it on purpose. “Whatever you say.”
***
It was too much to think that he would keep his comments to himself at dinner. I should’ve known better, and I should’ve refused to be seated between Dallas and Drake. The first glass of wine went fast, but the second glass went faster. By the time I was pouring the third, I was starting to care less about my annoyances with the best man.
“So seriously, man, just hear me out,” Dallas said, starting in on his investment pitch to Drake for the third time.
I groaned dramatically, dropping my head back. “Oh my god, Dallas. He doesn’t care!”
“Of course he does.” He looked at me like I had said something ridiculous. “Who doesn’t want to hear about a chance to make more money?” Then he turned back to Drake, and I closed my eyes, taking a long pull from my glass.
I choked at Drake’s hand on my thigh, and the wine I coughed up burned my throat. Quickly, I pulled my leg back and glared at him. He smirked, and his eyes darted briefly to me before he settled them back on Dallas.
“I’m telling you, I just don’t see any way I come out on top with this deal.” Drake shrugged.
Dallas laughed from his belly as if he had told a hilarious story. “Okay, let me explain.”
When he started again from the top, explaining how Drake could turn a minimal investment into something he could supposedly never spend in a lifetime, I zoned out. My leg dropped to the side, and when my knee bumped Drake’s, his lip twitched but he didn’t pull back. I knew I should—I should never even consider what would happen with his hand on my thigh. He was my brother’s best friend, but when he started to draw small circles on my skin, my breath hitched.
I looked at Dallas, realizing he was too interested in pitching a deal Drake was never going to accept to realize his audience was sliding my skirt up my legs. I didn’t stop him, though, even when his fingers made their way under the fabric. It felt like I held my breath for too long waiting for his fingers to find their way to my pussy, and when they did, I gasped.
He chuckled, tracing his fingers over my slit through the thin cotton fabric. My hands shook when I reached for the wine in front of me, taking a desperate gulp. I was more careful when I swallowed so I wouldn’t choke again.
Dallas continued to talk, even as my panties grew damp. When they dropped the food off in front of us, my mouth dried out. There was no way I was going to be able to eat when my stomach was twisting in knots and my entire body was on fire.
Drake picked up his fork with one hand, using his other to slide the fabric separating him from my pussy to the side. I tried to maintain my composure, mirroring his action and picking up my own fork. The pile of pasta on my plate looked impossible to eat, but when I went to set my fork back down, Ed met my eye. If I didn’t eat, he was going to know something was up.
Maybe he did already.
I stuck my fork in the middle of the pile of noodles and twisted it just as Drake slipped his finger past my lips, gathering my arousal and spreading it. He made small circles around my clit when I lifted the fork to my lips, and I whimpered, dropping the pasta back on the plate. When Ed looked at me again, he wrinkled his brow.
He definitely knew.
“Oh, hot,” I said, blowing on the forkful of food in hopes it was believable. It probably was until I whimpered again.
When it felt like I was going to come, panic coursed through me. I couldn’t come in front of all of these people, especially not next to Dallas and at the same table as my brother and best friend. Just before I could reach that point, Drake pulled his finger back.
My mouth dropped open when he lifted his hand above the table, reaching for his glass and taking a slow, measured sip. Then he used the same hand to wipe the drop of wine from the corner of his lips before he put it back in my lap.
I gasped when his fingers quickly found their way back to my clit. It didn’t take long before he had my legs shaking. I tried to hold them still, digging my heels into the ground as I did. Nothing worked. Before I could pretend to have more to eat, I was biting down on the inside of my lip to stifle a moan. Then he stopped again, and I huffed.
“Are you okay?” Ed asked from across the table, eyeing me suspiciously.
