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I wave my hand. “Well, there was one. But it wasn’t real.”
“Why?”
“Because my brother was in love with her.”
I don’t look away. I want to see her reaction, to absorb the flinch that comes along with my brother being in love with someone else.
She doesn’t flinch, though. Her brow furrows, and she slowly tips her head to the side.
“You dated a girl your brother was in love with?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
I lift one shoulder. “To win a bet. You know me, Sunny. Everything’s a competition.”
And this one, this battle between us, is the greatest competition of all.
24
AURORA
Our conversation ends when we arrive at our destination. Which seems to be a red-carpet event, judging by the, well, red carpet.
“One more thing,” Knox adds, leaning over me and pulling my door closed.
I had barely got it open, letting in the clamoring sounds of photographers behind partitions. Just as quickly, we’re back in our silent bubble. His broad shoulders block the view of the driver, who hops out anyway. Rush of noise, then quiet.
He reveals a slender thing from his pocket. It fits in the palm of his hand, and he shamelessly pushes my dress up.
I swat at him, gasping.
“Get away from me,” I snap.
“Just a little something to manage you.” He winks. “It’s either this or I flip you over my knee and spank your ass raw so sitting becomes the management.”
I glare at him. Spanking sounds… intriguing. My stomach does a somersault at the thought. But as much as I want to call him out on that, I also have no intention of letting him near my ass.
So I drop my hands, and he slips the object into my panties.
It brushes my still-sensitive clit. I inhale sharply and dig my nails into my palms. It seems to fit perfectly in place, and he carefully readjusts it. He leaves me to yank down my dress just as the driver pulls open my door.
Knox hops out of the other side. Now his tux makes sense. My dress feels much too short, though. He circles around and offers his hand, the driver standing back to allow him the space to do it.
I swallow. His hand lingers in the air, and I swing my legs out together. Then take his cool, dry hand, and allow him to help guide me up on the heels.
Cameras flash in our faces.
He adjusts our arms smoothly, looping my hand around his arm. He pats my fingers, touching the ring on my finger.
The ring I forgot I was wearing.
It takes me a moment to realize that he’s wearing his, too.
My heart does this funny flutter. And then we’re moving. I know what he wants and I smile brilliantly at his side, my charm only adequate compared to his. We go up the steps and into the huge foyer, and it’s only when we’re inside do I register that it’s a museum.
“Charity gala,” he finally says. “Raising awareness for sports-related injuries in youth. The importance of proper head protection, et cetera.”
