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Only me.
I’m staring like an adolescent kid as I hasten up the walk to the front step.
I’m an awestruck fool, but tonight I’ll suck it up and be foolish if I must.
And I feel wonderfully stupid as I adjust my tuxedo to sink down on one knee, gathering her skirt carefully. I layer the trailing end over my arm like a bridal train.
Just a glimpse of her legs, slender and enticing.
My heart drums harder, teasing my dick to full attention, before I stand and make myself look away from her legs, instead meeting those tiger-gold eyes.
“There,” I say, careful not to lift her skirt too high, holding the fabric delicately. “I’ll try not to walk too quickly.”
“Thank you.” There’s something softer about her tonight. She looks at me through long lashes dusted in gold and smiles. “You look really nice in a tux.”
“I’m just another penguin now.” I grin at the irony. “Perhaps I would’ve been more striking if I’d mirrored Inky’s patterns.” I turn to escort her down the walk, where Merrick waits with the rear door open. “No one will even look at me, Elle. Not standing next to you.”
Shit, I can’t let myself look at her, but her airy gasp catches, perfectly timed with the erratic rhythm of my heart.
I’m so damned tangled up inside, and for once, I’m glad.
It’s hard to remember she isn’t truly mine tonight.
That this is all just a game.
Not when her warmth walks so close to me, and I want to feel her skin so badly.
Soon we’re at the car, shut up inside. The silence as Rick pulls into traffic is less awkward and more anticipatory.
Elle laughs, leaning against the door.
Her skirt fills the space between us, stretched along the seat to keep from dragging on the floor.
“We’re not looking at each other. Don’t tell me we got all dressed up in our fanciest clothes to ignore each other? Is that a rich people thing?”
It’s an August thing, I think, but I don’t say it.
I glance at her, quirking my lips. “You have a point. We’re acting like high school kids on their way to prom.”
“Ugh, we are.” She bounces to face me, drawing one leg up under her dress and leaning toward me. “Isn’t it fun, though? To feel all jittery again. To feel a little shy to look at each other just because we’re wearing such nice stuff.”
“I am not shy,” I grumble.
But damn her, she’s right.
It’s hard to look at her because every time I do my entire body pulses, and I don’t just mean my cock.
“You’re shy,” she teases, poking my cheek.
I turn toward her quickly and snap my teeth at her fingertip.
Elle jerks back, her eyes widening before she erupts into laughter. “God, you really are a wild animal!”
“I am no such thing.”
She parts her lips—but if she’s started to say something, she stops.
I don’t need to hear it.
