Page 117 of Just for the Cameras
His tongue runs over his teeth before he steps aside, making room for me to shut the door and lock up.
And I do just that, my hand shaky as I try to fit the key in the lock.
What I wouldn’t give to know exactly what he’s thinking at this moment.
Does he hate the dress?
Does he think I look ridiculous?
Is he dreading tonight?
Ashamed to have me on his arm?
All the worst-case scenarios are running through my head as I struggle to get the key in the lock. I’m seconds from just throwing the key down the hall and calling it quits when he moves in behind me, his chest to my bare back, and smooths his hand over mine, helping me with the key. I gulp as he assists in twisting the lock, then pulls the key out. He takes my clutch from my hand and deposits the key inside before closing it and holding it, as if it’s his own. Then he takes my hand in his and guides me down the hallway, my mouth slightly agape in shock while I trail him out the front door to…not his truck.
I pause and ask, “What’s that?”
“Gretchen didn’t want me pulling up to the event in my truck, so she made me rent this.”
A black Range Rover is parked on the street, making my lip curl up.
“That is so not you.”
“Tell me about it,” he mutters. After moving to the passenger side of the SUV, he opens the door and helps me inside. He doesn’t buckle me in this time, but then again, I think it’s because he can’t really fit inside without bumping around. The man is a giant. But he waits for me to buckle up before handing me my clutch and shutting my door.
When he gets in on his side of the car, he slides in the best that he can and adjusts to make the most of the space.
I smirk, holding back my chuckle because he looks so freaking uncomfortable.
He glances in my direction. “Don’t fucking say a thing.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“I could see it all over your face.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” I say, chuckling now.
“Sure,” he answers with an eye roll, then pulls out onto the road.
He heads down the street, his eyes fixed on the road in front of us as the faint sound of the Lumineers plays in the background. His bodyseems to relax, and then, to my utter surprise, his hand moves over the console and smooths over my leg.
A twinge of shock makes a bolt of lust fly up my leg as I stare down at his massive hand curving around the shape of my leg, the telltale sign of being claimed.
But is he claiming me?
No, he can’t be.
He’s just…he’s practicing. That’s what it is. He’s practicing because it has to be like this when we’re together now. More affection.
So because it’s a moment I can’t let pass me by, I take my phone from my clutch and snap a picture of his hand on my thigh.
Something I can post a little later, once everything is announced.
Until then, the picture will just burn a hole in my phone, and his hand will burn a lustful hole in my soul. It has been alongtime since I had sex, and most days, I don’t really think about it.
But Graydon’s hand on my leg? Yep. Now I’m thinking about it.Dear God.
CHAPTER 23
