Page 19 of The Fake Husband
Derek's face transitions from angry red to an alarming shade of purple. Alice's mouth hangs open, as if she can't believe what I just said.
It's absolutely beautiful.
River has been letting me handle this, but now his hand on my hip tightens fractionally. His body shifts slightly, angling more toward Derek and Alice.
Alice tugs at Derek's arm. "We should go greet other guests."
I reach out, touching Alice's arm with the same fake-friendly gesture she used on me earlier. "See you at work, Alice! You too, Derek."
I wave and smile, cheerful as a summer camp counselor.
Derek and Alice stand frozen for two solid seconds. Their smiles have evaporated completely. Other guests are glancing over now, sensing the shift in energy. Derek grabs Alice's hand and practically drags her toward the opposite side of the terrace.
Watching them retreat, satisfaction blooms warm in my chest. Not just warm—hot. Molten. Derek's purple face. Alice's cracked veneer. Both of them realizing I'm not the pathetic ex they expected to see.
I moved on. I moved up. And they just lost a game they didn't know they were playing.
Turning to River, I half-expect a lecture. "That was too much," or "You should've let it go," or some other reasonable adult response.
What do I get instead?
His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. His jaw is tight, the muscle there jumping. His breath comes slightly faster than normal. That look men get when they're right on the edge, when they're barely keeping themselves in check.
Proud. Hungry. Possessive.
All three at once.
"That was the hottest thing I've ever witnessed in my life."
I swallow past the lump in my throat. "Yeah?"
"I'm so fucking hot for you right now." His eyes rake over me, from my face down to my feet and back up again. "I'm so hard I might embarrass myself walking back to our room."
Heat floods through me, making my core clench, and my thighs press together. My skin is too tight, every nerve ending hyperaware.
The reception fades around us. Other guests might as well be furniture.
All I can see is River. The way he's looking at me. The promise in his dark eyes.
He takes my drink and sets it on a nearby table with his, hand finding mine. "We're leaving."
"What about?—"
"We're done here, Nad."
Before we go anywhere, his hand cradles my jaw and tilts my face up. We're so close I can see the day's worth of stubble along his chin and jaw.
His mouth crashes into mine. Demanding. Possessive. Tongue sliding into my mouth, tasting me, claiming me.
A sound escapes me—embarrassingly needy—and I don't even care because his other hand grips my waist, hauling me flush against him until I can feel exactly how much he meant about being hard.
Jesus. More than half.
Way more than half.
When he pulls back, we're both breathing like we just ran a marathon. River smirks. "We're leaving. Come on."
Glancing back once, I see Derek and Alice watching us leave. Both looking like they swallowed glass. Derek's jaw tight. Alice clutching his arm.
