“If I must,” I said, eyes aflutter, hand to chest. No one was buying it. I knew they wanted me to feel comfortable, be part of everything that their life was, but they also knew I was an independent woman who didn’t need or want handouts. This banter was the way we walked the line.
Liam disappeared to the bar, I suspected for a round of Nostrovia shots, and the conversation turned to Zooey. I watched across the space as his fingers rested on the edge of the bar. I felt like his handprints were all over me.
The tingle of those fingers tracing my neck still lingered. My neck was made for those hands. How had I not realized before? What was I saying? And why did the idea of the craziness of it bring a dirty smile to my face?
Scarlett saw the smile and her brow furrowed. Quickly, she did her best to smooth it out, but she was shit at covering her emotions. I got it—this could be messy.
“We’ll drop Zooey at your place before we leave for the plane tomorrow.”
I loved how Scarlett said “the plane” though it was a private jet, a PJ. I teased her, because she was too humble to say it any other way.
“No problem. Four-thirty. I got it. Make sure she has Kitty and plenty of room in her stomach because we’re going to be baking ba-rownies.” I over emphasized the b and realized just how drunk I was. I put my hand out to grab onto the cocktail table. It was as if the second I paid heed to the level of drunkenness, it got the memo and exploded through my body. Whoa.
“Y’all right there, sailor?” Scarlett said.
Right on cue, Liam approached with a tray of four shots and the overdose of pheromones that had brought me to this state. But I certainly wasn’t going to admit that. You’d think Scarlett would have learned after all these years.
“Perfectly fine,” I said, plucking one of the cut crystal glasses from the tray, unbalancing it enough that Liam had to discreetly place a second hand at the rim.
I handed one to Mrs. and then Mr. Close, and then raised the last one for Liam, who lowered the tray to the table and accepted the glass, his fingers covering mine for a second of white-hot sensation. He didn’t look my way, but the cocky grin on his face said he was enjoying this thing between us way too much. And as brilliant as he looked wearing it, I wouldn’t think that sentiment was lost on anyone. This angered me more than I could explain.
And yet, when I scanned the happy couple in the moment, neither seemed to notice as they raised their glasses to Liam and mine. Maybe it was the inebriation that made me so sensitive to his expression. Maybe I’d simply imagined it. Maybe you wanted it.
“Nostrovia!” we yelled. The stragglers echoed the chant. It had been a fun, unforgettable part of the evening. We clinked, tossed back the fiery concoction, then bashed the glasses on the floor. The beautiful, shimmering shards held our attention. God, there was such a rush in this kind of decadent destruction. My hand jerked as a shard had propelled itself into it like a dagger.
“You’re bleeding,” Liam said, bringing my index finger to his face. I couldn’t take my eyes off the way his attention focused on me so wholly, like a physical thing I could pick up and admire. What was that? I actually swooned. There was no other way to describe the way my chest had gone fluttery and my knees weak upon trembling legs.
Liam felt around the crimson bloom on my fingertip until he located the sharp point of a sliver of glass. He pinched his fingers around it and pulled quickly and efficiently, provoking a feeling of blessed release. He pressed a cloth napkin from the tray to my finger where the blood had blossomed.
“Your knight in shining armor,” Lachlan said.
“You know me,” Liam said.
The groom nodded, a brow quirked. “I certainly do.” He flicked his gaze at me, then back to Liam. The message wasn’t mean, but it was clear. Stay away from my wife’s sister.
Impressively, Liam bore the comment without argument. It said something that he accepted the reality of who he was. I respected that.
“Wow,” Scarlett said with a huge exhale, effectively changing the topic and also making it clear how tired she was. It had been a huge, glorious day. But the adrenaline had clearly been depleted.
Lachlan pulled her in even closer, running his nose through her long, loose waves of raven hair. My heart soared for my sister’s happily ever after. I couldn’t help the grin that stretched across my lips.
“You have a dimple when you do that,” Liam said, pointing to my right cheek.
Lachlan and Scarlett clocked the exchange, neither looking impressed.
“Shall we pack you up?” I said, my eyes wide and doing their damnedest to stay on my sister rather than Liam. I held my smile tightly, certainly no dimple on display.
“I can’t believe I’m the kind of person who says this, but we have people for that. They’ve already done it.” Scarlett emphasized with open palms and wobbled a bit. I could see that she, too, had probably had one too many Nostrovias.
“It’s true. We are those people,” Lachlan said. “God, I hate those people.”
Scarlett turned to him.
“But not you,” he said. “You’re different. I love you.”
He picked up her wrist where her Cartier Forever bracelet was fixed. He lifted it to his lips and kissed her there. Her lids fluttered with a reaction that was unmistakable.
“Time for us to get home,” he said, his eyes laser-focused on my sister. Their love was a physical thing. It was impossible for both me and Liam not to be affected. Surely that’s all that was going on here. Everyone knew how emotional weddings were.
The four of us walked to the circular drive out front, and after kisses and hugs, and yet another round of congratulations, Liam and I watched Rick drive the newlyweds away.
We were alone out front of the picture-perfect white timber building at the front of the estate’s cluster of structures, the sky a giant blanket of black and glittering stars above us. Everything had the feeling of vastness, the kind you couldn’t wrap your mind around.
As we waved them off, the car disappeared under the treetops of the windy road into that enormity. A tear slipped down my cheek. Quick as I could, I swiped at it. But I’d been too slow. Liam got there first. The feel of his finger brushing across my cheek was pure bliss. My eyes closed in pleasure, and before I knew it, there was the softness of his lips again.
We picked up right where we left off, his tongue deep and searching, my mouth yielding to his, taking all he gave. This set him hungry for more, and soon his arms were around me, pressing our bodies together for a writhing, shuddering kiss that we both knew was racing toward more.
God, his taut chest was heavenly, a one-of-a-kind delicacy I couldn’t resist. My palms explored, and the pleasure I found in the ridges and ripples sent my hands south at a rate I couldn’t account for. When I felt the V of his torso, I gasped.
The depth of my reaction jolted me into reality. I stepped back. “We shouldn’t,” I said.
“No, we probably shouldn’t,” he replied. But that shit-eating grin was plastered on his face. I couldn’t help but mirror it.
He reached for my dimple. My head tipped back in ecstasy. He traced that finger to my lips, over the bow and down to the pillow of my lower lip. I opened and sucked his finger, letting my tongue lap at it in the way I wanted to lap at another part of him—one I could see standing at attention.