by Olivia Hayle
“It’s time for dinner soon,” he says. “We’re seated at the same table, but I’m not sure if we’re next to each other.”
“I can handle it.” He looks pained, and I laugh. “Can you?”
“I’m not sure. I might have to rearrange the seating chart.”
“Henry, no,” I laugh, and he bends to kiss me again, without regard for anyone who’s watching.
“Fine. I’ll grin and bear it, I suppose.”
The dinner is gorgeous. Hayden and Lily return, both flushed, having taken their wedding pictures. I’m seated at the family table, with Rhys to my right and Jamie to my left. Oddly enough for someone who’s a plus-one, I feel completely at home.
“Thanks for the breakfast this morning,” Rhys tells me. “It was an impressive spread.”
“Oh, you’re welcome. It was nothing.”
“No, it was effort. Plus,” he adds, eyebrows drawing closer together, “Henry would kick my ass if I didn’t give you your dues.”
I laugh. “I doubt that.”
“I don’t.”
“Did you fight a lot growing up?”
“No. Well, yes. But not terribly. Parker and Lily, though, they liked to get into it.”
“Really?” I look over at where Parker is sitting, looking like an angelic Abercrombie model, with his sun-bleached hair and square jaw.
“Oh yes. Close in age and both too stubborn for their own good.”
I think of Henry’s determination, and the fire in Rhys’s eyes. “I’d say you’re all stubborn.”
His lips twitch. “Yes, I suppose we are. It’s a family vice.”
“And a strength.”
He raises his glass to mine. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but the way you stood up to Dad the other night at dinner was legendary. You’ll be written about in the history books, immortalized in statues, saved forever for posterity.”
I laugh again. “I was afraid I’d be convicted as a war criminal. Does your dad hate me?”
“Hate you? He loves nothing more than someone who can stand up to him, if that someone isn’t related to him. No, don’t worry about that. And he knows that he’d lose Henry if he ever said a bad word to you about it.”
I look at Henry, sitting further up the table. He looks over, as if sensing my gaze, and smiles. You okay? he mouths.
I wink at him, and his smile grows impossibly wider. He only looks away when he has to—drawn into conversation on his end.
“See?” Rhys says at my side. “No, you have nothing to fear from our father. Henry’s approval is all that matters.”
“He seems difficult, though, or so Henry has told me. Did you also have it out with him growing up?”
It’s meant as an innocent question, but Rhys’s face shutters. “Yes,” he says. “You could say that.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, I know you didn’t.”
I frown, realizing I know nearly nothing about him. I know about Lily’s art gallery and Parker’s business. But Rhys? What does he do?
I open my mouth to apologize again when someone clinks their spoon to a wineglass. This time it’s Jamie, her maid of honor, and I watch in amazement as Lily cries during her speech. It’s a funny one, too.
“I think she’ll cry seven times tonight,” Rhys tells me in an aside. “Henry wagered five, but I know her best.”
I smile. As an only child, their dynamic is marvelous to observe. “Where do I place my bets?”
“You’d bet against Henry?”
“Of course. He always needs to be knocked down a peg.”
Rhys laughs, and I notice several of his family members turn their heads to observe it. The grin he gives me is a bit wild. “Never leave my brother, please. You make family events so much more amusing.”
I can only smile in response to that.
We’re halfway through dinner when Henry pushes back his chair. The music hushes as he raises his glass, the picture of male elegance in his tux and thick hair.
“I think we can all agree that today has been a magical day,” he says, voices quieting down to listen. “Unfortunately, that will probably end now, because my brothers and I will attempt something that we’ve failed at many times before. Cooperation.”
Scattered laughter rings around the room, and I lean back in my chair, watching Henry perform. He looks down at Lily. “Lily, we all love you so much. I just hope you feel the same about us after we’ve butchered our speech.”
More laughter, and Lily’s eyes glitter as she watches Parker stand as well. To my left, Rhys pushes back his chair.
“We have known you your whole life, Lily. While I’ll admit that not all of us started out thrilled about the idea of having another sibling,” Henry glances meaningfully at Parker, who makes a show of looking contrite, “you quickly completed our family. You kept Parker on his toes and made Rhys experience emotion for the first time. For my sake, I was happy to finally have a student on the sailing boat who actually listened when I gave instructions.”
Lily laughs again, looking up at Henry, and in that moment my heart feels like it’s welling over for him.
Parker clears his throat. “For those of you who don’t know—though I can’t imagine that’s anyone here—Lily is very stubborn. It’s amazing that we made it out of the War of the Chores unscathed.” He regales the crowd with a story about their childhood that makes everyone laugh, about dog walking and bitter sibling rivalry.
Rhys’s voice is cold when he starts. “We’ve known Lily all of her life, but oddly enough we’ve also known Hayden for most of his. I’ll be the first to admit that we had our doubts at times. Being good enough for our little sister isn’t an easy task. I didn’t take it well when I found out.” He raises his glass to Hayden, and then to Lily. “I’d apologize for that, but I’m not actually sorry.”
Parker shakes his head. “But he’s happy now. Aren’t you, Rhys?”
The middle brother makes an elegant half-bow toward the bride and groom. “Ecstatic. It’s an odd thing to see two people you know so well getting married. Hayden, there is no one I’d rather see my sister with. Being your groomsman today was an honor,” he says, sincerity ringing in his voice. Then he clears his throat. “Also, Lily would have killed me if I said no.”
Good-natured laughter erupts from the guests again, and I watch as Hayden ducks his head.
Henry is smiling broadly, catching my eye. This time, he’s the one who winks. “Joining this family can be daunting. We’re a complicated, stubborn, cantankerous bunch, every last one of us.” He glances down at Hayden, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Thankfully, that means Hayden fit right in.”
Henry pauses for the laughter, Hayden and Lily’s included. From the way they’re both looking up at him… he’s playing his role so well. Responsible older brother and entertainer. Welcoming and teasing at the same time.
By the time the three of them are finished, they’ve practically brought down the house. I join in on the thunderous applause and watch as they take turns kissing Lily on the cheek. Henry bends to whisper something in Hayden’s ear, and the younger man nods in thanks, his eyes wide and sincere. Curiosity is burning inside me.
When dinner is over, staff clear away the tables and the music changes gear, drifting away from soft and romantic to upbeat. Henry finds me, his body strong and sure behind me, as we watch Hayden and Lily’s first dance.
“You were magnificent,” I tell him quietly. “The speech was fantastic.”
“Thanks,” he says, gently running his hands up my bare arms. I’m glad we’re in the shadows and everyone’s attention is locked on the newlyweds.
“You practiced it this morning?”
He presses a soft kiss to my temple. “Yes.”
“All this public display of affection…”
“You object?”
“Not at all.” I lean against his body and shiver when his arms close around my waist. “Will you dance with me later?
”
His arms tighten around my waist. “All night, if you’ll have me.”
“I will.”
25
Faye
Henry is a good dancer. He leads effortlessly, and we spin, each brush of his hand on my waist reminding me of his words earlier. Of what happened last night.
His eyes, darkening with each song, speak of the same emotion. The fire between us burns.
“This is nice,” I murmur, swaying against him. We’re pressed together so close it’s almost indecent.
He bends down to whisper in my ear. “Nice?”
“Yes,” I say, smiling at his outrage, “although I can think of something I’d rather do.”
Henry stills, his eyes closed, an almost pained expression on his face. “Damn it, Faye.”
I thread my fingers through his and pull him away from the dance floor. I’d been aiming for the bar, but his strides lengthen until he’s the one leading me. We’re heading for the door.
“We’re leaving?”
“Yes,” he says. “Or do you want to stay?”
The urgency in his eyes makes something inside me knot darkly, my hand burning in his grip. “Absolutely not.”
It’s a short walk to Lily’s cottage from the chapel, the tension between us rising with each step. “What we spoke about earlier…”
He releases my hand only long enough to unlock the front door. “About the point system being outdated?”
“Yes. And about you wanting me.”
“Very much.”
“And how it would complicate things…”
“We can uncomplicate them.”
I wind my hands around his neck and pull his head down to mine. There’s the faintest, sweetest pause before he touches his lips to mine, when anticipation hangs in the air.
And then he’s kissing me like he’s never done anything else, like we walk home hand in hand all the time, like our bodies already know each other intimately.
His hands flatten on my back and pull me tight against his body, until I feel the hardness of his thighs against mine and the planes of his chest against my breasts.
“This dress,” he murmurs, lips against my neck, “has been haunting me all day.”
“This? It’s modest!”
“Anything on you looks indecent.”
“Are we really doing this?” I pull back, our gazes meeting. Fire against fire, flame against flame. “I don’t want to be someone who sleeps with her boss.”
His hands flex around my waist. “I don’t want to be someone who sleeps with his assistant,” he says softly. “But I do want to sleep with you, very much.”
And it’s the look in his eyes that undoes me—the look that says he’ll make it worth my while, that there are pleasures untold waiting for me. That this is the start of something—not the end. I wrap my arms around his neck and find it hard to think about anything but his lips against mine.
“I’ll send out new CVs on Monday. We’ll figure it out,” I say in between kisses.
“I’ll look for placements in other firms,” he says. “Make a few calls.”
“God, you taste good.”
He grins against my lips and tugs at my zipper. I shimmy out of my dress, standing there in only my underwear. His hands immediately replace the dress—they run along my sides, my back, searing my skin with his touch.
The look in his eyes is nearly feverish. “Fuck, Faye…”
I kiss him, needing to be closer still, and tug at his bowtie. Henry is just as eager as me and we make a good team as we work on the buttons of his shirt. He slides it off and I’m finally running my hands over those wide shoulders. The trail of hair that disappears into his pants makes my mouth dry.
“So hot,” I breathe, unable to stop myself, and he laughs.
“At your service.” He grips my thighs and then I’m lifted up, like I weigh nothing at all, my legs wrapping around his waist of their own accord.
Henry’s arousal is thick through his pants. I grind, and he groans in response. “You’re too much.”
I’m placed on a hard surface. The dining-room table? A kitchen counter? I’m too far gone to notice.
Strong hands yank on the cups of my bra, the fragile lace giving way. His gaze devours me whole—there’s no shyness when he’s staring at me like that. Like we’ve been waiting forever for this. In a way, we have.
He ducks his head and takes one of my nipples in his mouth. I slide my hand into his hair, holding on as waves of arousal roll through me. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, releasing my nipple long enough to switch to the other.
His spare hand skates across my hip and lands between my legs, already spread for him. Thank God I chose the matching set of lingerie, I think, and then I don’t think at all, because he’s touching me through the fabric and my head falls back in pleasure.
He bites my nipple gently. “You’re already wet,” he says. “You’re so ready for me, aren’t you?”
And God help me, I didn’t know that dirty talk was my kind of thing, but hearing him say those things… It sends fresh need pounding through me. “Yes. I need you.”
He tugs at my panties and glances downwards. “I didn’t get a chance to see you last night.”
And then he does the unthinkable—he sinks to his knees before me and puts my legs across his shoulders.
“Henry…”
But he doesn’t hesitate. He just tugs my panties further to the side and looks up at me, his green eyes nearly black with desire. “So beautiful,” he says. “All of you.”
He leans forward, his tongue searingly hot against my skin. My fingers thread through his hair again and I lose myself entirely, to his skill, his tongue, to the forbidden connection between us.
It’s the hottest moment of my life.
He reaches up and pinches my nipple with one hand, while the other teases along with his mouth. He slips a finger inside me, my body clenched around him. He curses against my clit. “Fucking hell, Faye.”
“Don’t stop.”
The warm exhale of his laugh against my exposed skin makes me shiver, and then he’s right back there, and I explode.
It’s not gentle or pretty. It’s strong, starting from deep inside me, spreading through my body. Henry keeps his mouth on me the entire time, never letting me go, and when my orgasm is over, he looks up at me with an unmistakably masculine glint in his eyes.
“Now that’s a point game I’d play with you,” he says. “How many times can we make Faye come? I’d win, sweetheart.”
“I want my shot at scoring too.” I grip his shoulders and pull him to standing. He’s rock hard, groaning when I reach down and touch him through the fabric.
Henry grunts. “You have me so on edge, you’d score just like that, if you’d just keep going.”
I affect him just as much as he affects me, and I want to enjoy every tantalizing moment of this, reveling in my newfound power. I grip his belt loops and tug him toward the master bedroom. “We can’t have that, can we? I haven’t seen you.”
He scans my eyes, my lips, my breasts, still half-exposed. With a skilled hand, he reaches around and undoes the clasp of my bra. I toss it aside.
Henry curses again, and I smile, both in pleasure and in pride. I know I have curves. So many times in life they’ve been more of a hindrance than a blessing—maturing fast in school, being catcalled on the street, male employers only seeing a butt and boobs rather than an intelligent woman.
But here with Henry, my body is a joy to us both, and I want to share it with him. To enjoy him just the same. “You’re so fucking unreal,” he says.
I laugh and close the bedroom door behind us. “Who would’ve thought that Henry Marchand liked to talk filthy?”
“Filthy? Oh, if you think that’s dirty...” He pulls me close and tells me in excruciating detail what he likes about me, all the while running a finger along my soaked panties, igniting the fire below again. His words make my cheeks flame. Sweet, perfect pussy, he murmurs. Fu
ckable lips. Hips I want to grab a hold of. Legs that were made to be wrapped around me.
He leans back and grins, seeing the flush on my cheeks. “Dirty enough for you?”
My response is to reach for his belt. He helps me unbuckle it, pushing down his pants, and my mouth goes dry at the bulge. I stroke him through his boxers, and he groans, resting his forehead against mine. “Do you see how hard you make me?”
“Yes,” I say, and because I want to see if my words affect him as much as his affect me, I add a little something. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”
“Fuck.”
I push him on the bed and climb on top, pulling down the elastic of his boxers. “You didn’t think you were the only one with power here?”
“No,” he says. “I’ve always known you were the one actually in charge.”
I take him in my hand, hot and throbbing, and start to stroke. He groans in response, throbbing in my hand. “You have no idea how good that feels.”
I think of his mouth on me in the kitchen, the earth-shattering orgasm he gave me, and how I’m on fire when he touches me. “I think I have a pretty good idea,” I say, and bend down to wrap my lips around him.
His groan of pleasure feels like victory. I keep going, working up a rhythm, enjoying the taste of him. With Aiden, this was simply expected of me. With Henry, I want it. I want to be the one who brings him to the brink.
His hand slides through my hair. I twirl my tongue around the tip and he curses again. “I can’t, Faye. You have to stop. I’ve wanted you for too long, and it’ll be over too fast.”
I kiss my way up his stomach. “It’s not fair if the rules of the new game mean I have to stop before the finish line.”
He laughs and flips me over, kissing down my neck. “Life’s not fair,” he says. His arousal twitches against my stomach, trapped between our bodies. “Faye...”
“Yeah?”