“Sorry,” I say, flashing a wink at everyone. “Relationship goals.”
There’s a polite chuckle from the group as I leave the table, following Mindy out the back door. We step onto the marble patio, and I take a second to admire the layout of the back garden. It’s beautiful, with a clear sky and the stars starting to come out in the purplish sky. It’s going to be amazing later.
Before I can comment on it, Mindy whirls on me, her voice barely contained. “What the hell are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” I ask innocently, trying not to laugh. Watching her upset like this is just glorious. “I’m being your fiancé.”
Mindy shakes her head, and I must admit she’s hot as hell when she’s pissed. Hotter than she normally is. “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what you’re doing.”
I shrug, purposely still trying to piss her off. “I thought what you said was boring. Come up with better stuff next time.”
“Boring? Come up with better stuff?” She grabs me by the shirt, getting right in my face. Her eyes are sparkling with anger, and again I think, damn, she’s hot when she’s pissed off. I so need to make her mine.
“Listen here, you muscled up, arrogant bastard!” Mindy hisses, shaking me and snapping me back to her words, “You’re supposed to be here doing what I say, not trying to humiliate me. That had better be the last time you slip up or I’m gonna introduce your balls to Grandma’s nutcracker collection, got it?”
She moves to turn away, but I grab her arm, pulling her in close. Lowering my lips until they’re a fraction of an inch from her ear, I grind my hips against hers, letting her feel my cock as it quickly stiffens. “What did you say you wanted to do to my balls?”
She’s flustered, her face going red. Her lips are parted, and in the light, I can see her eyes go darker. She’s torn. She wants me, but she also wants to slap me. I’d give it to her right here on this balcony, make the choice for her, but I know there are others inside. I’m not going to push my luck that much.
I move my lips until I’m just a fraction of an inch from hers. She mewls like a kitten almost, and I know she wants to close the gap, to kiss me again. Right when our lips are about to touch, I hear steps at the entry and Mary Jo comes out, her voice cutting through the tension between us.
“Everything all right out here?”
At the sound of her Mom, Mindy tears away from me, her breathing ragged.
“Yeah, Mom,” she says, not even able to look at me. “We’ll be there in a minute.”
Mary Jo gives us a questioning look, then shrugs. “Okay. But the duck’s on the table, and I’d like to get things started. You know how Grandma is with her pills. We can’t delay dinner too long.”
She goes inside, and Mindy turns back to me. “Don’t touch me unless I tell you to. I still haven’t forgotten that stunt you pulled back at the airport and that kiss you gave me.”
I chuckle, wiggling my eyebrows. “I’m sure you haven’t, Princess. I’ll admit, you kiss pretty damn good, too.”
My comment only riles her up more. She swirls and stomps back into the mansion, giving me another breathtaking view of her ass in that tight dress and those heels. In my mind, I can imagine pulling her dress up, bending her over, and seeing just how soft the skin of her ass really is.
I shake my head, adjusting my cock to make sure I don’t stick out too much when I go back inside. As I step back into the house, I can't keep the grin from coming across my face. Crossing the foyer back toward the dining room, I mutter softly, “You’d better get used to it, Princess.”
Mindy
“That meal was wonderful, Mary Jo,” Oliver says beside me, stretching his arm out along the back of the leather loveseat. “Thank you and John for your hospitality.”
I shift around, trying to minimize the chances of contact between me and Oliver, but the loveseat is too damn small and his arms are just too damn long. We’re sitting in the library after dinner, relaxing and sipping some after dinner drinks. Mom wanted everyone to have a little bit of family chill time after dinner, but I’m so ready to do anything but chill.
Sitting next to Oliver, I’m fuming on the inside while trying to look as calm as possible, smiling on the outside. But really, I’m still smarting over what he pulled at the table. Even after we came back, he would trip me up when he could, never directly saying I was wrong but subtly steering things. Every time Roxy or Grandma had a question, I could see Oliver putting his own little twist on things, just enough to make me look foolish if they remembered what I’d told them before.
I could literally grip his balls right now and squeeze. Just grab them right through his trousers and yank. But I hate that the very thought of touching his balls and his cock fills me with desire.
John gets up, stretching. “Well, I think I’m going to turn in. No offense to you all, but I have one more day of work to do before I officially go on vacation. Have a good evening.”
Mom smiles at Oliver, charmed to the bone by him. At least that’s gone well. “Well, Oliver, I’m so glad you could make it here to spend some time with us. I can see why Mindy is so taken by you.”
“My word, Mary Jo,” Grandma remarks with a cackle, “you keep on with much more of that and your nose is going to turn brown.”
Mom blushes, and I understand what Grandma means. Mom can’t seem to stop praising him.
Roxy lets out a snort and a giggle. “I still want to see if this Tony is as bad as Oliver makes him out to be.”
If he’s half the cocky bastard his brother is, I think to myself, you’re better off hanging out with the gay guys at Trixie’s.
Ivy Jo waves a hand. “I’m just so proud that Mindy has found her a nice handsome man to treat her right. And he has money too.” Grandma beams at me for a moment before asking. “Should I be planning for great-grandbabies anytime soon?”
My heart skips a beat. Babies? Is she kidding? “Uh, Grandma—”
Oliver chuckles, grabbing me around the shoulder and squeezing me close. “Maybe not soon, but we sure have been practicing, haven’t we, Princess?”
He winks at me, and I can’t help it. I bite my lip at the idea of ‘practicing’ with him. But still . . . I could just kill him.
It’s hard not to scowl, but instead I just grin. “Uh, honey,” I say, gesturing at Roxy and Layla, “not in front of the children.”
Roxy sticks out her tongue, but I’m quick to change the subject. “So Mom, what about the wedding—”
“Oh no, Mindy Price, I’m serious,” Grandma persists. “When’s it happening? I’m not getting any younger, you know, and not everyone gets to be a great-grandmother.” She looks at her other two granddaughters. “Unless one of you two wants to give me one first.”
Roxy grabs her sides. “Oh no, Granny Goose,” Roxy says in between holding in laughter, “don’t go putting designs on this uterus. I don’t need that kind of pressure on me, not when I just barely climbed out of the womb. Why, I’m perfectly innocent!”
“I seriously doubt that,” I mutter under my breath, and Oliver chuckles. I’m annoyed with him, but I can’t help but be charmed by his handsome smile.
Roxy shakes her head. “Besides, I still have a lot to do before I have a baby. Queen Bey might be able to have a couple of kids, but she’s already the queen. I’ve got a way to go yet.”
“A baby’s the last thing Roxy needs. She needs to get a real job first, at least,” my mom says.
“I resent that. What’s wrong with singing?” Roxy complains.
Mom frowns. “I think it’s sweet and all that you like to sing, but baby, the odds of ever actually making it big are slim.”
“Tell that to the people down at Trixie’s,” Roxy rebuts, sounding hurt. “They love my voice.”
“I think it’s admirable that you have the guts to try and find your own way,” Oliver says, and I hear something in his voice that I haven’t heard before. He sounds legitimate, like it’s not for show. He looks directly at Roxy as he talk
s, the rest of us forgotten. “I think you should keep going for it. Don’t get roped into a job, a life you don’t want, just to fulfill someone else’s idea of what you should do. Trust me on that one.”
Oliver seems to have silenced everyone, but Grandma finally speaks up. “Let’s just leave the poor girl alone. She’s young and has more than enough time to figure everything out.”
“Thank you,” Roxy says with relief. “Now can we please get back to the subject at hand? Babies—when are y’all gonna have babies?” Roxy says, turning to me. Oh, I could kill her. I think I can. The law might be on my side. I’m temporarily insane. “Cause y’all look like you’d make a litter of beautiful ones.”
“We’re waiting until after we’re married,” I say. I give Oliver a meaningful glance. “We want to do things right and all.”
I figure that as soon as we’re gone from here, I’ll call Mom and tell her that Oliver and I had some issues and broke off our engagement. I’m sure it will upset them, but I really didn’t expect things to get this deep.
“Well hopefully, that’s sooner rather than later,” Grandma says. “You might think I’m still a spry chicken, but I’m just about plucked and ready for the fryer.” She looks around and smirks. “Not that I can’t think rings around all of y’all though. But on that note, I think it’s time for bed.”
Grandma starts to get to her feet, but before she can heave herself up, Oliver’s there guiding her up. “Thank you, young man. Handsome and a gentleman. Good night, you all.”
“Goodnight, Grandma,” I say, watching Oliver give me a smoldering look as he sits back down. When he settles in, I lean over and whisper to him softly. “That was nice of you.”
“She’s funny,” Oliver whispers back. “I like her.”
“I think it’s time we all retired,” Mom says, also rising to her feet. “We have a packed schedule this week. Breakfast is served at eight in the morning. I expect everyone to make it, even if you’re just eating some Pop Tarts.” She arches a brow at my sister. “I’m looking at you, Miss Roxy Price. And show your sister and Oliver to their room, will you?”
“Of course,” Roxy replies, jumping to her feet. “We made sure to give you guys a nice, private room far from everyone else so you can’t disturb everyone with the wild sounds of whips and handcuffs,” she says with a big wink and nudge from her elbow to my midsection.
“Oh, we Ieft those at home,” Oliver quips, making me blush as we let Roxy lead us up the stairs.
“You guys really make a cute couple,” Roxy says. “You could be a couple in a movie or something.”
“Thanks,” Oliver says. “We get that all the time.”
“I was serious about your brother. No pressure, but I’m a little hard up,” Roxy says with a laugh, and I’m surprised. My outgoing little sister, hard up for a date? Then again . . . Oliver’s brother, if he even exists? No chance in hell.
“Trust me, you don’t want to do that,” Oliver says, and I feel an awesome wave of relief wash over me. He’s not a total asshole.
Roxy lets out a sigh as we reach the guest bedroom. “Damn. Oh, well. Here it is.”
Roxy, swings open the doors, stepping inside with us. “Welcome to the . . . I think John called it the Morgan Bedroom. No clue why.”
The room is huge, with a giant picture window that dominates one wall and a balcony outside, white walls, and a huge gray four-poster, canopied bed in the middle. The rug is gorgeous, and every carved twist of wood, from the details in the door frame to the gilded edges of the molding on the ceiling, screams luxurious. I look around, and I notice that our luggage is waiting for us beside the Cherrywood dresser.
“Goodnight, you two,” Roxy says, mischievously wiggling her eyebrows at us. “Don’t make too many bumps in the night. Or at least, muffle the screams when you do.”
Before I can protest, Roxy turns and walks out, closing the door behind her. I step toward the door and turn, realizing that I’m alone with Oliver for the first time since meeting him in the living room at Gavin’s.
The moment hits me, and I realize that I’m faced with the situation I’ve been dreading. This room is so extravagant, so why isn’t there a sofa in here that I can make him sleep on? The room has everything but a damn sofa.
“This is . . . nice,” I remark, trying to stall. I walk around the bed to the other side of the room, studying the night through giant French doors. “We’ll have a great view in the morning.”
“We will,” Oliver agrees, and I turn around to see him beginning to unbutton his shirt.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice unsteady. “You can’t be serious!”
He gives me a look before pausing. He’s got his shirt half opened, revealing a set of super-hard abs and tanned skin beneath.
“I’m unbuttoning my shirt. What’s it look like?” Oliver asks. “You know, I can’t exactly go to bed in a sports coat and khakis.”
My mind is flooded with thoughts of all the dirty, sexy things that could happen if I let them. I’d normally be down for a night of fun with a man like him, but I just can’t get over his cockiness. My pride’s getting in the way of a good fuck. But lying in a bed with him with only a few inches and some cloth between us? Asshole or not, his body is irresistible.
I grab myself by the arms, squeezing, trying to ward away the desire flowing through my body as the image of his lips burning into mine flashes in my mind. My pussy clenches as I remember the kiss from earlier that seemed to promise paradise. Oh, fuck.
I’m not caving on the first night. No fucking way.
I set my face as hard as I can and stab a finger at the floor. “I think you should sleep on the floor for tonight. I’m not sharing a bed with you.”
Oliver looks at me like I’m crazy before letting out a chuckle. “Like hell. I’m a man, not a dog. If you want to sleep on the floor, be my guest.”
He pulls his shirt all the way off, tossing it to the side. In an instant, I have a full view of him. Every muscle on his torso is defined and flows like a piece of artwork from one to the next, and all of them are saying fuck me, Mindy.
My knees give a wobble as they become weak. Sweet baby Jesus. He is on fire.
I place my hands on my hips, trying to be strong. “Yeah, that’s exactly why I want you to sleep there. You are a dog, and I don’t fucking trust you.”
On one hand, I’m pissed that I can’t let my pride go. I want to get in that bed and lick him from head to toe, but beyond his being an ass today, I’m scared. I’m scared what would happen if I sleep with him. And it’s totally not me. I’m on guard because he’s different. He feels . . . I can’t decide if the right word is dangerous . . . or special.
And he’s not really my fiancé, I remind myself. It’s pretend.
“When are you going to learn, Princess?” he says, walking over and placing his hands on my waist. “I don’t follow your orders.” He leans into me just a little, invading my space, and whispers in my ear, “And I think you like it.” I can hear the smirk in his voice.
His body is so hot that my temperature is rising. I can see the ridges between his muscles, ridges I want to trace with my fingernails and scratch lightly, just the way I know he’d like it. I look up at his full, sensuous lips, and I practically feel them on my skin.
Fight it, bitch!
I pull away, my chest heaving and my face burning. “Keep your hands off me.” I try to sound firm, but what comes out sounds more like a moaning whisper. “Remember my rules.”
My words sound so weak. I’m having a hard time even thinking straight, and Oliver grins as if he’s saying you’ll be changing that tune soon. “If that’s how you want it.”
“Yes, that’s how I want it,” I rasp, not even trusting myself to look at him. I stare at the door instead. “You need to follow the rules.”
No, you don’t! Take me now! my body seems to scream. Touch me, tease me, make me scream your name!
“I’m going to go change,” I mumble, trying to ca
lm down. I go get my bag and walk into the adjacent bathroom. I stare at myself in the mirror, taking a big calming breath. I throw cold water on my face, hoping it’ll shock my system back to normal, but after patting it dry, the same lust-crazed, barely in control reflection still looks back at me from the mirror.
“Okay, Mindy. Get yourself together. You’re stronger than this. Stop letting him know he affects you and he’ll stop,” I whisper, but the girl staring back at me says I’m a fucking liar. And I’m pretty sure she’s right.
I go through my bag, finding my brand new nightgown. I bite my lip. I shouldn’t wear it. It’s only going to make things worse. But fuck him. He’s got me all worked up, so now it’s his turn.
I take my gown out, a little red number I got from Victoria’s Secret, and put it on. The satin slips over my skin and I feel sexy, my nipples hardening as the lace rests against the tops of my breasts, and I quickly brush my teeth, looking at myself in the mirror. I’ve made a lot of strong men go to their knees with a lot less than this, and Oliver Steele is no different. I can make him beg and then shut him down. Or at least I’ll be in control when I fuck him senseless.
I walk back out, strutting with each step and not saying a word.
Oliver’s sitting on the bed in just his boxers, and he pales when he sees me. He swallows a lump, and I have to smirk a little when I see another lump twitch and grow between his legs. “Uh, you’re wearing that?”
I hide my grin as I walk over to the bed and sit down. “It’s my favorite nightgown. If you’ve got a problem with that, I guess you need to pull on some sweatpants or something,” I say with a raised eyebrow and a pointed glance down at his crotch.
His eyes burn into mine. My nipples get even harder, and I know he can see the diamond hard points. I don’t care. His lips seem to twitch, and I know he’s imagining sucking on them.
I pull back the blanket and lie on the sheets, stretching just a little bit, displaying what he isn’t going to get tonight. Oliver stares slack-jawed for a second before lying down, and then I see it. Lying down, there’s no way to hide it anymore. That huge fucking bulge.
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