Then it glided back. Okay…maybe he was just readjusting to the previous position.
Then it glided back and forth. Slowly. Consistently. Sending an ever-expanding bolt of lightning up my inner thigh until one more stroke sent the sensation shooting to my core.
I clenched my grip around his arm and my thighs. Crap. I didn’t mean to. That was definitely out of my control, and now he knew what he was doing to me with this subtle movement that no one else noticed. The room was getting hotter. That breeze wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot.
He tilted his chin so that his profile came into better view. Sunny was smirking. He knew exactly what his touch was doing to me. More than that, he liked what his touch was doing to me. Which meant Sunny liked touching me. And that, well, that just turned me on even more.
The couple moved on to the cake.
“Finally,” I said, breathless.
Sunny gave me a look.
“What? You know I only came for the cake.” I winked and stood as sexily as possible. But first, I leaned into Sunny so that one arm was pressed against his, giving him a good view down the top of my dress. This push-up bra was killing it, and his lingering glance at my display proved it.
“I’m going for the cake,” I said. “Want some?”
“I’m here for the cake, too.”
I returned with plenty of lemon cake smothered in decadent frosting with a mini yellow orchid. By then, plates full of food had appeared in my absence. But dessert first.
We ate and I listened to others chat, easing out of the conversation to avoid being overwhelmed with the crowds and noise and attention. I could focus on food.
One by one, the wedding party returned to the dance floor, leaving our table empty. They urged us to join them. Sam was even tugging on Sunny’s sleeve, and I could tell it was getting harder for him to decline.
“You should go,” I insisted. “My feet are starting to hurt. Don’t worry about me.”
Sunny raised a brow. “Who said I was even thinking about you?”
I knew he was obviously joking, but why did the idea of him not thinking about me hurt? This was desperate, dark water I was wading into, and that was dangerous for a fake relationship. Sure, we were living a trope that played out well in books and movies. But we lived in the real world. This was real life. And as soon as these people were off the island, Sunny and I would go back to being bickering coworkers who lived an hour apart and one of us, perhaps, would resent the other for getting the PM position.
“You should enjoy your friends’ wedding. Go. Dance. We’re almost over, but that doesn’t mean you can’t cut out a little early to enjoy what you came here for.”
We’re almost over. More words shooting pangs through my chest.
Sunny watched me, back to being impassive and thoughtful, quiet. I couldn’t gauge a reaction, a sentiment, anything from him. Ah, yes, we were effortlessly creeping back to reality, to what we were before this vacation and what we would return to afterward.
He pressed his lips into a line and looked at my hand before taking it into his own. “Come dance with me.”
I squawked out a laugh, quickly covering my mouth as the song changed tempo to something more energetic. “I’m not a good dancer.”
“I’m sure you’re great.”
I tilted toward him. “I’m saving you from being embarrassed.”
He tilted toward me. “Embarrassing me is your favorite pastime.”
I leaned in even more. “It would be too easy to annihilate your entire reputation with one move. I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
He leaned in even more. “I would love for you to annihilate me with one move.”
Why was he so close? So close that his breath smelled of champagne and cake. So close that my lips could almost feel his. So close that he could probably hear my pulse raging behind my ears, my heart beating through my chest.
I sat back, forcing myself to unravel from this fantasy before it entangled me.
I shrugged, teasing at maybe a yes. The truth was, while these events almost always proved to be too much for my anxiety, my body wanted nothing more than to be in his arms.
Thirty-two Sunny
Bane’s shoulders rose in an innocent shrug, and she batted her lashes. I managed to train my eyes on hers, not let them fall to the curve of her neck, where the skin was soft and fragrant, or her collarbone, where the ridge was ripe for a touch, or the swollen mounds of her breasts in this sexy-as-fuck little dress. She knew what shrugging did. She knew that I wanted to look, that I wanted to touch her, to kiss her. And just maybe, she liked knowing that I wanted all those things. Just maybe, she wanted me to.
“Your feet are bothering you?”
She nodded.
“Let me remedy that.”
I tapped on her foot, the one swaying from her crossed leg, before taking it and placing it on the edge of the seat between my thighs. She stilled the instant my fingers touched her ankle. I peered up at her, all frozen, watching me, her lips parted, her chest heaving, her hands clutching the sides of her chair.
“Is this okay?” I asked slowly, suggestively. I never wanted to take my eyes off her, not when she looked at me like that.
She nodded, relaxing her shoulders.
I removed her shoe and massaged her ankle, watching her melt into her chair. When I pressed a thumb into her arch, she jerked forward.
“Tickles?”
She shook her head. I pressed harder, and that made it better for her. Her eyelids fluttered when I stroked along the arch to the underside. She gasped, and my attention fell to her mouth. Bane drew her lower lip in between her teeth. My pulse hammered inside my head as I took the other shoe off and repeated.
