Page 42 of Best Man Speaking

I move in closer, brushing my lips against her ear as I growl, “Funny, I was just thinking about what it would be like to press your tits together and push my cock between them. Get up close and personal with that little serpent of yours.”

I smile as goose bumps explode over her skin at the erotic image of one of the filthier above-the-waist ways we’d fooled around when we were younger.

Hallie’s swallow is audible. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done that.”

“If I remember correctly, you used to get off on it.”

My mind can’t help but conjure images of her hands braced alongside my own, fingers intertwined as we pressed her breasts together, my hips bucking and her gaze glazed. Somehow, I manage to keep those more descriptive thoughts in my head and adjust myself discreetly.

Hallie wiggles in her seat, giving me a shove with her shoulder. “You’re an ass, and we’re in public. Buy me a drink and play nice.”

I laugh good-naturedly and sit back, catching the attention of the bartender from earlier. “A glass of red for the lady, please, preferably something dark. She likes it when it matches her lips.”

“Not that you don’t get off making me squirm when we’re alone, but have you heard from our lovely bride and groom?” she asks, their current absence more than notable.

“They’re running late getting back from an appointment with their officiant,” I answer. Jules had called me not long before she’d arrived to let me know, and I’d found myself faking annoyance at the two of us being left alone together.

The bartender places Hallie’s drink in front of her, and she gifts him with a smile I would rather have for myself.

“I’ll probably need another one of these,” Hallie says with a little grimace, red wine halfway to her mouth.

“You don’t need to look so completely thrilled about having to spend time alone with me. You didn’t seem nearly as put out by our one-on-one time earlier today.” The smug words leave my mouth before I’m able to think better of them, especially sinceI’d complained of the same thing to Julian on the phone earlier. Hypocritical doesn’t begin to cover it. The only difference being Hallie had insulted me to my face, not on the phone to someone else. Although I wouldn’t put it past her.

She sips her wine, a small smile curving her lips. “I wouldn’t say I’m not thrilled. It’s more that I’m doubting your ability to have a woman find pleasure in your company more than once a day.”

The words are released in jest, but they don’t hit their intended comedic mark. Instead, she looks as uncomfortable as I feel. What’s been working for us over the last few days is no longer working today.

I place my glass down on the granite bar, eyes focused on the solid cube of ice resting within it.

“You really do have a questionable opinion of me and not just my sexual prowess, don’t you?” I ask, knowing I don’t particularly deserve any type of honest answer, nor do I deserve a kind one. But hope springs eternal.

“Well, our history hasn’t really given me much reason to have faith,” Hallie answers, suddenly treading carefully.

It’s an opening for a conversation that’s long overdue. The fact it’d be here and now in such a public place seems almost prophetic, and I’m uncertain if we’re ready for it.

“They do say history’s recorded by the victors,” I reply, unable to keep a thread of droll cynicism out of my voice.

“And you think I was a victor in our past?” Her disbelief is evident.

“You seem to be doing all right.” I tip my drink in her direction, our demeanor at complete odds from only moments ago.

“No thanks to you,” she throws back, her posture tensing with a likely mix of anger and discomfort. “And you’re not doing too poorly yourself.” Her words hit their intended mark, and Itilt my head in acknowledgment, taking another sip from my glass.

Hallie’s chest rises and falls at the same pace as my own, no longer languid but short and sharp. The heady tension between us pulls unbelievably tight. It’s a cord I don’t want to snap, that neither of us can afford to snap. Not yet.

We aren’t ready for this conversation. Hell, after today, I’m not ready for this conversation, and there’s no way Hallie’s ready to forgive me.

And so I pull us back to neutral ground.

“White flag,” I growl out. “Rule three, polite interactions in social situations.”

I never would’ve thought I’d be the one to call on my brother’s ridiculous set of rules, but here we are.

Hallie’s eyes narrow on mine, but she remains silent.

“I mean,” I say, considering my next words, “if we’re going to spend any time together, we may as well be honest with each other, but potentially not that honest.”

“Honest? I didn’t think that was a word you’d be familiar with,” Hallie quips, pulling a hand through her hair. The tension starts to ease from her shoulders.

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