Page 57 of Never Been Worse

Harper is giddy at the after-party, eyes wide as she looks around the room filled with celebrities and musicians. I forgot this, a bit jaded to it, how exciting it can be to see your idols all together in the same room, acting like normal people.

“You good?” I ask, leaning into her.

“I, uh,” she starts, looking around, her eyes going wide when she catches her eye on boy band singer Mickey Kline. “Yeah. It’s just a lot. I’ve never been to something like this, been around so many celebrities.”

I’m sure her ex had the opportunity to go to star-studded events, but from what it seems like, he wouldn’t have taken her if he did. I hate that she was treated so poorly, but I’m secretly grateful I’m the one who gets to give her these experiences, the one who gets to see her eyes get wide and excited.

“You want a drink?” I ask, tipping my head toward the bar in the corner. “Relax a bit?”

She shakes her head quickly, not hesitating at all, like she’s already considered and vetoed this option.

“You sure?”

“l have a soda. I want…” She bites her lip, looking around, then at me, eyes landing on my lips. “I want to remember tonight fully. Nothing twisting up my mind.”

My heart races, and I pull her in close, my lips going to the spot beneath her ear and pressing there as I whisper. “I have a feeling I could be absolutely hammered tonight, and every moment from the second we get home will still be imprinted on my brain for eternity.”

Her body shivers beneath my hands, and I smile.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to give you even the slightest excuse not to consummate this marriage tonight, Mr. Holden,” she whispers, and even though the room is loud, I hear every single word, feeling it in my gut.

“Leo’s not looking,” I say. “We could sneak out.” Her arms on my neck tighten, and her lips roll in, hiding a smile as she looks at something over my shoulder. I sigh, knowing exactly what—or rather,who—it is.

“The fuck I’m not,” Leo says from behind me, a hand going to my shoulder. I groan, then turn to him, a shit-eating grin on his lips like he loves my misery. “Now come. Willa wants to say hi to your wife.” I lean back, looking at Harper, whose eyes have gone wide with panic. “She wants to talk to you about your designs. She’s already working on the aesthetic for the next album.”

Harper’s almost pale when I shift her, moving to guide her in the direction of our host. “Come on, little wife, time to make your move.”

TWENTY-ONE

HARPER

Wes’s hand goes to my thigh once we’re in the car, and it burns there for the first five minutes of the too-long twenty-minute drive back to his house. I've never wanted to take him up on any of the offers of various luxuries, but tonight, I wish we’d have taken a town car or something where we could roll up the divider.

I’d be on my knees before him, his cock in my mouth, finally knowing what he feels like, what he tastes like. Or maybe I’d have just shifted my panties to the side and straddled him, letting him slide in deep.

My body shifts at the idea, uncomfortable and turned on and needing…something.

Anything.

“Are you okay, little wife?” Wes asks. “You seem a little fidgety.”

“I’d be a lot better if we’d gotten a hotel room,” I mumble under my breath, boldness fueled by nothing but lust and desire. I didn’t drink at Willa’s after-party, wanting to be completely present and not give Wes even the smallest excuse to put off tonight.

Now I’m regretting it, wondering if a drink would have taken the edge off. His hand moves, sliding inward but not up, gripping and gently pulling so my legs are forced to open a bit. My breath hitches, my breathing racing a bit more.

“And why is that?” he asks.

“Because then you could be inside me by now.” A low groan leaves his lips, making me lick mine. Despite the dark of the car, I’m able to see the planes of his face, the look of near pain as he drives.

“Would I now? That’s quite the assumption,” he says, but as he does, his finger slides up gently. He moves so slowly, if I weren’t so in tune with every twitch, I might not notice it. I widen my legs to give him room in response.

“Call it female intuition,” I say, then sigh as his pinky finger grazes along the front of my underwear. “Wes.”

“Hmm?”

“How far are we from home?” I ask, even though it’s displayed on the navigation of the car. We still have at least fifteen minutes left.

“Too long,” he says, finally dropping a bit of the facade. His fingers glide up along the line of my hip before tucking under and moving along the lacy seam of my panties. “Too fucking long,” he repeats as his fingers move down closer to where I need him most, want him most.

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