Page 71 of The Wedding Menu

“You’re cute when you’re jealous, but I can’t see you right now, so cut it out.” He drapes his arm around me again. “And quit calling her that.”

“Calling her what?”

“My girlfriend.”

My mouth snaps open against his chest, and my eyes widen enough that, even in the dark, I can see the yellow sweater I’m pressed against. What does he mean? They aren’t married, are they? “Isn’t she your girlfriend?”

“No?” Laughter rumbles in his throat. “I told you, Amelie. Idon’t want a girlfriend, a wedding, or a wife.” When I don’t utter a word, his chin dips. “Did you think she was my girlfriend?”

“Yes!”

“Oh.” He pulls me with him as he takes a few steps back. “Why? I never said she was.”

“You—she’s all over you, Ian.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well. You know how I said you’re cute when you’re jealous? Turns out jealousy makes her really annoying.”

On that we agree.

“So… you’re single?”

“Always.”

Oh my God, he’s single. Ian’s here, next to me—at this moment, almost on top of me—and he’s single. My heart palpitates, a smile taking over my face and dying just as quickly. He’s not with Ella; he’s not with anyone. And he still doesn’t want to be with me.

I let myself melt against his chest, wanting to drown my sudden sadness in him. My hand moves to his back, and his body relaxes with an exhale. We stand still for a few seconds, his heart beating against my ear, then quickening as his other arm wraps around me.

My hands travel up his spine, feeling the corded muscles hiding under his shirt, and soon our hug turns from friendly to not so much. My whole body presses against his, my fingers rubbing the base of his neck. He locks one arm over the other until I’m squeezed tightly, and eventually my fists bunch in his hair.

Between his arms is where I belong.

“Amelie?” he whispers. “What…”

Letting one arm go, I use my fingers to crawl forward until my hand rests on his cheek. I’m not exactly sure of what I’m doing, except I’m very aware we won’t be this close again for the rest of this week. Hell, maybe for the rest of our lives. And I might beheartbroken, and I might be rusty when it comes to intimacy, but I’m not stupid.

I attempt a light tug, pulling him closer, and when his face follows with no resistance, I do it again and meet him halfway until our mouths tentatively meet.

With a soft sigh, he smiles against my lips.

It’s like being burned and healed all at once.

The second time his mouth meets mine, he takes the lead, his hand cupping the back of my head and his tongue pushing into my mouth. There’s hunger in his kiss. Lust and a rushed eagerness to discover. He holds me against him, and as my body molds itself to his flat chest, he lets out a hum of pleasure.

“Ian?Ian?” Ella calls out, her voice so shrill and annoying, I’m tempted to throw an egg at the spot it’s coming from.

But I withdraw a little, and, squeezing me tighter, he whispers, “She’s fine. One more minute.”

And for one more minute we continue, though it’s likely much more than that. I hardly have enough experience to be making assessments, but he’s an excellent kisser. I feel our kiss in my bones, in my stomach, lighting me up like a Christmas tree until I’m so receptive to him that I’m breathing heavily in his mouth with every gentle tug and rub.

It’s undoubtedly the best kiss I’ll ever receive in this lifetime.

With a sudden loud clack, the lights flicker on again, and in an instant his arms, his hands, his mouth are gone… just a second too late. Whoever is still in the room saw the way we were together. Not like friends. Definitely not like the rivals we pretend to be.

When his eyes widen as if he’s seen a ghost, I return his scared look. “What—” I begin, but he grabs my shoulders and pulls me with my back to him, his hands holding me between himself and the remaining audience.

He walks backward, squeezing my shoulder. “So sorry about that. And thank you for joining us—”

Barb’s roaring laughter explodes to our right, but when I try to turn to her, Ian’s hold on me tightens, and I stumble back. What the hell is—oh my God, that’s a boner. Yep. His cock is standing proud and pressing against my ass.

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