Page 20 of Give It a Day
While I think of all the different ways I can make her maddening mouth shut, her gaze sweeps the room again, landing on the black bar cart in the corner, carrying a couple of bottles of liquor and some glassware.
“You’ve been holding out on me.” She speaks with a teasing lilt. “Pour me a drink, dear husband. Something strong while you’re at it. It’ll make going through this reception much easier.”
I follow her gaze, frowning sternly. “That’s decades-old whiskey from Japan, and high-end soju from Korea.” I’m not saying no, but I like hearing her barter. My implication hangs between us—my way of teasing her right back.
“Come on,” she says, stepping closer, her eyes sparkling with that mischief I’ve grown fond of so swiftly. “Don’t tell me you’re the type who hoards the good stuff and never shares. That’s practically criminal.”
I smirk slightly. It’s a fitting word, being called criminal. I move to the cart, picking up a crystal shot glass. “One drink. Then we’re both heading to the reception.” When she nods, I pour soju into the glass. The whiskey was a gift from my father’s relatives, and it takes fifty-five years for it to reach its peak. I’m an impatient man, and the soju—a gift from my mother’s relatives—is more fitting for Kayla. She’s strong, swift, quick, and dirty. Just how I expect my wife to be. How else could she keep up with me?
“Why, thank you,husband.” There’s that teasing lilt in her voice again, and it’s music to my ears, as much as her impassioned moans were. I stretch my neck slightly, eyes briefly closed, imagining her under me. By the vineyard below this study, Kayla and I are expected there to start the wedding reception soon, but my body wants to claim hers right at this moment.
When I hand her the glass, our fingers brush. The brief contact feels like a spark igniting between us. It makes my desire for her much, much worse.
She takes the shot, her gaze never leaving mine. “Smooth,” she says, her lips curving around the word. “I could get used to this.”
“You can. I’d give you anything you want, but…” I say, my voice rough, as I take the empty shot glass from her. I have to give her fair warning to put her in her place. “My study isn’t a place for you, little bird.”
She pouts. It’s rather adorable. “Here I thought I was given rein over theentiremansion.”
“The mansionisall yours. Even the vineyard. But not my study. Not for”—I briefly pause to point at both of us—“chats like this. This is where I hoard more than liquor. There are secrets here that I use to plan, strike, and win.”
Her brow arches. “What are you trying to win right now, Damon?”
My jaw tightens, but the truth spills out before I can stop it. “You.” The word hangs in the air, heavy between us.
She doesn’t speak. The silence stretches taut, pulling tighter with every passing second. Her lips part slightly, as if to respond, but instead, she steps closer. Her gaze dips briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes, the moment charged and electric. Does she know how much power she has over me? Because I’m close to admitting much more if it means she’ll stay by my side.
“Good luck with that,” she says, and the words ignite something in me. Her defiance is as I’ve said to her before—a red flag to a bull.
She steps past me, her shoulder brushing mine. But I catch her wrist, pressing the silver bracelet she’s wearing—the family heirloom—into her skin. My vise grip could brand the bracelet into her.
“Kaye,” I say, my tone steadier than I feel. “You’ve had your drink. Letme at least get you something to eat before you decide to pass out at the reception.”
She pauses mid-step, her lips curling into that maddening smile. I want to see it for as long as possible, but just as badly, I want to see her lips parted, letting out soft whimpers. Instead, she moves her lips to speak teasingly. “Are you worried about me, Damon? That’s cute.”
I ignore the bait, moving to the mini fridge under the bar cart where I keep an assortment of inordinate snacks for long nights. Pulling out a platter of crackers, aged cheeses, and olives, I set it on my desk, along with a refreshed shot glass, knowing that’ll make her stay.
“Sit.” I nod toward the chair across from the desk. “It’s better than balancing your drink on those heels.”
“I’ve worn worse, butfine.” She lifts her shoulder, taking her time to move to the chair, her gaze sweeping over me like she’s measuring my intentions.
She sits, and for some reason, my body is less tense at the sight. Perhaps because she’s showing more signs of submission, that she’s becoming more and more compliant every moment that passes now that she’s my wife, now that she’smine.
“Fancy,” she says, reaching for a piece of cheese. “Don’t think your cute gestures will get me to cater to your every whim, Damon.”
“Please, I insist you call me Dae. I’m your husband, aren’t I?” I smirk as I say that gratifying truth.
She studies me over the rim of her glass, her eyes gleaming. “Okay,Dae. But just so you know, if you keep bossing me around—evenif it’s for my own good—I might give you a hard time during the reception after all.”
“And doing so would risk your desired goal to discuss an annulment.” The words leave my mouth rougher than I intend. The air between us thickens, her smirk fading as her glare locks on my unmoving gaze.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then she leans forward. “That’d be a move only a horrific asshole would make.”
I stand slowly, adjusting my tailored jacket. “Such language from a lady.”
She smirks and ignores my comment, eyeing me with heavy lids. “Thanks,Dae, for the scrumptious snack.” She crosses her legs, making the hem of her dress pool upwards.
My eyes roam over the bare skin of her legs. “As I’ve said, I can’t have my wife pass out at our reception, can I?”
