Page 126 of The Wrong Sister
Or so I thought.
I walk out of my room to find Ezra in a black three-piece suit, leaning his ass on the same island counter he was just fucking me senseless on. My confidence falters. So do I.
He hears my footsteps because he brings his face up from the phone in his hands and frowns.
“This is how you are going to go?” His voice is gruff.
“Yes.” I square my shoulders and look down at him with a raised brow. “And you are going likethat?” Even though I very much hope it’s his outfit for the evening. Dressed in a classy dark gray suit, with hair fixed to the side, and dark, angry eyes, he’ll be the center of every woman’s attention and some men for sure.
His frown grows deeper as his eyes focus on my torso. “I can see your tits.”
“I imagine so.” I shrug one shoulder nonchalantly. “The neckline is very deep.”
“Yournecklinealmost shows your underwear,” he grinds out.
“What underwear?” I ask with wide open eyes. “I’m not wearing any.”
His neck moves with a hard swallow as his gaze dips to my hips. “You can’t go like that.”
“This dress was in my closet.”
He wipes his face with his hand, mumbling, “I’ll kill Martin.”
“Are we going or not? I could do other important things instead, you know.”
“I bet,” he says thoughtfully, with a hidden meaning I can’t comprehend, and the dark cloud returns above his head once again. “Let’s go.” He pushes away from the counter, shifting his gaze to the side.
I expect him to offer his arm for me as he usually does, but not this time.So this is how it’s going to be, huh?Mr. Hyde is back.
Can’t wait for the evening.
48
Ezra
I’m going to kill Martin,I repeat, in my head this time. What was he thinking buying her a dress so revealing? A little more and I’d see her nipples for fuck’s sake. And that lace? I don’t remember approving a gown like that. He went off script, that traitor. And Maeve being a devious fox doesn’t help either. Why did she need to announce her lack of underwear? I subtly adjust my rising cock while she’s swaying her hips in front of me. The vixen is doing it on purpose.
My hands are itching to touch her. Itching to run them over her shoulders. That sheer fabric makes me hungry. I know how the skin hiding beneath it tastes. I can see it but can’t touch. It’s torture.
Fuck, I want to bury my face between those tits and keep it there. So no one else can see them.
When we enter the elevator, the doors close, trapping mealone with the sweet smell of coconuts and something uniquely hers. She’ll be forever associated with coconuts and tropics and a promise of home. This is how my nose recognizes her.
We walk outside in silence where George is waiting for us with an open door. When he sees Maeve, his eyes fill with a new level of warmth I’ve never seen toward me. He gives her a short nod when she passes him and gets inside the car while I get a stern look. What in the ever-loving hell is going on?
We drive to the gala in total silence. The car stops in front of a red carpet. Thank fuck it’s a short walk because I’m in no mood for a camera being shoved in my face. I might shove it back.
While George walks around to open the door, I turn to her for the first time since we sat here.
“We need to show a united front.”
She slightly turns her head toward me. “Yeah?” Her tone suggests she thinks otherwise.
“Maeve,” I say. “We need to sell this marriage.”
“A little too late for that, don’t you think?”
I take a deep breath, trying not to raise my voice. It won’t help the situation.
