Page 52 of Wicked Deceit
He quickly peeks, taking in the slew of men and women coming and going, and nods. “Yeah, it seems fishy. When we find the others we’ll investigate, okay?” I give him a small smile and pull him close, reveling in the heat of his embrace. "They should be meeting us here soon," he promises, holding me tight.
Our bodies meet, pressing into one another like a puzzle piece clicking into place. His warmth seeps through his suit, filling my stomach with swarming butterflies. Like Carter had promised a few weeks ago when we went to his apartment after the icky goo, he got us a big hotel suite tonight.
“Before,” he murmurs in my ear, leaning down so his lips brush my skin. “I said you look so beautiful tonight.”
My cheeks heat at his words, and I reach up for him, letting my fingers trail over the smooth skin of his jaw.
“Well, you don’t look half-bad yourself,” I murmur, kissing the underside of his chin, admiring how his broad shoulders and chest fit into the confines of his tux.
My hand runs the length of his chest, plucking at the matching blue bowtie I convinced him to wear. Okay, well—convince isn’t the right word. Chase didn’t bat an eye when I held it up, and I told him it matched my lace blue dress. He jumped at the chance to wear it and put it on with a grin.
He sighs, pulling me closer, and we sway to nonexistent music, only the tune in our minds. “Well, shit,” he murmurs, pulling his face out of the crook of my neck. “Here comes Grumpy. You might cream your panties at the sight of him, Sunshine.” He kisses my cheek one last time, and I shiver when his heat disappears, but someone else replaces him from behind.
A warmth presses at my backside, wrapping an arm around my waist. “You look so fucking delectable, Sweetheart. I could lick you,” Carter mumbles against my ear and pushes himself harder against me. I feel every plane of muscle contracting when his fingers glide over my abdomen. Thank God we’re hiding from prying eyes in a dark alcove, separating us from the enormous crowd pouring into the room, or he’d be caught feeling me up. And I might just let him do all kinds of dirty things to me here in the shadows.
Chase snorts, looking Carter up and down. “I’ll get us some drinks. Think I can sneak some champagne?” His blonde eyebrows wiggle up and down, walking backward toward the mahogany bar in a brightly lit part of the ballroom.
Warm kisses trail down my jaw, moving slowly toward my ear. I hum, closing my eyes and leaning my back into Carter’s embrace. If I could stay in his arms forever, I would. I heave a breath, feeling the prying eyes of everyone in the room. Being in public, especially with my family and a set of murderers running around, puts a damper on that feeling simmering low in my gut. A constant worry gnaws at my insides when Carter touches the skin of my thigh, trailing up toward my panty line, and then he pulls away. The Apocalypse is always watching, and they’re everywhere inside this building.
“I never thought I’d miss someone as much as I fucking missed you,” he whispers into my ear, hugging me tighter, his muscles relaxing as he holds me close.
“It’s only been a few weeks since we left school,” I snort, turning myself around to face him, and wrap my arms around his neck, careful not to get my cast caught. Talk about clashing with my beautiful designer dress, too. His meaty fingers wrap around my neck with an intense grip, pulling my forehead to his.
His breaths pick up, and his fingers dig into my hip. But I let him have this moment. Sure, we’ve texted like crazy from our respective homes and have video chatted almost every night preparing for this event, but not being in each other’s arms has been hard. For all of us, not just me.
“And tonight.” Trailing a finger over his suited chest, my finger circles his nipple ring, poking through his dress shirt. Lust sparkles through his brown, hooded eyes when I tug the ring through his shirt—warmth pools in my belly when he shivers, grasping my wrist to stop me.
“Tonight, I take you to the presidential suite and make up for when I was stuck without you,” he rumbles softly, moving his hand under the back of my dress. “And I can’t wait to show you what my new hardware can do. I’m going to beat your pussy so hard. You’ll be screaming my name.” He punctuates his words by dragging me closer.
I melt into him when his fingertips dance across the bare flesh of my thigh, inching closer and closer to my ass. His breath skates across my skin, tickling ever so slightly as he takes a firm grip, one cheek in each hand. His muted groans are music to my ears when he squeezes hard, rolling my hips into his, proving how hard he missed me. And I do mean hard. Phew. How will we make it through this whole event without sneaking off to do some naughty things in the elevators? Wait…the elevators–no, they have cameras in those, so that’s a no go. We need to go to this mysterious room Carter booked us so we can say fuck it all and enjoy our evening together.
“For the first time in my life, I’ve found a bad habit I don’t want to kick. I want to fucking consume you every chance I get. Being away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever fucking felt. And I’ve never felt like this before,” he breathes in my ear, nipping at my lobe.
Breathing? What’s breathing? There’s no such thing as oxygen in this room. After his confession, I tug him impossibly closer. The hard planes of his body press into mine, and I fucking turn into goo in his arms with a pleasurable sigh.
From the boy whose mother never hugged him or told him she loved him to the man standing in front of me with his heart on display. He’s turned into more than what I ever thought he could be. His tongue won’t let him say the words, but his heart is on his sleeve, spewing the feelings he shoves down into the pit of his stomach.
“I love you, too,” I mutter under the approving vibrations rumbling from his chest.
He kisses the top of my head, lingering for longer than necessary. “What can I say? You make me this way,” he mutters back, ignoring my declaration of love like he always does. But I’ll take it for now because it’s as good as I’m going to get. He’ll say it one day when he’s comfortable, but I know it’ll be a while, and that’s okay.
I’m so carried away with him in my arms in our hidden spot, that I forget we are in enemy territory. And in a very public place—filled with nosy rich people, eager for more gossip. Or, you know, my parents and siblings.
“Is there a reason your hand is up my daughter’s skirt?” My father’s growl fills the tiny space we thought we hid in.
And just like that, I’m dropped like a hot potato and pushed back, nearly falling over my shoes. My father catches my shoulder, stopping my fall, but clings on and steps forward.
Carter’s brown eyes widen in panic, sizing up my pissed-off father. Fire burns in the depths of my father’s pupils, and the death grip on his champagne flute tightens, whitening his knuckles.
“I, um—” For the first time since I’ve met him, Carter clams up, and the cat has caught his tongue. He has no snarky comment to offer or swagger in his stance. Carter’s lips flop like a fish out of water, gaping at me and back at my father with an unreadable face. “I’m her boyfriend,” he exclaims—a deep red rushes across his cheeks and down his neck. Even the tips of his ears turn a tomato color, and I’m sure if I examined the rest of his extremities, they’d be the same.
I mentally facepalm and groan at the way this whole thing has turned out. This is not how I envisioned introducing my boyfriends to my dad. I wanted to take it slow, not throw them all into the ring at once and watch as they flounder. Maybe it’s better to rip the Bandaid off in public. At least then, he can’t murder all of us.
My father takes a casual sip of his drink, humming angrily under the bubbles. He finally removes his fingers from my shoulder, taking a deep, calming breath. Tension finally eases from his face, forcing himself back from the cliff of anger he was teetering on. Well, for now at least. My eyes widen, and I try to signal a finger across my throat when my adorable, golden retriever boyfriend shows up with drinks in his hands and a glorious smile on his face. Poor, poor oblivious bastard.
“Hey!” Chase shouts in an excited greeting, utterly oblivious to the man standing in our circle. He struts up with three drinks in his hand and a goofy grin. “I got us—” Chase’s eyes widen in panic, his lips pop open, and every word he is about to say drops off into a strangled squeak.
Tension rises as my father inspects Chase with a critical eye–or maybe a twitching eye. I lean forward, taking a close look at my red-faced father. And, yup! There it is, the tell-tale twitch of his eye signifying he’s about to blow a damn gasket. Could this night get any worse? Famous last words…
