Page 143 of Rare Blend
I turn at the sound of Marisa’s voice and watch as she saunters into our bedroom, wearing one of her sinful little dresses. The weather is still fairly cool for early spring, but you’d never know it wasn’t blazing summer by the strappy, hot pink dress she’s wearing. I can’t wait to strip her out of it later.
“Behave,” she warns with a sexy smile.
We’re definitely leaving the party at least an hour early. I don’t think I can last late into the night with her dressed like that and not being able to do anything about it.
When our gazes latch, I find the heat in her eyes mirrors mine and raise a brow at her. “Now who’s the one giving the eye-fuck.”
Her arms cross, only drawing more attention to her full, round tits. “What can I say, I’m weak for a rugged man in a custom suit. Something about calloused hands and cufflinks really does it for me.”
“Baby, if that’s your kink, I’ll wear this monkey suit daily.”
She laughs heartily and the huskiness of it warms my chest. Her laugh is the best damn sound I’ve ever heard—apart from her moans.
Sometimes I still wake up worried I dreamed the whole thing and she never came back. It’s a nightmare that takes me a few seconds to shake until I realize it’s her warm body next to mine. Right where she belongs. Forever.
I have no intentions of pushing Marisa before she’s ready, but the ring I have hiding in my desk drawer is burning a hole in my thoughts. Every day I try to pretend it’s not there and every day I fail. It’s getting harder to wait, especially now that construction has started on our house. We had to wait for the harsh winter to pass, but once it did, it’s been full speed ahead. We both know marriage is in our future, but I’m not going to ask until I’m absolutely certain she’s ready. Until then, I’ll continue to feel like the luckiest guy alive, because I get to share my life with this amazing woman.
“Come on, lover boy. We can’t be late because we had a quickie beforehand. Your siblings will totally be able to tell. Especially Shane.”
The party is in full swing when we arrive. I swallow the dryness in my throat, watching as large crowds filter in, and the sounds of a million conversations blur into one chaotic hum.
Marisa clutches onto my hand and gives it a squeeze.
“You give me the word, and we’re out of here. We can tell people I have food poisoning or something.”
God, I love her. I love that she gets it, and I don’t have to explain it. I’ve never had to explain it.
“Thanks, baby.” I bring up our joined hands and give her knuckles a kiss. “Let’s go inside before I lose the nerve.”
Inside, I immediately scan the overflowing ballroom for one of my siblings. Elyse spots us first and waves us over. She’s the coordinator of the event, and looking very much the part, holding a tablet against her chest.
“I thought your mom said this was going to be a small, intimate event,” Marisa says as we weave through to get to Elyse.
“This is her version of intimate.”
She huffs, looking around. “I think she needs to look up the definition again.”
“I sat you guys with the rest of the crew.” Elyse points to a table near the stage and pushes us off, looking stressed.
I lead the way while we maneuver the round banquet tables decoratively covered in linen tablecloths and an array of centerpieces. This party looks a lot more like a wedding than it does a thirty-fifth anniversary celebration.
We spot Robert and Jenn as we get closer to our table, and they toss us a wave. Marisa also runs into a few of her coworkers, promising to meet up with them later.
The room is full of people I know, and it’s both comforting and tortuous all at once. I give Marisa’s hand a squeeze, telling her I found our table.
When we get there, Gavin and Shane are chatting while Layla and Ariana entertain Lily by coloring with her.
Shane’s eyes give Marisa a once-over before cutting to me and giving me a wink. He’s always trying to get a rise out of me, especially when it comes to Marisa.
“Looking good, Marisa,” Shane tells her.
Marisa smiles like she’s holding in a laugh. “Thanks, Shane.”
Gavin drums on the table. “Are we betting or what?”
I grumble at the same time Marisa asks, “What are we betting on?”
Gavin and Shane lean closer to her, as if they’re divulging top-secret information.
