“Thank you for bringing me here. And I’m sorry about this afternoon,” I whisper, catching a glimpse of Lucas’s nearly naked, tattooed reflection in the mirror that hangs on the back of our hotel door. Lunch ended hours ago, but I’ve been apologizing ever since we left my grandmother’s place to board a flight to Atlanta. The trip came as a surprise--when we exchanged gifts after eating, he’d presented me with the tickets. Not that I’m complaining. I welcome this escape from my mother, from the smug grin that flitted across her face whenever she defended her decision to invite my ex to Gram’s.
Realizing that I’m scowling at the mirror, I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten before facing him again.
“Ugh, I need to stop letting my mom screw with me. I mean, I get to see Kylie tonight. And I’ll wake up next to you tomorrow morning. It’s our first Christmas together.”
Turning away from the fully stocked minibar, Lucas releases a chuckle and shakes his head, his mess of wet dark hair falling in his beautiful face. As he strides toward me, he shoves his unruly locks back so our eyes lock. He stops once he’s behind me, skimming his hands from my waist to my hips and back up again.
“Don’t bring that woman in here with us,” he whispers, dropping his full lips to my temple. “In fact, if you mention her one more time—” Instead of telling me what he’ll do, he teasingly shows me, giving my ass a little smack that makes me gasp.
I swear, getting spanked shouldn’t feel so good.
“You’re getting me wet,” I manage to say through my breathlessness, and when his brows shoot up and his grin broadens, I quickly revise that remark. “My dress, Mr. Wolfe. Your chest is wet and you’re getting it all over me.”
Giving me an appreciative look, he backs away from me and studies my backside before motioning for me to turn around to face him. I do, and he slowly drinks in the sight of the strappy red bandage dress. It was another gift from him today—from a designer that I’ve always wanted to wear—and I’m already attached to the sexy little number. “I want to tear it off you. God, the effect you have on me, Red…”
I rest my shoulders against the mirror behind me and shake my head. “If you even think about ripping this dress, I’ll—” But he tugs me to him, his strong hands on either side of my ass and his gaze intense as he stares down at me. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“I’ll always look at you like this.” His mouth moves over mine, tasting slowly in an agonizing, sensual dance. When he draws away, his eyes are closed. Taking my hand in his, he presses my palm against his rock-hard erection, and my throat goes dry. “We show up, we mingle, and then you’re all mine.”
This is the second time we’ve been to a party in Atlanta—the first was several months ago—but this time instead of a night club, it’s being held at a swanky Buckhead house. A few minutes after we arrive, and Kylie finds me, she tells me it belongs to a top executive of the band’s record company. Hooking her arm through mine, she starts to drag me off, giving her brother a death glare when he tries to protest.
“Good god, Luke, you can go without her for five minutes. Go talk to Wyatt or Cal. Y’all can plan a Christmas album for next year or some shit,” she tells him over her shoulder.
He responds with a dark look that stomps all over the one she’s giving him, but she pulls me around the corner to where she grins at a bartender. I glance from her rounded belly to her eyebrows tugging together in determination and scowl. “Um, Kylie—”
She rolls her big, chocolate brown eyes. “Oh, calm your tits, woman. I wouldn’t dream of touching a real drink to these lips until baby McCrae makes his appearance.” To the bartender, she sweetly asks, “Can I get a virgin Bloody Mary with a ton of olives?”
After I ask for the same—but with a double shot of vodka and an eighth of the olives—I turn to her. “How was Disney World?”
“Really, really ... Disney.” She tilts her face up to look at me, the corners of her eyes crinkling because she’s smiling so hard.
“If you keep that up, you’re going to break your face.”
She drops the smile but then laughs in earnest. “Brenna had a good time, so that’s all that matters.” She spends the next couple minutes giving me the rundown on her mini-vacation with Wyatt and her stepdaughter. Once we have our drinks, we walk to the pool—which seems to be the quietest part of the house.
“Your mom is on my crap list,” she finally says. “Seriously, I hope that crazy bitch wakes up tomorrow morning to find a sack of dogshit under the tree.”
I laugh bitterly. “Join the club. Your parents probably think we’re all kinds of messed up and trashy.” Lucas had already mentioned visiting his parents tomorrow, for more Christmas festivities, and I’m already dreading it.
We sit side-by-side on teak lounge chairs. “Actually, my parents had nothing but good things to say about you. I wouldn’t have known what happened if Lucas hadn’t texted what happened.”
I should feel relief at Kylie’s words, but it doesn’t change the awkward tension that hung over the entire table this afternoon. “He thinks Mom is jealous of my relationship with Gram,” I say quietly.
She pops an olive in her mouth and bobs her head up and down. “Sometimes, he’s right. Believe it or not, this is one of those times I completely agree with him.”
“I just wish that—” But then I catch myself and rake my hands through my hair, probably ruining the loose red curls I worked hard to perfect. “Not even an hour ago I promised Lucas I’d stop talking about that woman, and yet here I am—”
“Kylie Wolfe,” a voice calls out, interrupting me, and I bite the tip of my tongue because I instantly recognize who it belongs to. We both look up to see Cilla Craig coming our way. Like always, she looks beautiful, with her black hair swept up in a high ponytail and her curves poured into a sexy black jumpsuit. I try to forget that she and Lucas were briefly involved. Stopping right in front of us, she puts her hands on her hips and sweeps her blue-green eyes over me.
“Didn’t realize you’d be here, Pepper.”