Chapter Eighteen
Ashton
If Sadie’s asshole ex glares at me one more time, we’re going to have issues.
Reserved conversation filters through the room, along with clinking silver on china. I fork in a bite of duck or lamb or whatever this shit is while I stroke Sadie out of her ever-loving mind.
Jake knows exactly what’s going on under the table which is why he keeps giving me his eat-shit glare. It’s not the barely contained rage on his face that bothers me. It’s the possessiveness. The air surrounding him that says he’s better than I am.
That expression tells me he thinks Sadie belongs to him.
I’ve got news for the bastard. Sadie is a goddamn person and doesn’t belong to anyone, but if someone is staking a claim here, it’s me.
Right now, my fingers are staking a damn memorable claim. I dip one into her wet center, making her grip the edge of the table. An audible gasp puffs off her lips, and I love the way her cheeks deepen in that sexy flush I can’t get enough of.
Her knuckles are white, her body stiff with resistance, but her thighs…fuck, she’s parting them for me by a couple more inches. I take advantage and finally slide all the way home into her drenched core. Hot damn, she’s tight. Pure. I’m desperate to be the first man to push between her legs and steal her innocence.
And I’ll treasure it forever.
“You should eat,” I say, nodding toward her full plate. “You’re gonna be busy later.”
She lifts her gaze to mine, and I can’t stop the tiny smile from taking hold of my mouth. Her eyes widen as the innuendo behind my words springs to the surface. Across the table, Jake sets his glass of water down with a heavy hand. I don’t bother glancing his way; I already know he’s glaring again.
“So, Sadie,” the wife of some schmuck sitting next to Jake says, “do the two of you have a date in mind for the wedding?” The woman’s words ice my veins, and I withdraw my fingers from Sadie’s most intimate spot.
What a way to kill the mood.
Sadie stiffens beside me, and I catch the panicked look she darts in her father’s direction, as if he can help her. Her trust in that man is misplaced; Joe Sawyer will probably drag her down the aisle, kicking and screaming, if she doesn’t put a stop to this bullshit now.
Jake clears his throat. “We’re still discussing the particulars, Mrs. Ferris.” He settles his possessive gaze on Sadie. “Though I must confess to hoping for a Christmas wedding.”
“That is a fantastic idea, JJ,” Joe speaks up from the head of the table.
All the while, Sadie is stone still at my side. Now she’s gripping the table with both hands, and if I thought her knuckles were white before, that was nothing compared to now. Her chest is unmoving, and I’m sure she’s holding her breath while she stares at her plate.
I swing my gaze between Jake and Sadie’s father as they go on about rings and engagement galas, venues, and even locations for the honeymoon.
And I can’t take it anymore.
Rising to my feet, I grab my glass of champagne and a spoon, then tap that fucker against the crystal. Everyone falls silent, all eyes on me.
“Forgive me for interrupting this charade, but how about we cut through the bullshit already?” Several people gasp, and Sadie’s father…well, I’m sure I’m about to be tossed out on my ass.
It’ll be worth it in the end because I can’t let them do this to her.
“Sadie has no plans to marry this jerk,” I say, pointing to Jake and his reddening face across the table. “Not only did he fail to ask her if she wanted to marry him, but he can’t keep it in his pants. Just ask his assistant.” Setting the glass and spoon onto the table, I step back. “C’mon, Sadie. Let’s get out of here.” I’m reaching for her hand when her father’s booming voice halts me.
“How dare you ruin this night for JJ and my daughter.” He rises and jabs a finger toward the entrance of the dining room, and the front door beyond. “I want you out of my house!”
“Gladly,” I say with a barely contained sneer. “But Sadie’s coming with me.”
She rises to her feet, but Joe’s thunderous baritone freezes her to the spot. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady? Your mother and I raised you better than this.”
I’m waiting for her to tell him she’s an adult, her own fucking person, and can make her own fucking decisions. But she doesn’t do any of it. Instead, she apologizes.
“I think we should go. I’m sorry if I ruined dinner.”
I want to throttle her. No, I want to spank the hell out of her ass. If anyone here should be sorry, it’s her father and his favorite chump. Before I can speak up again, she’s practically dragging me from the dining room, her desperate fingers curling around my arm.
Only the tears escaping the corners of her eyes keeps me quiet as I follow her outside into the bitter cold.