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“This engagement has turned into a disaster. An overcrowded, fancy, over-the-top disaster.” I’m pacing back and forth, the rhythmic clicking of my heels making a consistent sound that is somehow soothing to my nerves.

“Not the engagement itself,” Cohen reminds me, straightening his tie. “Just the engagement party. I told you this would happen the moment my mother got her talons into the preparations.”

I roll my eyes. “I told you so isn’t helping me right now.” It’s only been a mere two weeks since Cohen placed the gorgeous diamond ring on my finger, but his mother has somehow managed to pull off a grossly exaggerated version of the little engagement celebration that admittedly would’ve taken me ages to plan.

He offers me a rigid grin, stepping closer to pull me against him. “Hey, easy, all right? I didn’t mean anything by it other than the truth—Mom has blown this whole thing out of proportion.”

“She took a thirty-person guest list and managed to invite the entire dang town.”

I’m whining, and I know it. But damn it, Cohen’s right; his mother did blow this whole thing out of proportion—epic proportion. I’m not exaggerating when I say the whole town was invited. Hell, we had to rent the community hall instead of just having a backyard barbeque at Cohen’s house like we’d initially planned. “I’m sorry, but I don’t even feel like this party is ours anymore, if that makes sense.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” he says soothingly, tugging me closer. I can feel his fingertips tracing small circles on the small of my back, and I sigh from the alleviating effects of his touch. “This is bigger than I expected, too, but there isn’t much we can do, Vi.” His hand comes up to caress the edge of my cheekbone. “We need to make the best of it. So, I’ll make you a deal.”

The corner of my mouth quirks upward. “I usually like making deals with you.”

“You’ll like this one.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Make it through the next four hours of mingling amongst the entire population of Garrison and half the residents of Prendiville—who are here just as much for the free food as they are to congratulate us on our engagement, by the way—and I will promise you...tonight, we’ll have a little party of our own. Guest list: Just you and I.”

I grin against his lips as Cohen kisses me, sealing the promise as though it’s somehow now the gospel truth. “Just you and I, huh?” I nip tenderly at his bottom lip. “I think I’ll like this kind of party.”

“I guaran-fucking-tee you will.” His mouth leaves a trail of kisses down the side of my jaw.

“So cocky.”

“So sure.”

His kisses have turned from light and suggestive to hungry and demanding. His hands make their way to my hips, and he’s running his fingertips up and down the curve of my side. This dress isn’t low-cut or overly revealing, but the fitted bodice and above-knee length of the skirt hug my body in all the right places.

And as Cohen’s roaming hand slips under the hem of it, caressing the tender skin of my bare thigh, I realize it also gives him very easy access to exactly what he seems to be looking for.

“Cohen—” If it’s supposed to sound like a warning, or a plea to stop, I fail miserably. Instead, his name leaves my lips like a breathy confession, and the word only encourages him.

“Sounds to me like you need a little preview, Vi.”

There’s very little room in this bathroom, and Cohen knows it. It’s his house, after all. And that only makes the mischievous smirk on his face widen as he backs me up against the vanity, his hands now gripping my hips under the skirt with a renewed strength.

The sudden change in his eyes, the animalistic glint that shines within them, makes every muscle within the deepest parts of my core clench deliciously.

“Aren’t there still other people downstairs?”

“To hell with them. We’ll be quiet.”

“Co, we’ll be late.” Again, my words are said without fervor or admonishment.

One of his fingers dips under the hem of my panties, and I gasp as he lets his hand hover there, teasing me without actually touching me.

“Only if you keep stalling.”

“Cohen—” Another plea disguised as uncertainty.

His one hand stays strategically where he’s placed it between my thighs. The other, however, comes up to press one firm finger against my lips. “Shh,” he whispers. “You’re wasting precious time.”

He wastes no time in immersing his finger into my damp folds, and I gasp. “Oh, fuck, Cohen,” I mumble against his index finger.

His hand near my face lowers down to my throat, not clutching it, but holding me firmly in place while his other one finds the sensitive bud of my clit and begins to rub it rhythmically. “There is nothing fucking sexier than a swear word on your lips and your body in complete submission to me.”

Cohen’s voice has changed, too. Huskier, darker.

It sends a shiver down my spine, but without consciously doing it, my back arches, and I push my hips forward, silently begging for his finger to ease the intense desperation for release that his touch has awakened inside me.

I’ve begun to breathe heavily, squirming under Cohen’s grip. I can’t resist him, can’t make the physical longing that courses through my veins subside, can’t get close enough. “Oh, God. That feels so good.”

He trails his hand surprisingly tenderly up the side of my throat, then uses his thumb and index finger to grip my chin. He forces me to look at him, to see the barely contained fire in his eyes.

If I thought I had a choice at this very moment, I am mistaken. Because the wicked determination and need to control my body as he sees fit is burning brightly in his eyes. The gaze he pins me with leaves no room for negotiation.

Cohen is going to make me shatter beneath his touch, and he’s going to do it how and when he wants to.

Which, judging by the furious circles he’s rubbing against my swollen clit, I’d say he wants me to scream his name as soon as possible.

“Come on, Vi. What’s the matter?” he taunts me, seeing my eyes flutter as I struggle to control my body’s reaction to him. “You’re wet, baby. So goddamn wet. Don’t you want to come?”

Without warning, he slides his finger downward, deeper into the slippery folds of my pussy, disappearing inside me.

A desperate moan falls from my lips, and I struggle to jerk my head away from him, unable to handle the searing dominance in his eyes.

But his grip tightens slightly, and his eyes narrow. “Look at me, Vienna,” he commands. “Look at me, and come.”

I whimper. God, I’ve never wanted to come as badly as I do right now—as desperately as I need to—but I hold on, feeling the telltale tightening and clenching as my inner walls constrict around Cohen’s finger.

His eyebrow arches, the corner of his mouth turning up slyly. “Ah, that’s how we’re playing it?” He leans closer, and I think he’s going to kiss me.

But he doesn’t. Instead, I can feel the heat of his breath as he whispers, “I said come, Vienna.”

He pulls his finger from within me, only to slide another one in with it, burying them deeply as his thumb comes to rest on my swollen bud.

I gasp, faltering as my knees buckle under the scorching, consuming sensation that pulses through me. Every synapse firing in my brain is overwhelmed with the burning desire that’s boiling my blood, aching for me to give in to the fast, relentless thrusting of Cohen’s fingers as they coax my release closer and closer to the edge.

Cohen leans one hip against me, pinning me against the vanity, holding me upright, impaling me again and again with his long, adept fingers. “I won’t ask you again,” he hisses.

His thumb presses down on my clit and begins to flick it aggressively, in time with each in and out motion of his fingers. He’s through waiting, through allowing me to resist the agonizing desire that’s built up so tightly.

His sensual assault is too much, too fast. It’s consuming, and I’m unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his hands and the way the heat of his skin mingles with the slick, drenched heat of my own.

“Cohen!” I can’t contain it, and my orgasm rips through me. His hand clamps over my mouth, but his fingers don’t stop, milking every wave of release and aftershock from the deepest depths of my core.

Painstakingly slowly, his fingers retreat from inside me, and his eyes cool and soften to one of muted satisfaction and pride. “You look so gorgeous when your body’s clenched around me.”

“And you look like the cat that just ate the canary.” I push him away gently. “Do you think anyone heard us?”

“Even if they didn’t, there’s no mistaking that blush that’s in your cheeks, Vi. You wear the just-fucked look like a rockstar.”

I turn around to look into the mirror. He’s right, but that’s not what I’m focused on. It’s him, in all his smug glory. “You’re pretty happy with yourself right now, aren’t you?” I ask wryly.

“There isn’t anything I love more than making that sexy little body of yours bend to my will.” He slips his hands around my waist, hugging himself to me from behind.

I can feel his hardness pressed up against me. Purposely, I grind my ass back against it. “Bend to your will, huh?” I grind harder against him as I smooth out my hair, staring at him through the mirror. “Serves you right being left turned on like that, then.”

Amusement alights in Cohen’s eyes. “Oh, Vi, I can wait till we get home tonight, don’t you worry about that.” He leans in close, his lips pressed seductively against my ear. “The thing is, can you?”

“I turn around abruptly in his arms, eyeing him. “You don’t think I can resist you and the sexuality you seem to exude?”

“I think I like being able to control how you react to that sexuality I exude. Your words, not mine.”

It’s my turn to show amusement as I stand there, staring up at the man that I’ve loved for so many years I’ve lost count. There’s a glint of humor in my eyes this time, and I purse my lips together to contain my reaction to his confession. “You’re definitely cocky, Cohen Bradley.”

“No. Just definitely sure, Vienna Anderson.” He grins. “Or, better yet, future Mrs. Vienna Bradley.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Oh, are you wielding veiled threats, baby?” He leans down and kisses me, smirking just as obnoxiously as he did before our impromptu rendezvous.

“Not at all.” I turn around to face the mirror again, winking at him through it before getting prepared to head downstairs to the ridiculous party that awaits us. “I’m making very clear promises. There’s nothing veiled about them.”