Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
How'd I end up here?
Champagne slides down, silk and sin. I swipe my lip, raise the empty flute. Mocking toast to my own stupidity, because danger flirts and I flirt back.
“I’m fine,” I answer, as the waiter refills my glass.
Asher's words echo. “I did if I didn’t want her to know I wished it was you.” The fuck does that mean? Why now? Why here?
“Such a gorgeous pair!” I don’t realize Camille is talking to Parker and I until I find her annoying smirk fixed on me.
“How's wedded bliss?” She giggles, nestling against Asher. “Do tell.”
My fingers bite into the suede chair before I force myself to relax. Until Parker's arm snakes around my shoulder and then they're digging back in. Jesus Christ.
Warmth from the alcohol floods my bloodstream as I tilt my head toward hers, deliberately languid. “Like everything else in this world. Not without an expiry date.”
Silence.
Luce's thigh finds mine.
I laugh. “Kidding. Like your crack about my age.” I bury my smirk in champagne. Past her shoulder, Asher's got his own grin tucked behind knuckles while he nods at whatever the new guy is talking about.
“Wife…” Parker warns, unbuttoning his shirt while smiling at Camille as she rants about something trivial. “Is there something you're not telling me?”
“No.” I melt into his embrace, only he chooses this moment to capture my lips with his.
He kisses me again before turning back to our guest opposite him and losing themselves in political drivel.
My eyes land on Asher and everything stops for a moment. His eyes are pinned on Parker, his drink paused to his mouth, and the corner of his lip curled in a snarl. If you didn’t know him, you’d miss it.
Rage.
Parker and I have never been touchy in public. This is probably the first time Asher has seen any kind of affection. So much so it threw me off.
I rub my hands down my dress and check my ruby red lipstick in the reflection of my glass. Anything to distract anyone from catching Asher red-handed.
Jord and Lucinda exchange a look before Jord leans into me. I already know what they’re thinking.
I beat him to it. “You can both stop looking at each other like I'm a volatile child about to detonate.”
Pushing up from my chair, I kick off my shoes, abandoning them beneath the table. Swiping up my glass, I make my way to the pool, ignoring the bite of air that snaps over my skin.
Rolling the end of my gown, I lower my legs into the water and sit on the edge.
My phone vibrates in my bag and I pull it out to see a new message.
Unknown: Asher is engaged? Is that Jealousy I’m sensing?
He knows.
A strained laugh escapes before I can swallow it. I have no choice but to tolerate it.
No. He's a friend.
I fumble inside my bag, fingertips searching until they close around my Zippo. The flame snaps open and the familiar, sweet coil of Mary Jane fills my nose.
I inhale, my muscles relaxing when I exhale.
“You hate this.” Asher lowers beside me.
“I do.” I laugh, blowing on the end to ignite the ember. Even from this distance, the rain of lights seems ridiculous. “Does that look like Christmas to you?”
He plucks the joint from my fingers without asking, lifting it to his mouth and smirking around the end.
“It does. This a theme or something?” He hands it back. “And why didn't you come to the first Games today?”
I take another drag, letting smoke curl between us. “You seem well looked after.”
His jaw works, that tell of his when he's fighting what he really wants to say. The fairy lights illuminate his face, turning his features into something dangerous. Beautiful. Fuck.
“That's not,” He stops. Starts again. The muscle in his throat bobs. Then that smile breaks across his face, the one that makes my chest tight. “What about game two?”
I nod. “I'll be at the next one.”
“Good.” He steals the joint again, our fingers brushing. Silence, before gesturing out to the lights again. “You didn't answer my question. You theme dogging Mr. Claus?”
My laugh dissolves into a cough after I take another hit. “Definitely not.”
When he takes it from me this time, his finger brushes mine. That knot that's been pulling tighter in my gut all week is about to snap.
He finally takes the hit, squinting through the smoke. “Parker won't stop looking at me.”
I don't bother turning around because I already knew he would be.
“It's his paranoia.” I shake my head when he offers it back to me.
“He have that often with you? Or am I special because I'm friends with him?” When I fail to hide my laugh and turn back to him, my train of thought dies. He's staring at my lips, his body angled in close and his leg positioned to cage me in. It looks intimate.