Page 18
Story: Sinfully Yours
Because for a second—just one fleeting, reckless second—I forget that this is all pretend.
It's easy to get lost in the act, to slip into the role of the devoted boyfriend when Ava is standing there, flushed and radiant, her green eyes glinting beneath the soft glow of the chandeliers. When she looks at me like that, lips slightly parted, a hint of something unreadable flickering across her face, I almost let myself believe this is real.
But it's not.
I clear my throat, forcing a lazy smirk as I reach for the champagne flute in her hand and take a sip before passing it back. "Careful, sweetheart," I murmur. "Wouldn't want you getting ideas."
Ava lets out a breathy laugh, but there's something in her expression—something hesitant, like she's unsure whether she should keep playing or call me on whatever the hell that was.
Before either of us can figure it out, a voice cuts through the hum of conversation.
"Well, isn't this unexpected."
I turn, already fighting the urge to sigh.
And there she is, Rebecca Kingsley, a socialite with a penchant for sharp words and sharper stilettos.
Rebecca has been circling the Willow Creek business elite for years, attaching herself to whichever power players offer the most social capital. And right now, she's watching Ava with thinly veiled curiosity, her red lips curving into something smug.
"Ava Bennett," she purrs, tilting her head. "Didn't think I'd ever see you at one of these."
Ava smiles, but it's the polite, practiced kind. "Rebecca."
Rebecca lets out a thoughtful hum, faux-pleasant, before her gaze flicks to where my arm is still draped over Ava's waist. "And with Liam Carter, no less." A beat of silence, then, with a saccharine smile, "Didn't take you for the commitment type, Liam."
Ava stiffens beside me, just slightly.
And just like that, I'm done playing nice.
I tighten my grip on her waist, letting my fingers press into the small of her back, grounding her. "I guess you don't know me as well as you thought," I say smoothly.
Rebecca's brows lift, intrigued. "Clearly."
Then, because she's incapable of leaving well enough alone, she turns back to Ava with a condescending little laugh. "I have to admit, I always wondered if you'd end up settling down, but I figured it'd be with someone… safer."
I don't know what pisses me off more—the way she says it, or the fact that Ava doesn't immediately roll her eyes.
I see it then.
The way her fingers tighten around the stem of her glass. The flicker of something she tries to hide behind that carefully composed expression.
And I realize… she's heard this before.
She's used to this.
People underestimating her, writing her off as the Bennett brothers' kid sister, the baby who's never taken seriously.
It pisses me off more than it should.
So I lean down, brushing my lips against her temple, slowly and deliberately. "Oh, she's anything but safe," I murmur, just loud enough for Rebecca to hear. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."
Ava's breath catches.
And Rebecca?
Rebecca falters.
It's subtle, but I see it in the way her smirk wanes and grows cooler, the way she shifts slightly, not expecting me to push back.
It's easy to get lost in the act, to slip into the role of the devoted boyfriend when Ava is standing there, flushed and radiant, her green eyes glinting beneath the soft glow of the chandeliers. When she looks at me like that, lips slightly parted, a hint of something unreadable flickering across her face, I almost let myself believe this is real.
But it's not.
I clear my throat, forcing a lazy smirk as I reach for the champagne flute in her hand and take a sip before passing it back. "Careful, sweetheart," I murmur. "Wouldn't want you getting ideas."
Ava lets out a breathy laugh, but there's something in her expression—something hesitant, like she's unsure whether she should keep playing or call me on whatever the hell that was.
Before either of us can figure it out, a voice cuts through the hum of conversation.
"Well, isn't this unexpected."
I turn, already fighting the urge to sigh.
And there she is, Rebecca Kingsley, a socialite with a penchant for sharp words and sharper stilettos.
Rebecca has been circling the Willow Creek business elite for years, attaching herself to whichever power players offer the most social capital. And right now, she's watching Ava with thinly veiled curiosity, her red lips curving into something smug.
"Ava Bennett," she purrs, tilting her head. "Didn't think I'd ever see you at one of these."
Ava smiles, but it's the polite, practiced kind. "Rebecca."
Rebecca lets out a thoughtful hum, faux-pleasant, before her gaze flicks to where my arm is still draped over Ava's waist. "And with Liam Carter, no less." A beat of silence, then, with a saccharine smile, "Didn't take you for the commitment type, Liam."
Ava stiffens beside me, just slightly.
And just like that, I'm done playing nice.
I tighten my grip on her waist, letting my fingers press into the small of her back, grounding her. "I guess you don't know me as well as you thought," I say smoothly.
Rebecca's brows lift, intrigued. "Clearly."
Then, because she's incapable of leaving well enough alone, she turns back to Ava with a condescending little laugh. "I have to admit, I always wondered if you'd end up settling down, but I figured it'd be with someone… safer."
I don't know what pisses me off more—the way she says it, or the fact that Ava doesn't immediately roll her eyes.
I see it then.
The way her fingers tighten around the stem of her glass. The flicker of something she tries to hide behind that carefully composed expression.
And I realize… she's heard this before.
She's used to this.
People underestimating her, writing her off as the Bennett brothers' kid sister, the baby who's never taken seriously.
It pisses me off more than it should.
So I lean down, brushing my lips against her temple, slowly and deliberately. "Oh, she's anything but safe," I murmur, just loud enough for Rebecca to hear. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."
Ava's breath catches.
And Rebecca?
Rebecca falters.
It's subtle, but I see it in the way her smirk wanes and grows cooler, the way she shifts slightly, not expecting me to push back.
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