Page 82 of A Convenient Secret

A full-body shiver rakes through me. His heat. His scent. His voice. That fucking voice will be the end of me.

No one can know.

We’re covered by a group of men, hidden from view, but still…

“How would you know? You haven’t even looked at me.” I want to face him, but he snakes his arm around my waist and holds me in place.

My heart rate goes haywire. The possessive move is everything I ever wanted, but what the hell?

“I have looked at only you all night, Seagull.”

“Hardly.” I hope he hears the figurative eye roll in my voice. Okay, the wine perhaps speaks a bit too.

“Don’t be a brat. You spent most of the night chatting and drinking with the girls. You laughed at the comedian’s performance, and had to wipe your eyes when he made that lame joke about polar bears—”

“That was funny,” I protest, all the while trying to comprehend what he is saying. Has he really paid so much attention to me?

“No, it wasn’t.”

I chuckle. “One could never accuse you of a sense of humor.”

His large hand skims my rib cage, stopping just below the swell of my breasts. A soft groan escapes him, and I realize I leaned into him.

“Perhaps, but you can’t accuse me of not seeing you.”

“Why from afar?” My voice is just a breath.

It’s strange talking when my back is to him, but I welcome it at the same time. Like I can hide my reactions. Though I’m sure he feels my goose bumps and my shudders, just like I feel his hardness.

“Two reasons.”

“Care to share?”

“If I got close to you, I would have ripped this dress off and done things to you, Lily, that are not noble, nor appropriate.”

My breath hitches. It’s a good thing his arm is wrapped around me because my knees buckle. “That’s one. What is the second reason?”

“There are still traces of a decent man in my darkened soul. Traces that stop me from destroying you. You’re so young and vibrant, and seeing you today with your friends… I shouldn’t tie you to me and my baggage.”

I make to step forward, and he loosens the grip, so I can turn and look at him. It’s like facing a storm head-on. “Shouldn’t?”

He traces my cheek. I feel the brush of his touch down in my panties.

“You think I didn’t even look at you tonight?” He utters a disbelieving chuckle, shaking his head. “Tonight or any other day, I see you. I see you… humming a song while you tidy the kitchen. Reading to my kids and laughing with them… How you stifle your yawns so you can read one more page of your book… The way your eyes sparkle with curiosity every time you discover something new… Or how they retreat to the past you hide… Or how you tag on your sleeves just before you start spitting out words of anxiety… How you always see a glass half full. I fucking can’t unsee you, little Seagull, and I’m over trying.”

And there goes my poor heart. “You’re done trying?” A grin tugs at my lips.

“Unless you stop me.” The intensity of his gaze is scorching, imploring, lethal.

I don’t want him to stop… but his attention is almost too much. “You barely looked at me for months, and now I put on a pretty dress and you…” He what? What does it even mean he’s done trying? “It makes you shallow,” I tease, trying to insert some lightness.

He gives me his signature look, which is a mixture of boredom and annoyance. “You married me for money.” He deadpans.

I giggle. “Fair enough. We are both shallow.”

We stare at each other for a moment, my entire body awakened by his closeness and attention.

I remember my earlier need. “I need to go to the lady’s room.”