Page 37 of All The Way Under

She grinds back against me and circles her hips when I’m already teetering on the edge.

“Inside me. I want you with me all night.”

Saylor turns to the side to meet my gaze. Her body was made for me, and those ocean eyes tell me her heart was too.

My grip tightens on her hipbones at the same time she readjusts her palms on the door. I thrust into her a few more times, and I spill inside her with a groan that echoes in the small space.

“Keep going, I’m…” she says, breathy. “Almost there.”

Wincing against the desire to stop, I slam into her once and then again, and I feel her orgasm hit, the muscles in her body tightening.

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” she says, gasping the words.

I look down as I pull out and immediately regret the hot load I just put in her.

“This is going to leak down your legs all night.”

“Maybe that was the point,” Saylor says.

I wrinkle my nose. “We haven’t had sex in a couple of days, so there was…a lot,” I explain, trying to be tactful.

She looks at me with big eyes, wet lips, and absolute reverence.

“I’m trying to say those beautiful gold shoes are going to be slippery when wet.”

Saylor reaches between her lips and slips two slim fingers inside.

My whole body tenses. The sight makes me frenzied.

A shark circling blood. I bite back the desperation because I know we’re on a timeline.

She pulls her fingers out, and some of my cum is dripping down her fingers onto her palm.

She licks it up, then licks her lips, without tearing her gaze from mine.

“You’re really just torturing me now.”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m just trying to solve the problem you pointed out.”

My heart pounds against my ribcage. “I love you too,” I say. “In case I forgot to respond while I was distracted.”

Saylor slips her dress on and picks up her purse that was on the floor, and I dress quickly.

When we exit, Angie has a knowing look on her face as she loads another silver tray with flutes. This tray has Aperol Spritzes as well as champagne. The people in the other room are going to be loaded, and I’m fearful about keeping myself in check if someone says something inappropriate.

Saylor stops in the powder room to freshen up and put on lipstick. I adjust my bars and make sure my trident pin on my lapel is straight in the mirror when she’s finished. I’m vaguely aware that both of our phones are buzzing, but there’s no time to check them.

I hold the door open for Saylor. She straightens her shoulders, and I watch, curiously, as her face changes, a mask covering who she really is. The smile is not quite right, the stance a little prouder, eyes completely blank of any emotion.

She enters the room, and unfortunately, this is a moment the room has been waiting for.

There are about seventy-five people in here, and conversation is buzzing along with the music.

Even if there’s not a spotlight, it feels like there is.

I crook my arm, walking up next to her, and she links her arm with mine.

We don’t speak as we begin walking through the crowd.

I hear our names as the crowd parts to allow us through. I spot Mark right away. I also spot the other exit point because it’s flanked by guards. My brain doesn’t allow me to process this situation. I’m on alert. It’s the only way I can keep my heart rate down. Treat this like work.

We run into Bitsy first. She hands Saylor a spritz.

“Nice to see you again. Especially looking like that,” Bitsy says, nodding her head to me.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I reply. “Thank you for the tea leaves,” I say.

After she realized our shared hobby, she had some sent over from her house. I spoke with her earlier today as they were setting up for the party at depth about many things. Saylor said to be careful, but she just seems like a horny old lady who likes tea—and men half her age.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” she says.

Her red lipstick is smeared on her front teeth.

“Saylor, darling, there’s a surprise for you in a little bit,” she adds.

Her tone changes completely when she speaks to Saylor.

Bitsy grins, takes a drink off a silver tray, and heads into the crowd to bid on the auction pieces from Bronwyn’s gallery.

“I think my dad went rogue and bought me another sailboat. I told him not to,” Saylor says, leaning toward me to speak so no one else hears. “I’m not ready for that yet, and I wanted to buy it for myself.”

I wrap my arm around her. “He feels bad. Just because you have a boat doesn’t mean you have to sail it around the world. You could just trick it out with all your projects and take small sails to test things out.”

“You’re going to sail with me? Help me with all the projects? Even though you said, what did you call it, a fucking dreadful pastime ?” Saylor raises one brow. “Did I get that right?”

I exhale, stifling a laugh. “We are giving each other grace for the things we said while in a cage. That’s what we decided.”

“Fine, fine, but you were definitely meaner.”

“Because I didn’t know you yet. It takes me some time,” I chide.

Mark is in conversation with Bitsy now. Catherine and Nolan are at the buffet table, people watching. I can tell they’re entertained, so I don’t worry about them for long. Saylor is staring at someone by the bar. He’s laughing, loud, meant to be noticed.

She visibly pales.

“I might have left one, tiny detail about Bitsy out,” she says, voice shaking.

I narrow my eyes at the man. He sees Saylor and brushes down the front of his tailored suit, not even sparing a glance at me.

“Go on,” I say, intuition telling me before she says it.

“My awful ex, Archie. Well, Bitsy is his mother. She convinced me to date him in the first place.”

Saylor takes a sip of her drink. Then another, looking anywhere but at him or me.

“He’s by the bar, staring at me like I owe him money.”

“Ah,” I say. “He knows we’re a thing,” I say, motioning between our bodies.

Her blue gaze flicks with an emotion I hate. Sadness.

“You don’t get it, Brody. It doesn’t matter.” Shaking her head, she whispers, “My family is tactful for the most part. Some of these people just take what they want. They’re relentless. I was going to marry him because they were so convincing, and I’m honestly almost positive he hated me.”

She holds up a hand when I go to argue.

“It’s messed up, I know. I had no idea he was going to be here. He’s predictable, though. He’ll drink too many Negronis, then move on to expensive tequila, and he’ll black out outside in a pool chair. He’s harmless.”

Anger rises, and I eye Mark. He seems to be enjoying himself with Bitsy. Jesus effing Christ. Of course he is. But he’s looking around, and I can tell he’s looking for someone.

“It’s fine.”

“Don’t say it’s fine when I know it’s not.” Saylor finishes her drink, puts it on a tray, and engages in small talk with a woman who approaches her.

I don’t even comprehend what they’re talking about because all I see is red. Archie is staring at Saylor like she belongs to him. There’s no respect for the man on her arm.

I can overlook a lot of things, but disrespect and a low moral compass when it comes to basic human decency? Fuck that. I have to remind myself not to cause a scene. It would accomplish the opposite of what we need.

“Excuse me for a minute, Saylor,” I say. “I need to ask Mark something.”

She glances at me warily, but nods, returning to her conversation.

I’m almost to Mark and Bitsy when something tells me to check on Saylor.

I look over my shoulder to see Archie crossing the ballroom, people separating to make way.

Her smile drops, and the corners of her eyes turn down when he stops in front of her.

She doesn’t breathe. She tips her chin up, and it trembles.

“Hi,” she says.

Archie takes a microphone from a man next to the woman Saylor is talking to.

“Here is the woman of the night. Saylor Wyndham, everyone.” His voice is even worse when he speaks instead of laughing. “I’m proud to be one of her most trusted friends, Archie.”

He is rattling on about memories when Bronwyn runs up to me.

“We tried calling her, and I had Nolan and Mark try calling you, trying to tell you this was about to happen. Where were you two?” Bronwyn says, tone whispered but words rough.

No sense in lying now. “The elevator,” I say. “Tell me what?”

“Good god,” Bronwyn hisses. “There’s no service in that damn elevator. Archie and Bitsy had this insane plan all along, and we found out about it by happenstance when Archie was talking to one of his friends. No one could find you two.”

“Saylor Wyndham, will you marry me?” Archie’s voice booms through the room, loud and pompous.

Bronwyn holds out her hands, extending them to Archie on his knee, presenting Saylor with a box.

“This. We were trying to tell you this was about to happen.”

“What the fuck?”

My heart sinks, slips, slides, and I think it stops for a beat or two. Saylor looks around the room, but I’m in the back. I can see Bitsy, and she’s glaring at me, a half smirk playing on her lips.

“We’re here together,” I stammer. “Bitsy talked to me all afternoon.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bronwyn says, echoing what Saylor tried to tell me.

It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. I’ll always be a lowly military employee. A man not sufficient for a Wyndham.

Nolan and Catherine slide up to where Bronwyn is explaining the semantics of this fucked-up world. But all I hear is how I’ll never truly be able to fit in here. How I’ll never be good enough for Saylor.

Love doesn’t mean anything here.

Saylor grabs Archie’s wrist and drags him out the side door without responding to his proposal.

“I have to get the fuck out of here right now,” I say, and I don’t recognize my voice.

Mark is there in a flash, covering for us as we leave.

The hallways are colder than they were mere hours before.

Bronwyn tries to get me to stay, but I can’t.

Not right now. The betrayal wasn’t by Saylor, but it might as well have been.

The chandeliers burn low in the hallway as we exit the mansion of lies and cheats.

When I’m in my truck, and Mark is next to me, I scream.

I scream so loud that the guards jump from outside the closed windows.

Nolan and Catherine get into the back seat.

“It’s not fine. It’s not okay. But this needed to happen,” Nolan says, voice low.

I meet his eyes in the rearview, and it’s a small salve in this moment.

“I know,” I say, voice breaking.