Page 100 of Dear Future Husband

“Thank you,” he mumbled into my shoulder. Which I would’ve found endearing if not for the way his hold caught my arm between our bodies.

Sam eased back enough so my arm could escape, but he continued to hold me against him as he still stood between my legs. His face was so flushed red I could almost feel the heat of his blush radiating from him.

“Maybelle, could I—may I—kiss you?”

I tensed at the odd thought this might be his first kiss. I batted away the intrusive idea and placed my hands on his chest. Then I entwined my fingers into the cotton of his shirt.

“Yes,” I said, pulling him to me.

Sam’s kiss wasn’t hasty, it was slow. It wasn’t hungry. It was tentative. His kiss wasn’t overwhelming, but sweet and simple. One of his trembling hands lifted to cup my cheek while the other rested against the desk underneath me. Our kiss followed a gentle rhythm, like a lullaby.

It was soothing, and it was precious… But that was it.

I tried to scoot into him, mold my limbs against his. I searched with my body for a connection, a spark, a jolt—anything. I came up empty-handed, even as his tongue prodded my mouth open for more.

That’s when the office door crashed open, making me yelp while Sam leapt a solid five feet away.

I couldn’t believe my eyes as Trey stormed into the room, past Sam and up to my perch on the desk. He stopped before me, replacing Sam in the spot between my legs.

His green eyes were ablaze.

“Mayhem, sweetheart, it’s past your bedtime,” he grated out through gritted teeth.

He wouldn’t dare. Oh, but he would.

His large arm snaked around my waist, lifting me off the desk and to my feet. I planted myself on the spot and glowered up at him. I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off.

“You can yell at me on the way home, love. Now, move.”

He had my hand in his, tugging me out the door, leaving poor Sam behind.

In less than a minute, Trey had us downstairs, out the front door and amongst the parked vehicles. I recognizedBear’s truck immediately. We hiked around it, putting the vehicle between us and the still very vociferous party.

I finally ripped my hand from his. “What the hell, Trey?”

He didn’t heed me any attention. His phone was out and against his ear.

“Trey!”

He put a finger up for me to wait. I nearly lost it. I wanted to snatch his phone and chuck it into a brick wall, or better yet, his head.

“Bear, you busy? —Want to do me a favor and take Maybelle home? —I appreciate you.”

He hung up the phone.

I was growing thoroughly impatient. I fisted my hands at my side, staring daggers into the side of Trey’s face until he finally turned to me.

“Sam? Really?”

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about, or just be a jerk?”

A muscle in his jaw feathered as he raked a hand through his caramel hair and pivoted away from me.

“Trey,” I demanded.

He spun back. “Why him?”

The unspoken question in his face made me stumble.