Page 36 of Worth the Try (Atlanta Granite #1)

Elodie

W e’re almost late to the gala, and I put the blame solely on Ansel.

The man had me against our bedroom wall in nothing but the jersey the second Sharon retrieved Rosalie.

And he kept me there, feasting on me, until I’d come from his mouth and then on his cock.

When we got in the shower, it was my turn, backing him onto the in-shower seat and kissing those gorgeous thighs, then licking my way to the proud cock jutting between them.

Then he pulled me up and turned me around, practically impaling himself on me as I rode him, my own thighs shaking with the effort.

There are a few cars ahead of us when we pull up to the museum where the gala is being held, and I catch my breath. “Holy crap.”

Ansel chuckles, pulling a hand into his and kissing it. “You’ll be amazing.”

It’s far more than I was prepared for. It turns out that this gala isn’t just for the Granite.

It’s also for the city’s pro football team, which means the amount of press and fans on either side of the red carpet is absolutely insane.

People are ten-deep, lining the street and yelling as we close in.

I crane my neck to see the people exiting in front of us and instantly feel underdressed despite the way I’m decked out.

I opted for a royal-green silk and chiffon gown that gave Bridgerton vibes and set my ample breasts on full display.

At Kari’s insistence, and with Ansel’s credit card, I also rented a diamond and emerald necklace and earrings, and a diamond tennis bracelet.

The entire process made me queasy, but the two of them practically bullied me into submission.

Now, looking at the scene before me, I’m incredibly grateful.

We pull into position, and Ansel throws the car into Park. “You look absolutely stunning, Elodie,” he says. “I’m the luckiest man here.”

I smile softly. “ You’re the one who looks amazing.” He was mouth-watering in a form-fitting classic tux that had been perfectly tailored to him. “Though I do kind of wish I could see that tattoo,” I tease.

“I can make that happen.” He grins wickedly, then leans over to kiss my cheek. “Ready?”

I take a deep breath and nod. “Ready.”

He opens his door, and that cues the man on my side to open my door. The man holds his hand out, and I take it, my entire body breaking into a cold sweat. “Good evening, Miss,” he says, a bright smile on his face.

“Hi,” I gulp.

Cameras flash and voices yell, and I blink, temporarily blinded. I grip the man’s hand hard, then let go, horrified. “I’m so sorry,” I say, wincing.

Ansel appears on my other side, taking my hand and guiding me close, then tucking my arm into his like I’m his personal rugby ball. He smiles down at me. “You’re doing great.”

Hot tears appear immediately, and my knees are literally shaking. “I can’t do this,” I whisper, panicked.

“Look at me,” he says, his voice low and calm.

I obey, even though I’m hyper-aware of the cameras still flashing. Capturing everything.

“We will leave right now if you want to. But I know you, and you’ll be so mad at yourself if we do.”

A strangled laugh leaves me. “You’re right.”

His mouth quirks up. “Shall we?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the tears away as I nod. When I open them, Ansel is smiling softly at me. “Let’s do it.”

“That’s my brave girl,” he says. Then he smiles, all mischief and secrets. “I’ll be sure to eat your pussy extra well as your reward.”

I choke back a scandalized gasp as he turns me, and we step back onto the red carpet.

“Remember to smile.” He grins wolfishly down at me.

We walk slowly, stopping to pose every few feet. Any time I try to pull away so that the photographers can get a shot of Ansel alone, he grips me tight. Finally, we make it up the stairs, where one reporter stands.

“Ansel Miles,” she says with a bright smile. “Welcome to the City of Refuge Sports Gala.”

“Thank you.”

“And who did you bring with you?” she asks, her eyes lighting on me.

Ansel’s hand moves to my lower back as he answers. “This is Elodie Cole.”

I smile, hoping I don’t look as crazed and nervous as I feel. I swear, even my lips are shaking.

“Elodie, so nice to have you. Who are you wearing?”

I give her the name of the designer, and she turns back to Ansel.

“Word is that you’re being considered for the permanent coaching position for the Granite, Ansel. Can we expect to see you on the sidelines this season?”

He shakes his head. “Definitely not. I’m grateful for the opportunity to serve my team as interim coach, but I have a lot more to give on the pitch.”

The reporter gives a nod and wraps up the interview, and Ansel leads me away.

As we round the corner and begin the short walk to the ballroom, he stops and pulls me to the side, looking down at me with such love and concern that my stomach pitches. “How are you?”

I give him a lopsided smile. “I think I’m okay.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’m not shaking anymore.” I hold up my hand for his inspection.

He grabs it and presses it to his lips. “One word from you and we leave.”

I nod, but he keeps me in place.

“I mean it, Elodie. I love you. None of this matters.”

“Well, considering it’s a benefit for an organization that helps struggling families, I’d say it matters a great deal.”

His eyes soften. “Your heart is amazing, you know that?”

With a shrug, I say, “Any organization that’s feeding children is worthy. That’s not my heart; that’s just humanity.”

With another kiss to my cheek, he straightens and leads us in, his hand warm and steady on my back.

And thank goodness, because I nearly trip over my own two feet at the glamor we walk into.

It’s beyond excessive, the attendees dripping in jewels and custom-made clothing, servers darting here and there with trays of champagne and appetizers.

The athletes are larger than life, and the people by their side are stunning.

“There’s Jake and Carter,” Ansel says, nodding toward an area near one of the four bars in the room. “Let’s go say hello, and I’ll grab you a drink.”

“Just one,” I murmur as we go. I’m not interested in anything but sobriety when I get in places like this.

I think it’s all the old pageant training that kicks in, that need to be on , to always know what’s going on around me and be ready to pivot based on whoever I’m talking to.

Probably not the healthiest approach, but there you have it.

We approach the small circle, and Allyson smiles knowingly as she takes me in. “You look beautiful. A little flushed, perhaps?”

I narrow my eyes playfully at her. “Something like that. You must be Jake,” I say, turning to her fiancé.

He’s a massive man, easily one and a half of Ansel. His long black hair is slicked into a low ponytail, and he looks extremely uncomfortable in his tux. But he gives me a friendly grin as he shakes my hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Wanna tell me where I’m going?”

Allyson whacks his arm playfully. “She’ll do no such thing.”

Kari appears with Sam, the two of them having declared they’d be each other’s dates for the evening, and Lennox shows up with a date as well. After my glass of champagne is empty, Ansel holds his hand out. “Dance with me.”

With a smile, I let him lead me to the dance floor, and we wrap our arms around each other, swaying to the music. “Have I told you how stunning you look this evening?” he asks, his expression heated as I meet his eyes.

I smile. “You have. But you can say it again.”

His hand is warm and sure on my waist, the other holding mine in a light grip as he moves me across the floor. “It’s true. This dress…I’d like to rip it off and sink into you right now.”

My cheeks heat. “Mr. Miles, that’s quite the mouth you have on you.”

“I’d rather it be on you,” he growls softly in return.

“You’re a great dancer.” I follow his lead easily, his steps sure and natural. And he smells utterly delicious, a hint of woodsy cologne this evening on top of his usual masculine scent.

“Changing the subject on me?” he teases.

“I have to, or I’ll drag you into a darkened room and let you have your way with me,” I counter.

His eyebrows rise, the scar slashing through one of them serving only to make him look like a nineteenth century rake. “And this is a bad thing…why?”

I swat at his chest, and he captures it, pulling it up to press a kiss to my hand. With his eyes trained on mine, his tongue licks at the seam between my first and second fingers, a reminder of his considerable talents. My core heats as my mouth opens in a gasp.

He chuckles. “You’re leaving that dress on later.”

“Promise?”

“Mm,” he hums, his eyes alight. “You’re a good dancer yourself, you know.”

“Part of my pageant training,” I respond. “Mom made sure I knew the basics of all types of dances.”

He grunts noncommittally, having learned enough about my relationship with my mom to not be much of a fan. “Was that what you did for the talent portion?”

I scan his face for any hint of teasing, but there’s none. “No. I played flute.”

“Do you still play?”

I shrug. “I can , but it’s not good. I donated the instrument to an organization similar to this one after college, actually.”

He smiles, his warm brown eyes crinkling. “I love your heart.” He pauses. “And I love you .”

The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t make them come out. I rest my head against his chest, and he pulls me tighter. “There’s no place I’d rather be,” I whisper, hoping it’s enough. Loving him is utterly and completely terrifying. But also…perfect.

We leave the dance floor after another song, and the night goes on as we rejoin our friends at a table near the back of the ballroom for the seated dinner. All around us are athletes and their dates, fans who’ve bought or won tickets to the event, and other people with way too much money.

“It’s weird, right?” Kari says, leaning over as the desserts are served.

“Which part?” I joke.

“I get that this is benefiting a charity, but couldn’t we just take all the money we spent on clothes and rentals and the event itself and funnel that into the organization? We’d probably double or triple the impact.”

I appraise her with a grin. She’s gorgeous tonight, resplendent in a ruby-red gown and gold jewelry, half her black bob slicked into finger waves and the other half swinging free to her chin. “Spoken like a woman with a vision.”

She shrugs, her eyes sliding to Lennox and his date before darting away. “I just think these are silly, but I have to attend them.”

I stand, and Ansel rises with me. “I’ll be back. Powder room.”

The restroom is empty when I walk in and take care of things. But when I exit the stall, there in front of me, like the worst nightmare in the history of nightmares, is Lauren.

Shit.

This can’t possibly end well.