My Rules (Kingston Lane Book 2)
My Rules: Chapter 19

“So . . .” Antony raises his eyebrows. “How was it?”

“It was . . .” I smile dreamily. There are no words that accurately describe it.

We’re at the mall. I need to pick up a few things, and then we’re grabbing a quick lunch before I go away. The boys want a debrief of last night.

“So . . . ,” Henley prompts me again.

“It was . . .” I put my hands in my pockets. “Incredible. She is . . .” I smile into the distance like a lovestruck schoolboy. “Seriously fucking wow.”

“Look at you being all pathetic-like.” Ant smiles as he slaps me on the back. “Good for you.”

Henley gives me a halfhearted smile. “That’s great, man.”

“What’s that look?” I ask as we get to the toiletries section.

“What look?” he asks.

“Yeah, I noticed that look too,” Antony chimes in. “What’s the problem?”

“I don’t have a problem,” Henley grumbles. “What are we looking for here?”

“I need a new toiletries bag.” My eyes roam over the section. “I don’t see a toiletries bag, but I do see something I need.” I pick up a basket and walk over and take a bottle of lubricant off the shelf and throw it in.

“What’s this for?” Antony digs it out of the basket and holds it in his hands as he looks it over.

“Overusage.” I hold the basket out for him. “Put it back.”

He inspects the bottle. “I never get why it’s called lubricant and not lubricunt.”

“That’s a very good point.” I smirk. “You should do a start-up.”

“I’d buy it,” Henley replies as he picks up some talcum powder and looks at it for a beat longer than normal.

“What?”

“This is the one Dad used.”

I snatch it off him and throw it in my basket. “I’m buying it for you.”

“I don’t have sweaty balls.”

“I beg to differ.” I look around the store. “Where the hell are the toiletries bags?”

“Why do you need a new toiletries bag? Don’t you have a ton of them, like everyone else?”

“I want a new one.” I keep looking around. “I’m doing everything new from here on out.” I pick up some deodorant and throw it into my basket. We look around some more.

“What time do you leave?”

“Flight’s at three.” I smile. “I can hardly wait to get there.”

Antony smiles. “I like you like this.”

“Calm down, Romeo.” Henley sighs, unimpressed. “It’s been one night.”

“One perfect night,” I correct him.

“I think he’s been with enough women to know if something feels right,” Antony replies. “The entire romantic world isn’t doom and gloom, you know, Hen?” He throws his hands up. “What are you talking about, anyway? Look at you and Juliet. I mean, if you found someone to love your grumpy ass as much as she does, that proves there is definitely hope for the two of us. And now . . . with the baby coming.” He squeezes Henley’s traps and shakes his shoulders. “Big Daddy.”

Henley rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying, take it slow.”

“You go as fast as you need to.” Antony elbows me with a smirk. “Don’t listen to the grinch.”

“I’m not, don’t worry.” I pick up some shampoo and throw it into my basket.

“Okay, what else do you need?” Antony asks as he looks around.

“I need to learn how to be romantic.”

“Impossible.” Henley looks at me deadpan.

“It’s not impossible.”

“Look it up in the dictionary, then.”

“It’s in the dictionary?” I frown as we walk between the shelves.

“Yes.” He keeps walking in front. “It’s in between the words stupid and gullible.”

Rebecca

I bend down to zip my suitcase, and I feel a throb deep inside. My body is tender this morning, suffering the consequences of our rough night.

Images of Blake on top of me come floating through my mind. My legs were up around his shoulders, his cock so deep that I felt every single inch that he gave me.

The look on his face as he came.

I smirk to myself; I can still feel that damn piercing, and good lord . . . it was good. Who am I kidding: it wasn’t good.

It was fucking phenomenal.

And now I get him all to myself for an entire week. I smile as I keep zipping up my suitcase.

Things couldn’t be going any better.

Before he left this morning, he thought I was asleep. I could feel him looking me over as he lay beside me. He pulled the blankets up over me and tucked me in before softly kissing my forehead and whispering for me to have a good day.

My heart.

I knew we’d get along because of how strong our friendship is, but the physical side of us has blown me away. I never dreamed it would be this good or that he would be so tuned in to what my body needs.

To be honest, I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t been with someone for so long or because I’ve just never had this level of connection before.

It feels different.

Like a storybook kind of swoony, the feelings I’ve been searching for.

Have a good day. I hear his whispered words again as they play in my head, and I glance at my watch.

Two hours until I get to see him.

The Porsche pulls up out front, and from my place at the window, I bounce up and down. I race back into the kitchen and check myself out in the reflection of the oven.

Knock, knock.

“Come in,” I call.

The door opens, and there he stands, all six foot three of heavenly man. He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “There she is.”

“Hi.” I beam.

“Hi.” He steps forward and takes me into his arms. His lips gently take mine. “Are you ready for Cancún?”

“I am.” I smile as his lips drop to my neck. His hands go to my behind, and he drags me onto him. “Stop doing that, or we are going to miss our plane,” I murmur as he gets rougher with his neck kissing.

“I’m just getting you ready for the plane.”

I giggle as I try to pull out of his arms. “I don’t need to be turned on for a plane ride, Blake.”

“I need my girl turned on all the time.”

My eyes meet his.

His girl.

A thrill of excitement rushes through me. I really need to get a handle on this fangirling; it’s getting out of hand.

“My bags are here.” I grab my suitcase, and he takes it off me. “Anything else?”

“Nope.” I grab my handbag and follow him out the door. “Did you water your plants?” I ask as we walk to his car.

“Yes, Mom, did you?” He smirks as he puts my suitcase in the trunk.

“Yes, Dad.”

We smile stupidly at each other, as if this is the best thing that ever happened to us.

Maybe it is.

We get into the car, and he grabs my hand and puts it on his thick quad muscle as he drives. He chats away, and every now and then, he mindlessly picks up my hand and kisses my fingertips while I try my hardest to act cool.

Is this really happening?

This is already the best vacation of my life.

“This is the captain speaking. We are preparing for landing. I trust you’ve had a pleasant trip, and thank you for flying with us today.”

I smile over at my travel partner, and he gives me a sexy wink. Blake and I have drunk way too much champagne, and we’ve laughed and flirted for the entire six-hour flight.

“I still can’t believe we flew business class,” I lean over and whisper.

“I can’t believe you’ve only ever flown coach.” He widens his eyes.

I sit back in my seat as my mind returns to my marriage and the way things were. We never flew business; we never went to fancy restaurants or took exotic vacations. And it’s not like we didn’t have money; John was a top-paid surgeon with a giant family trust fund. We just never did anything that would spend unnecessary money, and at the time, I thought it was because we were being wise and saving for a rainy day. Now I know better—we were just saving for John’s mistresses’ bank account. The one he used to wine and dine his side pieces.

I’ve since found out that all those conference trips he went on were actually a cover for taking them on exotic holidays, and I’d bet my life they flew business. They went to the fancy restaurants that we weren’t allowed to go to because it was stupid to spend that much on dinner.

Looking back on all his betrayal, knowing that he treated them with more respect and took them to better places than me was the information that hurt me the most.

He was happy to spend money on a random chick and yet was a tight-ass with the one woman who was desperately in love with him.

The person he was supposed to love the most—his wife.

Blake reaches over and takes my hand in his, pulling me out of the sad memory, and I smile over at him. “Where are we staying?” I ask.

“Somewhere fabulous.”

The car pulls into a grand driveway, and I peer through the front window. The gardens are immaculate, and flaming torches light up the sweeping driveway. Men in white suits stand around the huge fancy doors of the sandstone building.

“My god,” I whisper. “What is this place?”

“I hope it lives up to its reputation.” Blake looks around and shrugs. “So far, so good.”

The car comes to a stop, and the doorman opens my car door. “Good evening.” He smiles.

“Thank you.” I smile as I climb out, and a flurry of men begin to unload our luggage from the car.

“This way to reception,” another man tells Blake.

“Thank you.” He takes my hand and leads me through the foyer. My eyes are wide. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

“I have.” Blake gives me a soft smile as he cups my face.

Butterflies dance in my stomach. He’s so dreamy.

We walk up to the desk. “Hello, we are checking in, please. The name is Blake Grayson.”

“Hello, Mr. Grayson.” The man smiles at both of us as he types on his computer. “My name is Allan, and I’ll be looking after you today. Yes, here we are. We have you staying in the penthouse for six nights?”

“That’s right.” Blake nods.

The penthouse.

I bite my bottom lip to hide my smile, and Blake puts his arm around me and kisses my temple.

“I’ll be back in one moment, sir; I just have to collect your keys from the back,” Allan says.

“Sure.” Blake kisses my temple again.

“You are so affectionate in public,” I whisper, half-embarrassed.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m proud of my girl.” His hand slides down my arm, and he holds my hand up as his eyes drop down my body. “I mean . . . look at her.”

Oh . . .

Allan returns with the keys. “This way. Mr. Grayson. I’ll show you to your room.”

“Thank you.”

We follow him along the corridor and out through a fancy garden with a water feature and down a secluded path. “You have a private infinity pool with your own twenty-four-hour butler.” The sound of the ocean is getting louder and louder the closer we get. It must be right on the water.

I hunch my shoulders up in excitement, and Blake’s eyes dance with delight.

We get to the end of a pathway and go up some stairs. He unlocks the door, and my mouth falls open. Floor-to-ceiling glass overlooks the ocean; the furniture is all in creams, and the furnishings are luxurious.

“Wow,” I gasp.

“The pool is out here.” He leads us out onto the deck. “There’s a spa, and the phone inside is for your butler. Call him anytime, twenty-four hours; he is at your service.”

I look around as my mouth falls open. “This is stunning,” I whisper in awe.

“You like it?” Blake rocks up onto his toes, as if proud of himself.

“I love it.” He takes me into his arms and kisses me.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?” Allan says.

Blake’s lips stay locked on mine, and he waves his arm at Allan.

Allan smiles and leaves us alone.

I stare up at my beautiful man. “You’re spoiling me,” I whisper.

He takes my face in his hands. “Get used to it.”

“You nearly ready, Bec?” Blake calls.

“Just a minute.” I hold the curling iron as I finish up my hair. It’s taken longer than I expected. I had to curl it; with the humidity, it’s taken on a mind of its own. Frizzy doesn’t come close to what I’m dealing with here. I glance at myself in the mirror. I’m wearing a strapless, fitted coral dress and sky-high stilettoes. I wanted to be in the Cancún frame of mind and wear something colorful and happy.

I keep holding the iron as I try to curl the last piece. “Rebecca,” Blake calls. “We’re going to be late, babe.”

“Coming,” I call as I pull my fingers through my hair to try and calm it down.

Blake comes into view. He’s wearing a black dinner suit and a crisp white shirt with a black bow tie. His sandy hair has a messed-up curl to it, and his jaw looks like it could cut glass.

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen any man look so gorgeous.

He leans on the doorframe as his eyes roam up and down my body. “Wow . . . ,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

My stomach flutters at his reaction. “Do I look okay?”

He gives me a slow, sexy smile and walks around me, as if sizing up his next meal. Without saying a word, he drops to his knees in front of me. He slides his hands up my thighs, pulling my dress up along with it. “You look . . .” He nuzzles my sex through my lace G-string. “Edible.” He pulls my panties to the side and kisses me there. His eyes close in reverence, and he lifts one of my legs up over his shoulder as his kiss deepens. His tongue rolls through my lips, and I grip his shoulders to keep my balance.

I catch sight of us in the mirror, and my hands tousle through his hair.

Oh . . .

Fuck.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, I can’t stand it,” he whispers into me; his teeth graze my clitoris, and I shudder.

“I’m going to come if you don’t stop doing that,” I murmur as I hold his head to me.

Don’t stop.

His thick tongue strengthens its assault, and I shudder again. “Blake,” I murmur.

“Yeah, baby?” He looks up at me from his knees. His lips are glistening with my arousal, and his big brown eyes are dark and dangerous. “You want me to stop?”

I swallow the lump in my throat as I stare down at him.

“What do you want, Rebecca?”

“I . . .”

“Tell me what you want,” he demands in a whisper.

“I want to come.”

“On my face?” His eyebrow rises in that sexy way it does. “In my mouth.”

“Yes.” I nod.

He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “Good girl.” He licks me so deep that my toes curl. “I like it when you ask for what you want.” He latches on and sucks me hard.

Oh . . .

My footing falters, and I sway on my one stiletto.

How is he so good at this?

He smiles into me as he flutters his tongue, and I see stars as I throw my head back. He does it again and again until I can’t stand it anymore, and I plunge into the abyss.

The strongest orgasm I have ever had hits me hard, and I cry out. The sound of my scream echoes on the tiles around us.

He sucks me through it, then stands and bends me over the basin and pulls my dress up higher.

Somewhere in the arousal fog, I hear his pants unzip, and then I feel him slide his cock deep into my body. “I need you.” He lifts one of my legs and puts it onto the basin beside us. We stare at each other in the mirror. His knees are bent as he fucks me hard. Fast and furious, as if we are fighting against the clock, as if we shouldn’t be doing this.

My breasts bounce in my dress with every thrust, and this wasn’t in the plan.

He turns my head and kisses me deeply as his hips fuck me at a piston pace. I can feel him swelling, getting harder and harder.

This feeling between us . . .

“Oh . . . ,” he moans. “Fuuuuuck.” He holds himself deep, and I feel the telling jerk of his cock as his hands grip my hip bones at an almost painful strength.

Our kiss turns tender, and our eyes are closed as we get lost in the moment.

It’s unhurried and sacred.

A sweet moment between us, his hard body still deep inside mine, but the beast inside has been temporarily tamed.

“We’re going to be late,” I whisper against his lips.

“Do I look like I care?” He smiles.

“We have to shower.” I pull out of his grip and step back.

“We don’t have time.”

“I am not meeting your mother smelling like sex, Blake.”

He chuckles. “It’s the priest you need to worry about.”

“Blake.” I laugh. “Stop.”

“You’re totally going to catch on fire in the church.”

“Coming from you, that’s a joke.”

“Yes, it is, coming from me.” He lifts my dress over my head. “Make sure you tell him that.” I stand before him in my white lace underwear. His eyes drop down my body, and then when they rise to meet my eyes, they are blazing with arousal again. “Tell that priest how creamy and wet you are.” He licks his lips. “Tell him how good you taste.” He puts his hand around my throat and pushes me up against the wall.

The dominance of the act sends my hormones into overdrive. Adrenaline screams through my bloodstream as we stare at each other.

Dear lord.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

The car pulls up at the church, and I look around at the gathering crowd. Everyone is dressed to the nines, and people are laughing and chatting as they see each other. Lots of greetings between long-lost family and friends.

I’m not feeling so brave now.

“Just here,” Blake instructs the driver. The driver pulls over and parks the car. Blake climbs out and then holds his hand out to help me. I give him a nervous smile.

“What?” He frowns.

“Do you know everyone here?” I ask as I climb out of the car.

“No idea.” He looks across the road at the church and all the people. “Not everyone.” He takes my hand in his. “Ready to meet my family?”

I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

We walk across the road, and as we get closer, people turn to watch us.

“Oh my god,” someone pretends to whisper. “Blake brought a date.”

“Subtle.” Blake winces. “My cousins are a nightmare with no idea how to whisper.”

I get the giggles; all families are the same.

“My apologies in advance. We can leave as soon as the speeches finish.” He frowns as he pulls me through the crowd.

“It’s fine.” I smile. It really is fine. The fact that his family is just like mine is somehow comforting.

“Hello.” He nods to people as he leads me along. “Hello, Aunt Patty.” He kisses her cheek. “This is Rebecca.”

“Hello.” I smile.

“Well . . .” Aunt Patty looks me up and down. “Aren’t you just adorable.”

“I love your dress,” I tell her.

“Thank you. I have been dieting for a whole year to fit into it.” She puts her hands on her hips. “I’ve been going to WeightWatchers on Tuesday mornings at the basketball center. It costs a bomb, but I really do think it’s worth it because I couldn’t do it by myself. Frank tells me I could save my money, but what does he know?” She gives me an overexaggerated wink.

Blake’s brow creases as he stares at her, and I bite my lip to hide my smile.

“Catch you later, Aunty Patty,” he tells her as he leads me through the crowd some more. “My family are abominable oversharers,” he says over his shoulder. “Please forget everything you see or hear here.”

“Oh,” someone cries. “My shoes are giving me blisters already.” I glance over to see a young girl, perhaps fourteen, all dressed up in a pretty dress with high heels. She’s holding one of her shoes in her hand. “Does anyone have a Band-Aid?” she calls.

People begin scrambling through their purses, and my heart swells.

“Classy,” he mutters dryly. “Hello, Belinda.” He kisses the young girl. “This is Rebecca.”

“Hello.” She smiles as she holds her shoe. “You don’t happen to have a Band-Aid, do you?”

Blake plays along and pretends to pat his pockets down. “I’m afraid not.”

She turns to her mother. “I told you I shouldn’t wear these stupid shoes.”

“Blake!” her mother screeches as she looks him up and down. “My darling, you look so handsome.”

“Hi, Aunt Thelma.” He kisses her cheek. “This is Rebecca, my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

“Ohhh.” Her eyes widen to the size of saucers. “You’re official now?” She pulls me into a bear hug. “Oh, welcome to the family, you sweet child. It will be your wedding next—don’t let him get away. Will you, dear?”

Blake pinches the bridge of his nose, and I bubble up a giggle at his mortification.

Blake Grayson, the suave and sophisticated playboy, has an embarrassing family, and quite honestly, it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.

“What am I going to do about these stupid shoes?” the young girl interrupts. “Does anyone even care about the pain I’m in?”

“Not really, dear,” her mother replies as she keeps her eyes on me.

“Where’s Mom and Dad?” Blake asks as he looks around.

“Not sure,” she says as she looks around too. “Your sister Catherine has a problem with her SPANX.”

Blake frowns. “What kind of problem?”

“I don’t know,” she huffs. “Her dress is sticking to them and riding up or something. Your father went to replace some hand cream from the corner shop.”

“Good grief.” Blake rolls his eyes. “What next?”

“Oh,” I interrupt. “Blake, you should call your dad to pick up some Band-Aids for Belinda while he’s there.”

“Good point.” He takes out his phone and dials the number.

“Oh . . . you’re smart too.” Thelma smiles all-knowingly. “I can see why he’s so smitten.”

I force a smile. Remembering Band-Aids for a child who can hardly walk isn’t what I’d call smart . . . but I’ll take it anyway.

Two hands snake around my waist from behind, and Blake laughs over my shoulder when he sees who they belong to. “Hi, Mom.”

I turn to see a woman. She’s short and curvy, with the most beautiful smile. Her hair is sandy brown, and she has Blake’s eyes. “Rebecca?” She smiles.

“Yes.”

She kisses my cheek, and she has the most gentle energy. I instantly feel at ease. “This is my mom, Rosemary.” Blake hugs her.

“Hello.” I smile. “I can see the family resemblance.”

“You are divine.” She holds my two arms. “I’m half in love with you already.”

“Calm down, Mom.” Blake widens his eyes, and I get the giggles.

“Oh, I’ve missed you, darling. I haven’t seen you for weeks.” She turns and hugs him again.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he replies. “I’ve been working long hours.”

Taking photos of my feet.

Guilt fills me. I need to stop being so demanding of his time.

Blake looks around. “Where are the girls?”

“Over here.” His mom takes his hand and leads us through the crowd. “This way.”

“What about my foot?” Belinda demands as she hobbles along behind us with her shoe in her hand. “Nobody cares about my feet.”

“You got that right,” Blake whispers under his breath.

Rosemary crosses her eyes.

I get the giggles again, and something tells me that Belinda is the drama queen of the family. We walk around to the side and see three girls standing together. “Here they are.” Rosemary smiles.

Blake kisses and hugs each one. “Rebecca, these are my sisters, Catherine, Aubrey, and Emery.”

“Hello.” They all smile and shake my hand one by one.

“It’s so lovely to meet you.” Blake hugs each one, and they all begin to chatter.

I’m shocked. These girls aren’t what I expected at all. Blake is so handsome and suave that I just assumed his family would be the same way. I expected glamour models and judgment and feeling inadequate.

They’re a million times better than anything I ever imagined.

Pretty, curvy, and warm. Catherine is tall, and Emery is short. Aubrey is about my height. They look like normal girls; they feel welcoming and happy.

“It’s so lovely to meet you,” Catherine says as she takes my hand in hers. “We’ve been waiting for what seems like forever.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Blake doing a tone-it-down signal with his hand behind my back.

“There you are,” a man’s voice says from behind. We all turn to see an older man approaching us. He’s tall and handsome, with salt-and-pepper hair: Blake’s twin.

“Your dad?” I smile.

“How’d you guess?” Rosemary smiles. “Twins, huh?”

“My god, you’re so alike.” I laugh.

“In personality too.” Rosemary smiles as her eyes linger on her husband. “Luckiest girl in the world, I am.”

“I got you some cream,” he says as he hands the bag over to Catherine.

“Thank you,” she says. “Hopefully this works.”

His eyes come to me. “You must be Rebecca?”

“I am.”

He holds his hand out to shake mine. “I’m Blake. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Blake too?” I ask in surprise.

“They couldn’t think of another name.” My Blake rolls his eyes.

I smile. A weird sense of serendipity falls over me, and a few things click into place.

Blake Grayson Sr. is handsome and suave and everything that I imagine Blake’s father would be. And yet he loves a normal woman and has normal daughters. He’s normal; it’s only his outside that seems different.

Is that the same for my Blake?

Have I been reading him wrong all along?

Aubrey links her arm through mine. “Let’s go inside.”

“Okay.” I smile.

Emery links her arm through my other arm. “Off we go.”

“What about me?” Blake calls from behind us.

“You get to see Rebecca every day, Blake. Tonight it’s our turn.”

“And then I dated an artist,” Aubrey continues. “But he was all into creating and earthly experiences, and that’s great, you know? But when he’s too broke to buy a cup of coffee, and your entire relationship is based around what restaurant he won’t go to because it’s too expensive, what’s the frigging point?” She sips her champagne. “We couldn’t even go to McDonald’s without him whining about the price.”

“Ugh, that doesn’t sound fun.” I wince. I glance up into Blake’s stare. He’s sitting back in his chair with a glass of red wine in his hand as he watches me chat with his sisters. He’s wearing his black dinner suit, his hair has a bit of a curl to it, and he’s giving me the best come-fuck-me look of all time.

I smile shyly as I sip my champagne, knowing exactly what he’s thinking about. I turn back to Aubrey to try and pretend to listen to what she’s telling me. But who can concentrate when Blake Grayson is looking at you like the devil himself?

He’s so naughty.

You know those moments in life where you pinch yourself because things are going so well?

I’m in the middle of one right now.

Blake’s family is perfect—absolutely and utterly perfect.

His mom is friendly, his sisters are divine, and his father, well . . . let’s just say he’s a silver fox.

The man is ridiculously hot.

And kind and gentle and everything that I admire in a person.

His aunts and uncles and cousins, well, they’re all a little kooky, but I think that’s standard with extended families, isn’t it?

Not weird kooky, just embarrassing kooky, and I have to say I replace it all the more endearing.

“Oh my god, then she went out with a firefighter,” Emery chimes in. “And he used to come over to Mom and Dad’s without a shirt on.”

“No.” I laugh. “Surely not.”

“It’s true.” Rosemary nods before breaking into a smirk. “I mean, it wasn’t all bad. He was very easy on the eyes.”

“Mom!” everyone cries, and I laugh. Oh, I love this woman.

Blake stands and comes around to my chair. “Dancing?”

“We’re talking, Blake,” Aubrey snaps.

“I would like to spend five minutes with my girl, if that’s okay with you,” he fires back. “Get your own date.”

His girl.

I smile and put my hand in his, and he leads me to the dance floor and takes me into his arms. The string quartet is playing, and the music is floating through the room. “My beautiful witch.” He smiles down at me.

“What?” I frown.

“Well, everyone you meet seems to be bewitched.”

I smile up at my handsome date. “There’s only one person I want to bewitch.”

His eyes hold mine, and the air crackles between us.

“And who is that?” He plays along.

“Well . . . he’s tall and handsome and kind and smart.”

He smiles over the crowd on the dance floor. “Keep going. This is doing wonders for my confidence.”

“And when he looks at me, I get all the goose bumps.”

He leans in close and puts his mouth to my ear. “And how’s his dick?”

I giggle in surprise. “I have no idea.”

He pulls back to look at my face, puzzled.

“I’m talking about Blake Grayson Sr.”

“My father?” he gasps as he pokes me in the ribs, and I laugh out loud. “You wound me.”

“I’m joking.” I laugh. “I’m joking.”

He jerks me closer with his hand as a pretend punishment.

“How’s his dick?” I repeat his question.

He smiles mischievously. “Yes.”

“Incredible . . . I never knew sex could be so good.” I smile up at my handsome date. “You are giving me quite the education.”

His eyes darken as he stares at me. “Then we should go home and pound that pussy.”

I burst out laughing. “So romantic, Dr. Grayson.”

He spins me out and pulls me back in as I laugh out loud. “You have no idea.” He pulls me closer, and his lips meet mine. We kiss tenderly, and he smiles down at me.

“Thanks for coming with me.” His eyes roam over the crowded dance floor. “I know weddings are . . .”

“Fun.” I beam up at him.

“Interesting.” He kisses me again. “Let’s sneak out of here.”

I look around. “It’s not over yet, though. How do we sneak out of here?”

“You go to the bathroom, and I’ll go and tell my family that I have a headache.”

“Right.” I frown as I listen.

“You come back from the bathroom, and I’ll ask you if we can leave.”

“Ahh, so your family can’t blame me.” I tap my temple. “Smart.”

“My family won’t blame you, but I don’t want you to hear me tell them we are going home to pound pussy.”

I bubble up a giggle. “Please don’t.”

With one last lingering kiss, he releases me, and I make my way out of the ballroom and into the foyer to the ladies’ bathroom. I push through the heavy doors and look at my flushed face in the mirror. A surprised smile covers my face.

I look carefree and happy. I haven’t seen myself look this way for so long.

I float into the stall and sit down on the toilet. I hear the door bang as someone else walks in.

“Hey, did you see Blake on the dance floor just now with his date?”

My ears prick up. Are they talking about us?

“Who is she?” another woman asks.

“Oh my god, it’s so juicy,” the first woman replies. “She was married to his friend, and he stole her from him.”

My eyes widen. Fuck. They are talking about us.

“What?” the second girl gasps. “So they had an affair?”

“Probably.” The first girl snorts. “You know Blake—he always wants what he can’t have.”

I listen intently.

“He looks pretty smitten to me,” the second girl replies, and I hear the toilet flush.

“Ha, give it time,” she replies. “As if a washed-up divorcée could ever hold him. What idiot would throw away a marriage for a player?”

My heart sinks as I hear the tap turn on.

“Hey, it’s Blake Grayson. I would throw away everything for just one night with him.”

She laughs. “As would the entire female population.” I hear the paper towel dispenser turn on. “Your time will come; he’ll be single again in three months.”

“I’m totally making my move on him at Ally’s wedding.”

“Definitely.” I hear the door open. “Maybe I should call him before . . .”

“You should . . .”

The voices float into the distance as they leave.

Wow.

My breath quivers as I try to hold it together, and hot, caustic tears well in my eyes as I stare at the back of the door.

As if a washed-up divorcée could ever hold him.

I angrily swipe the tears from my eyes.

She’s right.

What the fuck am I doing?