Page 98 of Until I Own You

Bridget and I sit across from one another at the long table.

We’re out celebrating Nate’s birthday, the whole crew.

The dinner table is separated into three factions: those who are in relationships, those who are not, and those who are in a secret relationship that might not be called a relationship but sure as hell feels like one.

I’ll give you one guess at the people who are in that last category.

“I feel a little out of place,” Edwin grumbles.

Sonia giggles, then leans into Edwin’s shoulder. “You’re young in spirit,” she says with a sweet smile.

“Gag,” Abigail mutters on my right.

I give her a humored smile.

Jack keeps his eyes on his cocktail menu. “One day, when you’re older, Abigail, you’ll understand.”

Abigail takes her napkin and chucks it across the table at Jack. Talk about sibling rivalry.

I glance back at the taken end of the table. Nate, Mason, and Laney are all fawning over each other. As per usual.

Leaving only one person I haven’t attended to.

Bridget. Straight across from me.

I know I’m in control of the situation, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about going out with our friends.

The few times we’ve been around others, it’s been casual. Sure, we’ve had family dinner with our parents. Other than that, though, it’s run-ins at the club. Her with her friends, me with mine, a little bit of light chatting.

Nothing so formal as this.

I worry my lower lip with my teeth. I want to get this right. Don’t want Bridget to feel nervous or worried at all.

I’ve got this.

More importantly, I’ve got her.

Except it’s hard when she’s looking so fucking beautiful in a violet sweetheart neckline dress, her neck glaringly bare. Would look even better with a delicate chain around it, locked by a lock. A lock only I hold the key too. A collar marking her as mine.

Her long-lashed green eyes cast shadows over her cheeks as she looks over her cocktail menu.

Out of the corner of my eye, the server approaches Nate at the end of the table to start taking drinks.

It’s do or die. “What do you want, Bridget?”

Her eyes shoot up.

“To drink, what do you want to drink?” I press.

Bridget glances back at the menu, then to me. “Um…”

“Why do you care?” Abigail asks with a tone that makes me uneasy. “You want to copy whatever sugary drink she gets?”

Bridget furrows her brow. It’s endlessly cute. “I don’t get sugary drinks!”

“Sure, Miss Pina Colada, extra Pina.” Abigail leans her chin in her hand, smiling like an imp.

I ignore Abigail, eyes hardening on Bridget. If she wants a choice, it’s now or never.

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