Page 37 of One Wealthy Wedding

“So?” He shrugs and switches sides with the foam roller.

“She’s at Hedonism,” I say darkly. “I know exactly what goes on there.”

He smirks at me and then winces as the roller nears his knee. “You don’t like her, remember? Why do you care if she’s at a club?”

“She’s my wife. It’s embarrassing. I’m cleaning up my act, and we’re supposed to be madly in love. Can’t have her out ruining my reputation.” I’m grasping at straws. I know it, and Cole knows it. But he doesn’t push me. He just laughs and points to the front door.

“Keys are on the hook. You can take the Porsche. Not the Ferrari. Don’t touch the Ferrari.”

“I’m a very good driver, old man.” I frown at him.

“Not when you’re in a state, you’re not.” He raises his brows in challenge, before I grab the keys to the Porsche and walk out. I am in a state, because my hands grip the wheel with a little too much force as I head downtown, and I blow at least one yellow light. I get to the Meatpacking neighborhood more quickly than I anticipated, slam open the door, and drop my keys with the valet, who looks thrilled about the prospect of driving Cole’s sports car.

The bouncer greets me by name, which might not be a mark in my favor. Do I come here too much? I probably do. The familiar warmth of the club envelops me, and I move through the back hallways like a shadow. I’m wearing all black—black shirt unbuttoned at the throat, black jeans, black boots.

Cat better be on the main floor and not in one of the back rooms. If she’s in one of the back rooms, I swear—my thoughts short out when I see her. The shifting lights on the ceiling paint her in stripes of gold and black. She’s so hot. I’m transported back to the summer after junior year. I was outside the pool house where my mom lived, pissed at being back but still enjoying the sunshine, and I heard voices. My mom rounded the corner with Cat, and my jaw dropped. She was nineteen and totally unaware of how her skimpy shorts begged for me to push them down, or better yet, rip them down the middle. Lust blazed through me, bright and scouring, and I scowled at her for making me feel something.

I’m scowling now. That dress she’s wearing is so short that I wouldn’t need to rip it. Anyone could pull her into the crush of bodies on the dance floor and be inside her in a second. Not me. Never me. I stride toward her right as a server approaches with a tray of shots. Cat takes one with a smile, and I scowl harder. She beckons a guy over, and his hands go to the hem of his shirt.

Oh, hell no.

“What is this?” My voice comes out sharp and loud, and she stiffens before turning on her heel. Sooty lashes flutter over her big brown eyes, and those pink lips curve up in a sinful smile. The Sphinx has nothing on my darling wife.

“Oh, hi, sweetheart. We’re about to do body shots. I’m sure you can find a nice girl somewhere over there.” She waves her hand and turns back to the guy, giving me a view of her back, where her dress dips nearly to the top of her butt. He’s ogling her and grinning. I see red. I reach over her shoulder, pluck the shot from her grasp, and glare at him. “Get the fuck out of here,” I growl.

She whirls, eyes flashing. “Theo, come on.”

“You want to do body shots, princess? You do them with me.”

Her mouth parts. Good. I’ve shocked her. She’s going to say no. Cat Peterson is all bark and no bite. She doesn’t want a single hair out of place. I can’t imagine her licking a stranger’s stomach in public.

Say no, princess.

“Okay.” She smiles broadly, like this is just another day. “Well, get on with it.” She gestures to the couch.

“Hold this.” I shove the shot into her hand and start unbuttoning my black shirt. Her eyes widen. What did she think was going to happen? She’s definitely never done a body shot before, and I don’t know what possessed her to start now.

A crowd is gathering as I strip, but I hold Cat’s gaze as my shirt falls open. I lie on the couch, prop an arm behind my head, and hollow my stomach.

“You’re a pro at this, aren’t you?” She licks her lips.

“I’ve done my fair share of body shots,” I say. This isn’t special.

“Okay.” She shrugs, ignoring the crowd around us and the hoots and hollers.

“Pour it on my stomach,” I say in a low voice. Her fingers ghost over my abdominal muscles, and sparks light under my skin. I tense.

She pours the liquid ever so carefully, drops to her knees, and sets her lips to my skin. Fuck. It’s everything I can do to keep my body from jerking. Her lips are soft and warm, and the alcohol is cool. She sucks it up like a pro. Her mouth on my abs feels connected to my dick. This is bad. She swirls her tongue over my skin, even though she’s already sucked up every drop. The coolness of my skin where the liquid pooled is quickly turning to heat. Pure heat as she licks up my abs. A groan comes from my throat. Thank fuck she can’t hear it over the music. Another slow lick, and my cock is thickening in my pants. I scramble up. Teasing Cat is one thing, but being out of control with Cat? No way.

“What’s wrong?” She swipes at her mouth, her eyes glazed. Must be the alcohol.

“I don’t need you licking me with half of Manhattan watching.”

“All right.” She shrugs and walks away.

I stumble after her and grab her by the arm. “We’re leaving.”

“But I want to dance. I still have to dance on a table.” She tips her head back and moves her body. My mouth goes dry. I can see down her dress. The perfect swell of each breast. No bra. Her nipples are hard against the silk. The rest is shadow, but I can imagine it.

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