Page 38 of One Wealthy Wedding

Stop imagining it.

“You can dance on a table at home. We’re supposed to be married, remember? We’re going to brunch tomorrow, where we will see and be seen.”

“You’re so boring now, Theo. Marriage has turned you into an old man.” She turns and sways into me. Her eyes are half-lidded and swirling with secrets. Danger. Her breasts press to my chest, and I nearly let her lead me into the crowd.

Fuck this. Cat is playing with fire.

I set my lips to her ear. “You want to find out just how boring I am? Keep pressing up against me.”

Her eyes fly wide. She steps back.

“That’s what I thought.” Cat Peterson doesn’t want me. She wants a good time, a story for her friends, a brief walk on the wild side. Same as she did at nineteen.

She cocks her head. “Give me one dance. For my bucket list. And I’ll go to brunch with you tomorrow.”

The demand that we get our coats and leave dies in my throat.

“It would be good for our reputation as a married couple, don’t you think?” Her red-painted lips curve. Who is this woman? Little Cat Peterson is gone. In her place is a hurricane. I don’t know what to do with her, and I’m a stumbling half step forward before I can say no.

She takes it as an invitation, looping her arms around my neck and pressing close. Fuck. My whole body feels electrified. Every point of contact between us is heated. She’s soft and melting into me, and if I close my eyes, I can sink into this feeling. No. I need to regain control.

“This isn’t how you dance, princess.” I say the words directly into her ear, where she smells like amber perfume and warm skin. An older version of the girl I knew, but still distinctly herself. “Maybe this is what they taught you in those fancy dance classes, but here, at Hedonism, we do this—” I spin her until she’s caged by my body, her back to my front, her silky dress catching on my belt buckle.

She’ll hate this. She’ll be stiff and awkward, and she’ll make me stop. Because while we call it dancing, it feels a hell of a lot like—

She loops her arms around my neck and arches back into me, and my thoughts screech to a halt.

Sex. It feels like sex, especially with the way I can run my lips down her arm, the way her skin trembles under my mouth. And if sex with Cat is half as good as the way she sways and arches and breathes, then I’m done for.

“We’re leaving,” I say the second the song ends. I’m hard under my jeans, and I want to push her dress up over the curve of her heart-shaped ass and bite it.

I ignore the clamoring of my body, wrap Cat’s hand with mine so she can’t get distracted, get our coats, and hustle her into the Porsche.

“Nice car,” she murmurs when I sink into the driver’s seat. She’s running a finger along the leather upholstery, her eyes still half-lidded. She’s drunker than I thought, then. “Should you be driving?” she asks.

“I didn’t drink tonight. Just watched TV at my brother’s.”

“So you are boring now.”

“I’m trying something new.” I turn right, the car humming pleasantly under me.

“What’s that?” Her voice is a low murmur in the car. Her scent fills the small space, and the distance between us feels reduced to nothing.

“I’m turning over a new leaf. Partying less. The marriage is part of it.” Maybe my business partners will take me seriously now.

“Hmm. How’s that going?”

“Not well,” I say dryly. “It’s been twelve hours, and I had to drag my wife out of Hedonism.”

I can see her smiling out of the corner of my eye. “I don’t recall asking you to come get me. How did you find out where I was, anyway?”

“Lane,” I say shortly. “She posted a photo on social media.”

“And you stormed in like an avenging angel. Why?”

She makes it sound like I have an ulterior motive. “I’m trying to improve my reputation, not have you ruin it.”

She makes a disbelieving sound. “No one even knows we’re married.”

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