Page 38 of Wolf.e

I look over and she’s sitting at the table, waving at me excitedly. She’s so beautiful in her princess gown as she called it. It’s a white classic A-cut number, but around the bodice and dancing down the train is the most delicate black lace. I remind myself it’s her wedding day and I won’t start any drama with her infuriating club president.

“Fine,” I say, standing to follow him.

“Sorry, Dell.” I put my hand on his shoulder.

He waves me off. “No worries, Brin! Dance later?” he asks, standing, completely oblivious.

“Of course,” I say, giving him a friendly side hug.

I follow Kai, shooting daggers at the smug face ready to greet me.

It took about five seconds of me watching Brinley touch Layla’s preppy brother to know that wouldn’t be happening all night long. Dell might seem like the straight-laced man she thinks she belongs with, but that’s because he gets all his fucked up fetishes out in his spare time. There are mommy issues like I’ve never seen in his internet search history.

Brinley will sit with me because I might go fucking postal if I have to spend one more goddamn second not breathing in her sweet scent. She’s probably not going to come willingly but, whether she likes it or not, Brinley Rose Beaumont is already mine. Something about this woman has me wanting to strip her down, defile her and put the pieces back together in a way that suits only me, as if there was her life before she came apart for me and her life after, and that takes more time than just one night.

When Brinley reaches the table, it’s obvious there’s only one available chair. It’s to my left, in between myself and Layla. I don’t look up; I just pull it out for her. She sighs and I can practically hear her roll her eyes at me.

It’s fine. She can be mad at me while she does what she’s told.

Layla looks at her and smiles. “You’re sitting with us? Cool.”

Brinley smiles back at her, rosy lips parted, her dimples on full display in her dewy cheeks and I’m bewitched. I’ve never seen any living thing look so fucking beautiful. The dress she’s wearing tonight is the same shade of blue as her wide, almond-shaped eyes. It’s the lightest, most enticing blue I’ve ever seen, and it hangs off her spectacular shoulders and then drifts down over her slender arms as if it was made to personally torture me.

When I came into the chapel and saw her standing there, long tanned legs on display, the open back of her dress, thick, raven hair in soft curls held up halfway by the twist of a pin, I nearly bent her over one of the pews. I will openly admit, the depth at which I’m thinking about this woman is enough to make me question my own fucking sanity, if that was something I did. But I don’t. I simply want her and I don’t care why.

Brinley’s eyes meet mine and the smile falls from her lips. She reaches to the center of the table and grabs the bottle of red, pouring herself a hefty glass as the first appetizers are wheeled out for dinner.

“Dell is such a sweetheart, Lay. I’m so happy to be working with him,” Brinley says without looking away as she pours her red. The smug little smirk on her face is a toy I’m about to start playing with.

“You two were cute over there, he likes you,” I say, and the underlying tone of sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed by her.

I feel the eyes of my guys on me, particularly Jake who’s sitting beside me listening attentively.

Layla laughs. “No, they’re just comfortable, they’ve known each other since we were kids,” Layla says, speaking for Brinley before turning to say something to Ax.

I lean in so only Brinley can hear me. “Come to think of it, you’re not really his type.” My lips hover over her earlobe “We know everything about everyone, remember? And to be his type, you’d have to be much older and be ready to spank him if he doesn’t follow your every order.”

Brinley’s mouth goes from smirk to slack in one second and she looks to Dell then back to me. I lean back and sip my whiskey.

Her smug smile is gone, replaced by that flustered blush of her cheeks.

Much better.

“You’re not hungry?” Wolfe asks as he carves his own steak.

I’ve been pushing my food around on my plate and listening to everyone at the table talk about random things that show just how well they all know each other.

“Just wondering why I’m here is all,” I say, looking up at him. “Every woman in this room has their eye on you.” And some bold ones have already approached him, to which he’s said “no,” and if they don’t listen, “fuck off” but I don’t bring that up.

He chews and swallows his bite, pondering what I asked.

“Do you ever say no, Brinley?” Wolfe asks, observing my expression as I blink at his question.

“Do you ever answer a question without a question?” I ask, taking a bite of my salad.

“Yes,” he says pointedly. “Now your turn. Do you ever say no?”

“Yes,” I answer immediately before I even consider it.

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