Page 23 of Perfect Praise

Russ’ hand, which is still on my waist, pulls me into him slightly. I angle my head away and use his shoulder to try to push myself off him to no avail.

“I’ll still be here though,” he says quietly. “Lydia and I aren’t serious. I made a mistake, and I’m sorry. You know we’ll always love each other.”

He’s never going to let me go. He’ll hover, bait me, lure me, chase me, only to discard me again and again—and I’ll let him. Because being wanted and liked by someone wins out over everything else, even when it’s fucked up.

Right as I’m about to let a tear break through, contemplating my fate or maybe accepting it, because I feel myself soften into him, another arm wraps around my waist so quickly, I’m two feet away from Russ before my brain can process the motion of events. Now, I’m wedged against a plane of warm muscle with no understanding of how I got here.

Russell’s winning smirk falls, while my heart pounds against my sternum because I almost fell for the smoke and mirrors momentarily.

“I don’t appreciate you touching her,” Locke says as harshly as I imagined.

“What the fuck do you know?” Russ says like we’re all just joking around. “She’smygirlfriend.”

With my body now against Locke’s instead, I siphon every bit of energy I can from him. “Ex-girlfriend,” I say, stronger than I feel.

Russ tips his drink toward me as if there’s no difference in the two words and corrects his slip of the tongue. “Ex-girlfriend,” he repeats and looks up to Locke. “And we aren’t finished talking.”

“You are,” Locke says sternly. His lips brush my hair, and his voice is so soft I think for a minute he’s communicating to me through my mind. “Just turn around. Do you need another drink?”

I can’t see Locke’s face but by the way Russ is staring above my head with hatred spearing from his pupils, I don’t think either one has broken eye contact.

“Yes, please,” I reply, letting out a breath.

My body has a mind of its own and sinks further into Locke as I turn away from Russ like I don’t care that he’s sitting there.

And I may not.

Because Locke’s hand stays on my waist as I spin and settles on my hip.

I raise my eyes to his and imagine this is what all-consumed looks like. Dark, brooding irises never straying from mine longer than necessary. A body part always connected in some way when possible.

Locke would make me feel likeeverything.

“Another red wine would be great,” I say breathlessly. I’m too close to his face, and he smells like leather and amber and fresh air. It must be something that costs a thousand dollars a bottle and laced with the magic of hypnotism.

Locke smiles, not fully, but just enough that his right dimple makes an appearance.

“Good girl,” he says, his voice low and just for me, his fingers pressing into my hip bone before his thumb swipes over a row of the tiny holes in my dress.

My breath just audibly catches in my throat. The spark ignites below my belly button, and I have to shift even closer to Locke to dull the ache that now settles between my legs.

My body blooms with heat I didn’t know it was capable of, a myriad of emotions running from head to toe like they’re traveling along a lightning rod.

I’m almost ashamed that he’s turned me into putty from two little words that I never knew could hold such weight against me. Besides, I absolutely should not lust after this manwho is so hot and cold that he can’t make up his damn mind about whether or not he wants to touch me.

But he looks so pleased with me, and heisstill touching me, not to mention he’s sexy as hell. I think I’d do anything he asked me to in this moment.

Also, I think I know now what I would want him to call me.

She has a praisekink.

And I’d bet my Masters green jacket that she doesn’t even know it.

Fucking hell.

What the fuck has Russell been doing? He couldn’t even figure out what gets his girlfriend off?

I run a hand over my face and glare at him over Maren’s head before he mouths afuck youto me, which I ignore. I don’t actually need to ask him the question because I know exactly what he’s been doing—being a self-absorbed jackass. He gets up and slinks over to his table when the hostess tells him his party is here.

---