Page 30 of Until Then

I button the center of my jacket and nod. One corner of my mouth curls. If tonight is going to end the way I want, I plan to start earning that mouth. Now.

While the other groomsmen make their way around the bridesmaids, I cut through the center. A few of the ladies say a quick hello. Being family of a couple like Briar and Tyrell, most couldn’t care less how famous anyone is.

I slow my steps when I pass my wildfire, tilt my head slight enough to graze her ear with my lips, and whisper, “You play dirty.”

I don’t mind the little breath she sucks in, but it’s quickly replaced with a narrowed look. “Meaning?”

I hum, using one knuckle to lift the pearl necklace around her throat, and lean my mouth to her other ear. “This dress is a hazard to our agreement. How am I supposed to keep the bounds of our truce when I remember what these curves feel like in my hands?”

Her lips part and her tongue dances behind her teeth like she might want to snap back some kind of retort, but can’t summon the words.

Perfect.

One shot, Noah. Zero, Hayley.

I stretch my arms and adjust one set of cufflinks, flashing her my best devious smile before striding off with all the swagger I can muster.

If she knew the tension knotted in my gut, she’d crumble to her knees laughing. The ability to play a part, the study of schooling my features, serves me well.

The notion of wanting Hayley isn’t an act, but to let out the truly awkward, boisterous, sometimes moody, sides of me are not the answer to stealing another shot with the woman. Never mind that she went home with that guy once, clearly it wasn’t enough to keep her.

I can be the smooth man who has no issues letting the woman he wants know his intention.

And if I’m to take anything from the look of stun on her face, I’d say it’s working.

Only once I turn away from her and join the other groomsmen next to Tyrell, do I blow out a long, nervous breath.

I smile. Pose. Smile some more.

We move aside so Briar can stand with the bridesmaids. I don’t miss the glare, sharp and jagged, Hayley shoots my way when she’s positioned for the photo.

I cross my arms and wink.

Okay, new potential outcome—she’s either going to propose to me by midnight or murder me.

It’ll be fun to guess which one. Honestly, the way we collide again and again, I think her desire could shift between the two every thirty seconds.

Soon, the photographer combines the entire wedding party. I could kiss the man when he insists each numbered pair stands by their assigned partner—all about the aesthetic of walking down the aisle photos, I’m told.

I don’t care what the reason is, it’s placing me next to Hayley.

The faux-confident grin is back in place when I press my chest against her back. “You look uncomfortable, Wildfire.”

“You. Stop it.” She lifts a finger over her shoulder, scolding me like I’m a kindergartner, but never looks at me.

“Stop what?”

“Wildfire. All the sexy whispering.”

“You think I’m sexy?”

“I . . . I didn’t say that.”

“Not a denial.”

Hayley groans and I promptly decide she can’t make sounds like that again, not unless my hands are on her and her mouth is locked with mine.

“What happened to a truce?”

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