Page 74 of Sleepover

Chapter 35

Elle

Sawyer and I drive down to Portland together. In the car, I tell him I sent a proposal for the divorce book to five agents. I dashed out the proposal in an all-night writing spree Thursday night, fueled by Oreos, milk, and—I’ll admit it—Kahlua.

He gives me a high-five and tells me I’m fucking awesome. I’m pretty dubious about the whole operation, but if both he and Hattie think it’s worth a shot, who am I to argue?

It is a strange experience to check into a hotel with a man other than Trevor, the first time I’ve ever done it. But satisfying, too. Life goes on, and in better ways than I could have imagined when I said goodbye to my old existence.

We swipe open the hotel room door. Sawyer steps in ahead of me. His eyes go from the beds to me and back again. There is dark intent in his eyes. I shiver all over, but there are makeup and hair and other such things to do, if I’m going to be at my best at my ex-husband’s wedding.

“I feel ya, mister,” I tell him, holding up a talk to the hand palm as he takes a step toward me. “But it’s three thirty and we have to be at the church before five.”

“Later,” he says roughly, his hand skating over the zipper of his jeans, not quite touching the bulge there.

I almost lose my resolve, but I remind myself that we have all night tonight. And that it will be all the better for the waiting.

“Okay if I commandeer the bathroom?”

“All yours.”

When I come out, I am transformed. My hair is piled up with curly tendrils framing my face, I’ve done my makeup pale and smoky, and I feel like a princess. Or a sorceress. Especially when I see the look on Sawyer’s face.

“That dress,” he says. His dark eyes sweep over me from head to toe, gratifyingly hot, and I’m glad Hattie wouldn’t let me send him a selfie ahead of time. It was indeed worth it to see his in-person reaction. When his eyes reach the bottom of their exploration, they snap back to my face, almost alarmed. “Those shoes. Do you know what those shoes make me want to do? They make me want to take them off with my teeth.”

“Don’t make the pink lace panties wet,” I caution, then halt him with a wagging, warning index finger when he steps closer, as if to lay hands on the pink perfection. “No touch. Later.”

His eyes narrow, but he obeys.

Speaking of taking things off with my teeth, Sawyer is wearing a tux, and oh, my God, he makes it look good. The tux shirt is perfectly fitted across his broad, curved pecs, the jacket looks like it was cut to order for his wide shoulders, and the pants hug his slim waist and hips.

I might drool a little.

We are going to tear each other apart tonight.

Or as Sawyer puts it, a moment later, “This is the best fucking foreplay ever.”

He offers his arm gallantly, and we leave the room side by side. We ride the elevator down—managing not to do anything to rumple either of us as it descends sixteen floors—cross the lobby, and climb into Sawyer’s truck.

He turns to me before he starts the engine.

“How are you feeling about this? Because if you don’t want to go, we can just bail out.”

“That’s mighty tempting,” I admit. “Part of me can’t believe I’m about to watch my ex-husband, who cheated on me, get married to his new wife, who he cheated on me with.” A flutter of nerves chases through my stomach.

“And the other part?” Sawyer asks.

I smile at him. “The other part of me says, hell no! No way I’m bailing out on going to a party with a guy as hot as you.”

When Sawyer smiles, when he really smiles, it’s like the sun coming out. “Plus, there’s how hot you look in that dress. And those shoes,” he says, with heartfelt appreciation.

“And the whole after-party business…”

He starts the engine and jams the gas to draw out an unnecessarily loud roar, making both of us laugh.

Ten minutes later, we’re at the church, and it’s showtime. The minister takes his place, the music begins, and the wedding party procession begins. Trevor comes first, on his parents’ arms.

I feel a sharp stab of betrayal. Not just at the sight of Trevor in tails, but because his parents once walked him to the front of a church to meet me, and even then, they already believed Helen was the right woman for him.

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