Page 73 of Wildest Dreams

“Why?”

I felt my face heating up. “Because you didn’t like the man bun.”

She cupped her mouth. “What? When did I say that?”

“Three days ago, before I kissed you.”

“Jesus, Rhy, I was just giving you shit. That man bun made my lady bits tingle.”

I sighed. “I’ll add some extensions.”

She laughed. “No, you won’t.”

Yes, I probably fucking will, because you like it.

The thought frightened me. Since when did I care about making anyone other than my dick happy? But I hadn’t seen her in a couple days in a bid to prove to myself I did not seek her out more than absolutely necessary. Now she was here, and it was time for our charade to resume.

“You look amazing, baby.” I reached down to kiss the edge of her shoulder, which was still hot from the leftover sunrays outside. She smelled of her body lotion—coconut and a sandy beach.

“I know.” She tossed her glossy hair back. “To be honest, I should’ve charged you extra just for letting you look at me tonight.”

I bent down, my stubble sailing over the smooth skin of her cheek, raising goose bumps all over her body. “Careful with that mouth,” I whispered into the shell of her ear. “Or I’ll have to fill it with something long and thick to shut you up.”

“Really?” She tipped her chin up to stare at me, her heavy-lidded sex eyes zeroing in on mine. “You think they serve cannoli here?”

That earned her a bark of laughter from me. I couldn’t help it.

I wrapped my hands around her waist, the tip of my nose gliding down the slope of hers. “Bruce is here.” My lips moved over hers sensually, and her body sought mine, enveloping me instantly.

“I see.” She knotted her arms around my neck. “So this is all a big, fat ruse.”

“Watch where your hands are going, Coltridge.” Row’s predatory gaze locked on us from across the VIP room, eyes darkening into two pools of tar. “Or I’ll have to make sashimi out of you.”

“Stop it, Row,” Dylan chided, breaking free of my embrace. “I’m not a child.”

“You do call me daddy sometimes.” I frowned.

Row was about to pop an artery.

Bruce, suddenly there, coughed into his fist, half laughing, half choking. “Why’d you mind that he kisses your sister, Casablancas?” Bruce enquired. “They’re engaged to be married. Even I’m not that strict.”

A muscle twitched in Row’s jaw. He licked his lips. “Having a hard time letting go, I guess. I helped raise her, see.”

“Who’s taking care of Gravity?” Jolene, Bruce’s wife, asked.

I could tell by Cosmos’ smile she appreciated that the woman had remembered her daughter’s name. “My mom’s in town, and she doesn’t like big crowds, so she’s home helping me out.” Dylan stuck out her hand at Jolene, but the latter flung her arms around Dylan.

They hugged, immediately chatting about preschools with Cal.

“Tell me, Dylan.” Jolene clutched her hands. “Are you taking care of yourself? Do you use face masks? Paint your nails? Have a set time that is completely yours? Taking care of yourself is a part of taking care of others.”

Dylan nodded but didn’t answer. I knew why. Truth was she didn’t have that time for herself. Her nails weren’t painted, she never had a minute set aside just for herself, and for some ridiculous, messed-up reason, I was feeling guilty about it, even though I hadn’t been the one to knock her up.

Bruce and I shook hands. My grip crushed his, and I could tell by his surprised face he wasn’t expecting that. “How’re you doin’, son?”

“Good. And about to get better once you sign the contract I emailed you ten minutes ago.”

Bruce’s brows shot up his forehead. “Putting the cart before the horse, I see. I didn’t accept anything y—”

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