Page 81 of Well, Actually
She pinches his arm, making him laugh. “I’m so sick of playing nice hostess, that’s for sure,” she says to Aida. “Which is why—and I’m so sorry to do this to you again, Eva—but I need to steal Rylie and have him charm people into giving me lots of money.”
“Please don’t apologize, I’m just glad someone’s found a use for him. Capitalize on it. Go, go.” I shoo them, Rylie sending me an apologetic but promising smile over his shoulder as Lilith pulls him into the crowd.
Aida and I turn to each other, both still dazed over the confrontation that didn’t ruin us.
“Want to get drunk and hunt for sugar daddies?” she asks, tracing the movement of a handsome, salt-and-pepper-haired man in a three-piece suit and a watch that costs more than a year’s worth of rent.
“I’ll wingwoman,” I say with a wink.
Aida shakes her head. “Not Rylie Cooper making an honest woman out of you.”
“I’m horrified too,” I say with a grin, lifting my champagne flute in a cheers.
Chapter 21
The next couple hours go by in a blur. Aida and I make a few loops of the room, creating intricate backstories of people in attendance while taking diligent advantage of Ray’s amazing food and the open bar.
Rylie keeps returning to me like a magnet, his hand at the small of my back, lips at my ear as he whispers an endearment or a dirty joke. He dragged me into a few small-talk sessions Lilith orchestrated, but when he realized how much more I’d rather be bullshitting with Aida than feigning interest in palm greasing, he sent me to her with a smile and a promise to find me as soon as Lilith was a little less high-strung.
Feet aching from my unforgivingly gorgeous heels, I’m parked at a table in the back of the banquet hall, alternating between people-watching and spying as Aida hits it off with some guy who works for EI a few tables over.
“Excuse me, everyone.” Lilith’s voice echoes through a microphone, the live band gracefully quieting. She smiles, a radiant, proud smile that I hope she wears every day from here on out. “On behalf of Euphoric Identity, I want to thank you all so much for being here. Your support and advocacy for queer youth is making a generation of difference for the young people of this city, particularly for minorities who have so often been overlooked and underserved at a disproportionate rate. We would not be making the impact we are if it weren’t for your continued generosity and philanthropy. With that being said, it’s about time for the grand event of the evening. The auction will be starting shortly, and entrees will be served, so if you’d all take your seats, we can begin momentarily.” She makes a gracious exit from the stage as we all cheer for her.
I crane my neck as I clap, trying to catch sight of Rylie so I can sit with him for dinner. My phone vibrates with a text.
Care for a graveyard smash tonight, my queen?
I slap a hand over my mouth to hide my scream as a link comes through for a playlist titled “M0n$teR FuqKing.” The only song is “Monster Mash”… added sixty-nine times.
I have to bite down hard on my tongue so I don’t alarm anyone with the quiet laughter making my entire body shake. I do a quick Google search of the song’s lyrics—because I am a normal person and don’t have them all committed to memory—then fire back with:you can come to the master bedroom where the vampires feast [on this pussy]
Rylie’s reply is obnoxiously fast:Eva, please. We’re at a charity event for children. That’s so inappropriate.
Another text pops up a few seconds later:meet me at the elevators in thirty seconds or face *monster* consequences
I’m giggling like a fool, already darting toward the exit as I respond:for the love of god this joke needs to DIE
I pass by Aida’s seat, giving her a quick excuse and a kiss on the head. She’s so invested in the guy she’s talking to she essentially shoves me away.
I slip off my heels, feet slapping the glossy marble floor as I sprint toward the elevators, recklessness fizzing through my veins.
I come to a halt at the meeting spot, realizing I beat him there. In a futile attempt to collect myself, I fuss with my hair, trying to get my breathing under control. It’s no use, I don’t think I’ve breathed right since this ridiculous man entered my life.
A few seconds later, Rylie rounds the corner. He stops a few feet away from me, his cheeks flushed and eyes already hooded as he appraises me for half a beat. I register the quickest twitch of his lips into his signature smile before he’s on me in three long strides, pressing his mouth to mine, hands cradling my jaw and fingers diving into my hair. My back makes contact with the wall, and I fumble for the elevator call button with one hand, whacking him in the back with my shoes with the other as I throw my arm around his neck and kiss him even harder.
There’s a momentary delay, and then the elevator doors slide open, Rylie’s hands slipping to my waist as he walks me in. A raw mix of amusement and longing flood my sensitive system as I watch Rylie impatiently fuss with his room key and our floor button, his hands shaking and gaze returning to me every half a second like it’s killing him to not be touching me right now.
We finally shoot up, my stomach swooping low as his hands are back on me. It could be two seconds or twenty minutes, and we’re tripping out the doors and down our hallway, a punch-drunk tangle of need. With a growl of frustration over our slow progress to our room, Rylie picks me up, hitching my long skirt up my thighs and wrapping my legs around his waist, his nose pressed to the base of my neck as he breathes me in, carries me home. With more deftness using the keycard than in the elevator, he gets us inside the room, kicking the door closed behind him.
We make it as far as the bathroom, Rylie sliding my body down his until I’m leaning against the doorframe, one of his thighs wedging tightly between mine, my hips instantly nudging for friction.
And I don’t know why but we’re giggling. Then panting and touching in such a blur my head spins. Everything with Rylie is a blur, a glimmer of golden energy that creates an unbearable warmth in my chest.
“I’m furious that ‘Monster Mash’ line worked,” I gasp as his head drops to my breasts, the wet heat of his tongue working against the white silk of my top until it’s soaked and I’m whimpering for more.
“Really?” he says, pulling back with his eyes fixed on my tight, aching nipples he can see the outline of through the fabric. He ghosts a touch over them with his thumbs, and a small shiver rushes through me. His eyes snap to mine as he pinches the tight peak, making me gasp. He gives me a lazy smile. “Because I couldn’t be happier.”
He ducks his head again, devouring my breasts, biting andsucking and murmuring howfucking goodI am as I continue to writhe against his thigh, fisting his hair, pulling him closer, needing every molecule of space to be obliterated.
