Page 96 of In the Net
I finally have to admit it to myself: I’m not ready for reality to crash down on me when Sebastian and I get back home.
40
SEBASTIAN
The wedding reception has gone late into the night. It’s dark outside, and the room is filled with a golden twinkle from the chandeliers that makes everything feel glossy and dream-like.
And there’s not a single fucking sight in here more dream-like than Harper Brees wearing that green dress.
I made myself a promise one week ago that I wasn’t going to just let Harper go when we get back from this wedding. She means too damn much to me. It’s crazy that it took this fake relationship for me to realize that she’s everything I’ve always wanted. But now that I have realized it, going back to a life without her by my side sounds like … fuck, it doesn’t sound like a life at all.
But nothing’s guaranteed. I’m going to put it all out there for her, serve her up my feelings on a platter when we get back to Cedar Shade … and she could still reject them.
The thought alone feels like a dose of ice water pumped into my veins.
But no matter what happens tomorrow, or a week from now, or a month from now … tonight, she’s still mine. I’m sure as hell going to make the most of it.
The opening chords of a slow love song that I recognize fill the room. It’s a newly released song, already infamous for how long it is, clocking in at over ten minutes.
It’s perfect.
I walk right up to Harper while she’s talking with some people from the groom’s family.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I say, “but I need to ask my date if I may have this dance?”
Harper grins while her brows pinch. “Do you have any idea how long this song is?”
A smile slides comfortably onto my face. “Why do you think I chose it?”
I hold my hand out, and hers slides into it. I wrap my grip around her gently, memorizing how her long, delicate fingers feel when lightly clasped by my own.
I want to memorize every single thing about the way she feels during this dance. I don’t want to forget a single inch of her skin that I get to touch, a single contour of her body that fits against mine, a single smell that wafts from her hair.
I lead her to the dance floor, being bold in how tightly I tuck her body against mine as we start to move to the rhythm of the song. For minutes, I don’t say anything. I concentrate on her breasts brushing lightly against my chest. I concentrate on my hand resting on her waist. I concentrate on the golden light coating her bare shoulder. I concentrate on how soft her hair feels when it feathers against the side of my face.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she says, like she’s puzzled by the fact.
I also concentrate on every sweet note of her voice.
“A little tired, I guess,” I fib. I’m the furthest thing from tired. I feel like I want to stay up all night long, like I don’t want towaste a second of our last night together as a couple sleeping. But I need an excuse, because I’m not ready to pull my attention from committing everything about Harper to my memory, committing it deep enough that I’ll never forget a single thing.
She huffs out a tiny laugh. Her breath is warm on the side of my neck. I damn sure memorize that, too.
“I heard you boring my cousins to death about my academic stuff,” she says.
“If they’re bored by the incredible work you do, they’re idiots,” I answer, meaning every word.
I’ve been straining myself to be pleasant and charming to everyone I meet here, because I know that’s how Harper wants this thing to go. But in all honesty, seeing the way some of her family members have dismissed and denigrated Harper’s dedication to her studies has pissed me off.
Her chest shakes with a laugh. It makes the perfect orbs of her tits press harder against my chest, and my cock leaps behind my pants.
“I think we can forgive people for finding Russian literature essays boring,” she says.
“I can’t.”
She huffs, and I can sense her eyes rolling. “Protective, aren’t we?”
“Of my girlfriend? You’re damn right.”
