Page 161 of Merry Me
“Yeah,” I said softly, “I really do.”
After the last photo op, we slipped inside the velvet-roped lobby where champagne flowed, heels clicked, and the stars looked only slightly less intimidating than marblepillars.
I leaned into Easton’s side as we stepped toward the theater entrance, my arm looped through his. “Did I tell you how good you look tonight?” I murmured, my lips brushing his ear.
He grinned. “You did. Repeatedly. With tongue.”
“Well,” I said, lowering my voice just enough. “Then I should probably also tell you…I’m not wearing panties.”
He stopped walking.
Just—stopped, mid-stride. His whole body went still like I’d yanked the emergency brake on his brain.
I smiled and kept going.
“Natalie,” he said, catching up with a growl so low I felt it more than heard it.
“Yes, Mr. Maddox?”
He stepped in behind me, his hand landing low on my waist, his breath warm against my ear as he leaned in close—close enough that no one else could hear what he said.
“You’re evil.”
I felt the slight shift of his hips, the unmistakable press of his bulge against my back—hard, solid, undeniable.
My knees nearly buckled.
“Feel that?” he murmured, his voice thick with hunger.
I swallowed. “You seem…enthusiastic.”
“That’s what you do to me.”
I didn’t even try to hide my smile. “Sometimes I forget how much you’ve got going on down there until it tries to introduce itself.”
“I’m dying,” he said, his voice a rough rasp of barely restrained desire as he adjusted himself behind me with an exhale that was practically a prayer. “Give me five minutes. One of those marble-tiled premiere bathrooms. I’ll remind you.”
I turned to face him, arching a brow. “Oh? But that would make me miss the movie,” I said innocently. “And as you know…I’ve been so excited about it.”
He stared at me like he was seconds away from hauling meoff right then and there. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he tried to say, all charming-like.
I brushed my lips across his jaw and winked. “The show’s about to start, Hollywood. Can’t upstage yourself.”
He groaned softly, and adjusted his tux jacket—less for fashion, more for survival’s sake. “You’re going to kill me.”
I smiled sweetly and tugged him toward the theater doors. “Better make it through the premiere, Mr. Maddox. You’ve got a very long night ahead of you.”
The theater doors opened, and instantly a hush fell over the room as the two of us walked in. Red velvet seats stretched in perfect symmetry before us, and the low hum of conversation dimmed into a curious quiet.
The kind of quiet that came with recognition.
With star power.
Easton Maddox didn’t justwalkinto rooms—he shifted gravity.
And now, I was the one at his side, gown whispering against my legs, hand tucked confidently into his. Heads turned. Cameras flashed one last time as we stepped down the aisle, headed for the front row whereReservedtags with our names waited.
“Still with me?” he asked, his voice low, eyes scanning the room like a wolf making sure no one else eventhoughtabout touching what was his.
