Page 15 of Prey Tell
Needless to say, I’d left that dinner early.
I still remember the disappointment written all over Parker’s face—the way she tried to persuade me to take some leftovers. The bolt of electricity when her fingers brushed against mine accidentally. The way I wanted her in that moment, and the way I envisioned sweeping everything off the dining room table and having my way with her… the way Ineededher. And the way her eyes lingered on mine for afractionof a second too long, like she knew…
I couldn’t stop thinking about the night she asked me to take her virginity.
And I couldn’t help but think I’d made the world’s biggest mistake by saying no.
I’d barely made it to my car before I unzipped my pants, threw my head back, and came all over the white leather seats of my newly refurbished vintage Bentley.
With the slightest touch, she’d turned me on.
Enough to make me stroke my cock outside of her house. I shouldn’t have been thinking of her that way. Like I always told myself, I didn’t deserve her. And in that moment, I felt like a terrible friend to Jackson.
So,no.
I wasn’t a good person.
And I remembered every single thing about Parker that night—her casual ponytail, and the way the small hairs clung to the back of her neck because of the heatwave, accentuating her long neck. The way her dark-green dress made her eyes look lighter somehow—almost reptilian. The dark red nails, the pink lips that tilted up in the corners, the high, pealing sound of her laugh…
“I hope she enjoys herself tonight. I’m worried about her. She’s working herself to death,” Jax offers.
I file that information away to dissect later as I glance at the clock. As much as I want to talk about Parker all morning long, I do have a meeting at eight.
“She’ll enjoy herself.”
I’d made damn sure of it.
He nods. “I hope so. I think we both need to let off some steam.”
I pat him on the back. “See you tonight,” I tell him, turning around and walking out of the kitchen. “Have a wonderful day with your small despots.”
CHAPTERTHREE
THE PARTY
Juliet
“Holy fuck,” I murmur to Dylan, my eyes wandering over the—are thoseswans?And ice sculptures? Dylan drops my hand as we both take in our lavish surroundings. I suddenly feel thoroughly underdressed in my simple black dress. I knew the party was going to be at the Black Rose—which is one of Crestwood’s finest dining establishments—but I had no idea of the extent to which Jackson had gone. As my eyes rove over the waiters walking around in black suits, the seven-tier cake adorned with—you guessed it—black roses, and the crystal champagne flutes in everyone’s hand…
That’s not taking the personal touches into consideration.
On one table sits a large, framed photo of Dylan and I in Ireland last spring. Black rose petals are scattered over the table, as well as pillar candles of all heights. Each corner of the restaurant has an extravagant display of dark red dahlias, pink peonies, and black roses, as well as candles and antique-looking books. And on every table sits crystal vases bursting with the same flowers, white pillar candles, and a stack of antique books. The flickering candles all around add a touch of magic to the atmosphere.
As Dylan and I fully enter the room, I glance over to one of the tables to see white napkins monogrammed with our initials—J&D. Custom-designed menus sit atop fine, white china plates and more forks than I thought possible for a meal. The opulence is… unsettling. I narrow my eyes at another table, realizing the favors consist of individual boxes. I walk over and open a few of them up. They’re all filled with chocolates shaped like Wolverine…
Wait a second.
My eyes dart around when I notice the ice sculptures are also shaped like the beastly man I am obsessed with.Did Jackson do all of this?Hugh Jackman as Wolverine was the reason for my sexual awakening as a teenager. I even have a cardboard cutout of him in my bedroom. My eyes prick with tears as I scan the faces of the crowd for my thoughtful brother, but I don’t find him. Instead, I’m greeted by a quick nod by Professor Landon—my old mentor. Shivers run down my spine when his eyes linger a little bit too long on my chest.
Creep.
Thank God I don’t ever have to interact with him in person anymore.
“A little over the top for an engagement party,” Dylan mutters, looking uncomfortable.
Jackson had offered to pay for everything wedding-related. I had no idea how he was managing it on his measly teaching salary, but I still appreciated it nonetheless. I’d recently hit six figures of student debt, which meant I hadnegativemoney to my name. That would hopefully change this fall, when I accepted one of the professorships I’d been offered, but until then… this wasbeyondanything I could ever imagine.
“I think it’s romantic,” I argue, looking around. “He knows me so well. Look at the old books! And the candles! I mean, there’s an ice sculpture of Wolverine!”
