And that is the last thing Lucas needs to hear with his parents in my house.
I shoot Gram an appreciative look, noticing the way her blue eyes narrow at my ex-boyfriend. When she flicks a questioning stare at me, I mouth, “Rebecca.”
Her lips thin into a disapproving line. And then, because she doesn’t have it in her to be rude to anyone, she smiles at him. “Come on, we better go to the dining room.” Turning to look over her shoulder, she teasingly tells Lucas’s dad, “Danny, might as well have some food to get ready for that loss.”
My grandmother and ex disappear into the dining room with Mr. Wolfe following a few seconds behind them. He’s grinning broadly and shaking his head. “Your grandma is—” He freezes and looks between Lucas and me, his brows tugging together. “Is everything alright?”
“It’s fine,” Lucas promises, but his smile is tight. “Give us a few?”
Mr. Wolfe nods, and once he’s out of sight, out of earshot, I let my shoulders sag and slowly turn toward him. I stare down at the floor, squeezing my eyes together to stop the tears burning the corners. “Whenever I think she’s not going to do something else crazy, she pulls something like this. Why in the world would she ask him here? And why would he even come?”
“Oh
, Red.” He releases a breath, and I feel his strong hands on my shoulders. “Look at me.” When I don’t, he kisses me hard, not pulling away until I’m winded and dizzy. “If you could only see yourself the way I do, you’d know why she likes to fuck with you, why he was dumb enough to bring his ass here when he knows that you’ve moved on.”
“And what reason would that be?” I whisper.
He strokes his fingers over my shoulder before cupping the back of my neck. With his other hand, he feathers his thumb across my cheek. “You shine, Red. People do crazy things simply to be around you. Trust me, I know—I’m one of them. Your grandmother loves you and that threatens Rebecca. You’re with me, and that dumb shit Parker—”
“Preston,” I correct, laughing, and he kisses me again.
“Preston, Parker, what-the-fuck-ever. He’s threatened by the thought of you being with someone else. And you’re with me, Sienna. There’s no fucking way I’m letting you go ‘cause of a little prick like that.” Drawing away from me, he skims his fingers down my arm and takes my hand. He starts to tug me toward the dining room, but I shake my head.
“You’re wrong, you know?”
“About what?”
“Preston. It’s been years since we were together.”
Now it’s his turn to laugh—a sound that breaks through the panic still rattling around in my chest. “Damn, Red. Haven’t you figured out by now that you’re worth fighting for?”
“Thank you for bringing me here. And I’m sorry about this afternoon,” I whisper, catching a glimpse of Lucas’s nearly naked, tattooed reflection in the mirror that hangs on the back of our hotel door. Lunch ended hours ago, but I’ve been apologizing ever since we left my grandmother’s place to board a flight to Atlanta. The trip came as a surprise--when we exchanged gifts after eating, he’d presented me with the tickets. Not that I’m complaining. I welcome this escape from my mother, from the smug grin that flitted across her face whenever she defended her decision to invite my ex to Gram’s.
Realizing that I’m scowling at the mirror, I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten before facing him again.
“Ugh, I need to stop letting my mom screw with me. I mean, I get to see Kylie tonight. And I’ll wake up next to you tomorrow morning. It’s our first Christmas together.”
Turning away from the fully stocked minibar, Lucas releases a chuckle and shakes his head, his mess of wet dark hair falling in his beautiful face. As he strides toward me, he shoves his unruly locks back so our eyes lock. He stops once he’s behind me, skimming his hands from my waist to my hips and back up again.
“Don’t bring that woman in here with us,” he whispers, dropping his full lips to my temple. “In fact, if you mention her one more time—” Instead of telling me what he’ll do, he teasingly shows me, giving my ass a little smack that makes me gasp.
I swear, getting spanked shouldn’t feel so good.
“You’re getting me wet,” I manage to say through my breathlessness, and when his brows shoot up and his grin broadens, I quickly revise that remark. “My dress, Mr. Wolfe. Your chest is wet and you’re getting it all over me.”
Giving me an appreciative look, he backs away from me and studies my backside before motioning for me to turn around to face him. I do, and he slowly drinks in the sight of the strappy red bandage dress. It was another gift from him today—from a designer that I’ve always wanted to wear—and I’m already attached to the sexy little number. “I want to tear it off you. God, the effect you have on me, Red…”
I rest my shoulders against the mirror behind me and shake my head. “If you even think about ripping this dress, I’ll—” But he tugs me to him, his strong hands on either side of my ass and his gaze intense as he stares down at me. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“I’ll always look at you like this.” His mouth moves over mine, tasting slowly in an agonizing, sensual dance. When he draws away, his eyes are closed. Taking my hand in his, he presses my palm against his rock-hard erection, and my throat goes dry. “We show up, we mingle, and then you’re all mine.”
This is the second time we’ve been to a party in Atlanta—the first was several months ago—but this time instead of a night club, it’s being held at a swanky Buckhead house. A few minutes after we arrive, and Kylie finds me, she tells me it belongs to a top executive of the band’s record company. Hooking her arm through mine, she starts to drag me off, giving her brother a death glare when he tries to protest.
“Good god, Luke, you can go without her for five minutes. Go talk to Wyatt or Cal. Y’all can plan a Christmas album for next year or some shit,” she tells him over her shoulder.
He responds with a dark look that stomps all over the one she’s giving him, but she pulls me around the corner to where she grins at a bartender. I glance from her rounded belly to her eyebrows tugging together in determination and scowl. “Um, Kylie—”
She rolls her big, chocolate brown eyes. “Oh, calm your tits, woman. I wouldn’t dream of touching a real drink to these lips until baby McCrae makes his appearance.” To the bartender, she sweetly asks, “Can I get a virgin Bloody Mary with a ton of olives?”