To Love Honour and Disobey

‘No, you’re not.’

He peered at her again. ‘Ugh. You’re right. If I was, you’d be naked.’

‘Sebastian, you have to get up. Aren’t you due at your father’s wedding?’

‘Not going.’ His growl took her aback.

‘What?’

He sighed. ‘Look, I have no interest in seeing my dad get married again. Certainly not to a woman only a few years older than me.’

‘Seb.’ She shook her head. ‘Aren’t you the best man?’

‘Been there, done that. Twice already. Not gonna again.’

‘Seb, this is your father.’ He couldn’t skip this. He’d regret it. She knew he would.

‘So? I don’t know her family. There’s not a lot of mine. It’s not going to be fun, Ana, and it’ll all be over in a year or two at best. What’s the point?’

‘It’s not about having fun. It’s about being there for your family.’ She paused.

‘Not going.’ He lifted his head from the sofa and raised his voice too. ‘They’re too annoying.’

‘You should be grateful you have parents to be annoyed by.’

His head thudded back on the cushion. ‘Oh, you had to go low, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah. You can’t argue with me.’ She handed him the mug. ‘Drink up. I’ll take you back to yours and drive you to the wedding.’

‘I’m perfectly capable of driving.’

Like hell he was. ‘With the amount you obviously drank last night? So much you couldn’t walk the three blocks back to your place? It’s still got to be in your system.’

‘I didn’t have that much. Not enough anyway.’

‘Well, you smell like you’re over the limit.’

Seb grunted. Unable to deny his amusement. Yeah, he reeked. But that was because in the carousing with Phil he’d spilt a giant glass of Scotland’s finest over his clothes. Terrible waste. But it had got late and Phil had been keen to stay up later—sly dog. He’d known, hadn’t he, that the last thing Seb had wanted to do was leave? He’d tossed him a blanket, telling him it was too cold/wet/late to walk home—making it easy for him. And Seb had practically leapt at the offer. Hell, he’d slept better on this too small sofa than he had in his own right-sized bed. Just knowing she was near. That he was going to see her again soon—in only a few hours rather than the uncertain number of days he’d had to wait this week.

Hell. There was something seriously wrong with him.

‘I’ll walk home.’ He needed to get his head together.

‘I’m coming with you.’

His mood inexplicably lifted. ‘Why?’

‘Because I have the feeling you’re not going to show up at the wedding. And I think that would be a mistake.’

He eyed her lazily. He didn’t give a damn about the wedding. ‘What are you going to do about it?’

‘I’m going to take you there myself.’

‘You’re inviting yourself to my father’s wedding?’ His heart stopped beating.

‘Yeah.’ She tossed her head. ‘Why not?’

Why not? Hell, she had no idea how close he was to giving in to base urges and hauling her into his arms. His heart thumped again—a couple of uneven beats before picking up speed as his brain processed the idea of having the whole day with her. ‘You want to see what the craziness is like?’

‘Is it that crazy, Seb?’

‘It’s hell.’ He closed his eyes again as he thought of something far more wickedly exciting. ‘What are you going to wear?’

There was a bit of a pause. Then he heard her soft voice—heard the catch of shy laughter.

‘Actually I have the most amazing dress. A few, in fact. Want to help me choose?’

‘OK.’ Of course he did.

‘I’ll go get them.’

‘No to anything black,’ he called after her.

In a minute she was back, holding a hanger with a dress floating from it. ‘No black limits options. What about this?’

He stared, his whole body reacting, and was damn glad of the blanket he still had over him. ‘Have you ever worn it in public?’

‘No.’

He almost managed a laugh.

‘What do you think?’

Her eyes were wide, her teeth caught on her lower lip. He thought he was about to burst out of his skin with lust.

He forced his eyes back to the dress. It was green or maybe blue, a shimmering slip of a thing with spaghetti straps. And short. Far, far too short.

‘You can’t wear that.’ That was what he thought.

‘Why not?’

‘Because it looks like it belongs in a bedroom.’