Piece by Piece (The Riggins Brothers #2) - Kaylee Ryan Page 0,61

say, noticing just now.

“Had to clean up for my girl.”

“I love you the way you are.”

“I love you too.” He leans in for a kiss, and I don’t bother to warm him about my lipstick. He can smear it. Hell, it can be gone for all I care. I’m not passing up on a kiss from my man over lipstick.

Once we’re outside the limo, Owen offers me his arm, and I slide my hand into the crook of his elbow. He smiles down at me, and I stand tall, keeping my head held high. I don’t want to embarrass him, so I’m just going to have to fake it until I make it. I make a mental note to once again thank Lena for the thicker heels.

Owen gives the gentleman at the door his name, and we’re granted access into the ballroom. My eyes scan the room. It’s stunning, and unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed. I wasn’t kidding when I said I felt like I was in a fairy tale. This ballroom is reminiscent of something you would see on a movie screen, not a local hotel that I’m in, as an invited guest at that.

“You good?” Owen asks, leaning in close, his lips next to my ear.

“Yes. Thank you for bringing me. This is incredible.”

“No, baby. That title’s all you.” He kisses the corner of my mouth as a man calls out his name.

I mentally remind myself to smile politely, to stand tall and not to fidget. I want people to see us together and think that we belong together because piece by piece, our hearts are twisted, and for me, there’s no going back.

Chapter 21

Owen

Every man in this ballroom has had his eyes on my girl. I get it. She’s fucking gorgeous, but I can only take so much. I need to get her out of here, and under me, or over me. I’m not picky as long as I’m inside her.

“Mr. Riggins, a picture?” The photographer holds up her camera, and I nod, pulling Layla close. Her hand rests on my chest as she leans into me. The flash goes off, and we’re on the move before the words “Thank you” are out of the photographer’s mouth.

“What’s the rush?”

“I need you out of this dress,” I say, not bothering to lower my voice. I don’t care if all of the fuckers who have been staring at her all night hear me.

She’s mine.

They need to recognize that and focus on their own dates.

“Owen,” Layla gasps, but I don’t stop moving toward the door that will lead us to the bank of elevators that will take us up to our room. Our room where I can strip her out of that dress that’s been taunting me since I arrived at my parents’ place. I place my hand over hers that’s resting in the crook of my arm as we wait for the elevator. Luckily for us, when it arrives, we’re the only one waiting. As soon as the door slides shut, I’m all over her.

Her back hits the wall, and my lips mold with hers. I kiss her like I’ve been dying to do all night. I pull her leg up to wrap around mine, as she buries her hands in my hair. “O-Owen,” she pants, turning her head to the side. That’s fine. My lips trail over her exposed shoulder. I’ve been dying to taste her here all fucking night long.

The door chimes and slides open, and I have to force myself to pull my lips from her soft skin. With her hand clasped tightly in mine, we make our way off the elevator and down the hall to our room. It takes me three tries to get the keycard in the door. Not because I’m nervous; it’s because I want her with an intensity that makes my hands shake as they ache to touch her.

Finally, the light turns green, and I push open the door, allowing Layla to walk in before me. Dropping the key card to the floor, I pull her into my arms and kiss her hard. Her taste, a mixture of champagne and Layla, explodes on my tongue. I can’t get enough of her. Can’t seem to get her close enough.

“I need you out of this dress,” I say, bunching it up around her waist.

“Don’t rip it,” she says, reading my mood expertly.

Stepping away from her, I place my hands on the back of my head. My chest is heaving as I struggle to