eyes widening. “I was just admiring Katharina’s gorgeous dress.” She held up her phone, which showed a flattering picture of Kat that she must have snapped just minutes before. She turned to Kat. “With your permission, I’d love to post it. My lifestyle brand followers will love it.”
Julia began typing away on her phone as if starting the post without getting Kat’s permission. Kat blinked, startled. “You have a lifestyle brand?”
Without looking up, Julia nodded. “Mmm hmm. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Fløe. F-L-O with a slash through it-E—as in ‘Go with the Fløe.’ I just hit over two million followers last month, so a lot of people will see your pic. Can I tag you? You have an Instagram, right?”
Kat blinked as if still absorbing all of this news. Julia had been touting herself as an influencer and brand ambassador for several years. Finally, after coming of age for her trust fund, she’d quit college and started her own lifestyle brand. At least she was interested in doing something—even if it just meant traveling, clubbing, shopping, partying, and documenting it all for her followers.
“Uh, yeah. Sure. It’s @PersephoneGamer. It’s linked to my Twitch account.”
One brow rose, Whatshername whispered something I couldn’t hear to Julia. Claire continued to stare at Kat and me with that weird mixture of hurt and curiosity. Awkward. God, I was so done with this bullshit tonight.
“That’s right.” Julia said, glancing up from her phone. “I knew you were a gamer. Will have to check out your channel sometime.” Biting her lip, she continued to thumb-type her post. “Sorry just adding hashtags now. That’s off the rack, right? Not a designer?”
“Yeah,” Kat answered. “If I can’t pronounce the name, I won’t wear it.” Kat laughed, I laughed. The other three stared at us with looks akin to mortification.
“Well. Sorry to interrupt but I need to steal my wife away.” She turned to meet my gaze, giving a decisive nod. Kat was subtle about it, but I could tell she was still pissed at me. Didn’t matter. After three and a half glasses of my father’s Scotch, not much could faze me, not even an angry wife. And a butthurt ex-wife, for that matter.
I hadn’t made eye contact but I could feel Claire watching every move we made. My arm hooked around Kat’s waist, pulling her up against me. I could feel the entire length of her body along my own in a way I never had before. After the initial stiffness of surprise, she relaxed against me before covering the hand I rested on her hip with her own. Our fingers laced together and suddenly….
My alcohol-laced blood ignited and quickly burned for more. For her. Without another thought, I swept down and planted a firm kiss on that soft, sweet-smelling neck.
And then she did it…. She shivered against me. That tremor sent a bolt of desire right through me and I was hard instantly.
She sent me a questioning glance—her cheeks slightly pink, her mouth open, her chest rising quicker than before. I hadn’t realized that my hold on her had tightened involuntarily so I reluctantly loosened my grip. But not without that reminder inside my head that cried out with all the sophistication of a Neanderthal. Mine! Mine, mine, mine.
All mine.
“Are you okay?” she whispered when the others started talking amongst themselves.
I leaned in to return the whisper, aware that the world around us was still a little wobbly. “Let’s go home.”
She stared, her pink lips parting again. I really wanted to kiss them. In my pleasantly buzzed haze, it was all I could think about. Then I wanted to feel those lips all over my body.
She tugged on my arm and jerked her head toward the house, wordlessly asking me to speak in private. Maybe she wanted to yell at me again, like she had before dinner. I suppose I didn’t blame her.
And I certainly wouldn’t disagree to being alone with her privately. But not because I wanted to talk.
Kat slowly slid away from me and I reluctantly released her. But she caught my hand and, with a gentle tug and a wave to the rest of the group, pulled me away.
Once inside and in privacy, she turned to me and quietly stated the obvious. “You’re drunk and you reek of whiskey.” I responded by reaching up to her face and running a thumb along her bottom lip. That lush, plump lip needed to be tasted. Her face clouded, and she batted my hand away.