Bennett Ryan was a perfectionist, demanding, stubborn, power-hungry asshole. Any other woman would last about two seconds with him before he chewed her up and spit her out.
And hell, some days I would love a pliant manservant, but no way was I trading in my Beautiful Bastard.
He stood, kissing down between my breasts and, with a reluctant groan, pulling out of me. Bending, he reached for his boxers and slid them back up before looking me over, eyes raking across bare, damp skin.
“I’ll finish the programs and tie the goddamn candy ribbons,” he said, running his hand over his face. “You’ve got a kitchen to clean up if you want more of that in our bed later.”
“Uh, no,” I protested, pushing up on one elbow. The kitchen was a disaster. “I’ll do the programs.”
“You’ll do the kitchen,” he said, voice firm. “And hurry, Miss Mills. Mustard stains.”
Chapter Two
We’d been in San Diego exactly two hours and I was already regretting not taking Chloe up on her Vegas elopement.
As if equipped with some kind of Bennett mood ring embedded in her brain, the woman in question turned in the seat next to me. I could feel the weight of her attention, her pressing gaze as she watched me and tried to dissect each frown or sigh.
“Why do you look nervous?” she asked finally.
“I’m fine,” I answered, aiming for disinterested but failing spectacularly.
“The grip you have on the steering wheel would suggest otherwise.”
I frowned more deeply and immediately loosened my hold. We were on our way to dinner, where the majority of our two families would be meeting for the first time. They had flown in from all over the country: Michigan, Florida, New Jersey, and Washington, even some from Canada. A number of them I hadn’t seen in twenty years or more. In all, there were over three hundred and fifty people arriving within the next few days. God only knew what we were in for. On a good day I hated small talk. The week before one of the biggest events of my life, I was terrified I would be such an enormous asshole that everyone would leave town before the actual event.
Leaning forward so I would glance over at her, she asked, “Aren’t you excited for this week?”
“Yes, of course. I’m just dreading tonight a little, and wondering how I’ll handle all of the socializing.”
“My guess is ‘badly,’” she said, poking my shoulder.
I exhaled a laugh, giving her a playfully stern glance. “Thanks.”
“Look, just wait until you meet my aunts,” she said, leaning over and kissing where she’d poked me. “It’ll be all the distraction you’ll need.”
Chloe’s dad had traveled from North Dakota with his two very loud and eccentric sisters. They were both recently divorced, and Chloe promised me they had the potential to be the biggest disaster of the week. I wasn’t so sure we should give out that tiara just yet—Chloe had yet to meet my cousin Bull.
“You’ll forget about everything else and all you’ll be able to worry about is what they’ll do to get themselves arrested and how much it will cost you in bail money. Trust me, it’ll be very liberating.” She leaned over and began fiddling with the car stereo, stopping on a pulsing, high-pitched pop song. I slid my eyes over to her, concentrating a lifetime of disgust into the brief glance.
Satisfied that I was sufficiently annoyed, she sat back in her seat. “So what else is bothering you? You’re not getting cold feet on me now, are you?”
I leveled her with a look that was meant to imply Are you insane?