Everything for Her(97)

“Mallory? Paige?” Oz says, knocking on the bathroom door.

Panicked, I open the bottom cabinet and hide the test under a roll of toilet paper. I stand up and look at Paige, who has her arms out like she doesn’t know what to do.

“Be right out, Oz,” I say, and try not to sound like I’m up to something. “Paige, um, Paige had to help me go to the bathroom so I wouldn’t mess my nails up,” I rush, trying to cover my fumble.

Paige gives me two thumbs-up, and I put my hands to my mouth so I don’t panic.

“Okay,” Oz says, but doesn’t sound convinced. “I’ll be in the dining room when you guys are finished.”

We wait another minute or two before we take a breath and exit the bathroom.

“Damn, that was close,” Paige says, and for some reason her words sting.

I’m not pregnant, and I’m surprised at how sad that thought makes me.





Chapter Thirty-Five

Mallory








“I can’t believe I agreed to this.” Oz runs his finger down between my breasts. The simple touch sends goose bumps up my arms. I lick my lips and look up at him. We’ve only been here twenty minutes and Oz hasn’t released me from his hold. I’ve been pressed up against him since I walked out of our building. In fact, I think he’s even avoiding people by keeping us hostage in a little corner of the ballroom.

“See, you’re cold. You should take my jacket.” He goes to take off his jacket, making me laugh.

“I’m fine.” I smile up at him and he scowls.

“I’m going to have a talk with Ms. Ford about the things she picks out for you,” he mumbles, more to himself than to me as he looks around the room. He moves himself a little, blocking me from view, and I have to fight a smile.

“Are we going to hide in this corner all night?” I mold myself into him more, trying to cool some of his caveman tendencies. Tension rolls though his body under his jacket. He’s wearing an onyx-black tux and a matching dress shirt. But he’s not wearing a tie tonight. Instead, he’s got the top button of his shirt undone, and his sexy neck is on display. Every time his Adam’s apple moves, I want to run my tongue across its ridge. He looks dark tonight dressed in all black, and I’m having a hard time controlling my dark desires.

Reaching up, I wrap my arms around his neck, and it makes him look back down at me. I lift up on my tiptoes, and he meets me halfway, putting a soft kiss on my lips. “I’m only yours. I promise,” I tell him when I pull back.

“I know. But I don’t like fuckers looking.” His hand rests on my back, then slides down to my ass, giving it a small squeeze. I kiss his exposed neck before dropping back down.

“Oh, sorry, I got some lipstick on you.” I swipe at the shimmer on his neck, but he stops me.

“Leave it.” He squeezes my ass one more time, then pulls me into his erection. It digs into my stomach, and he makes a grunting noise. “I like your mark on me. You should have let me leave one of my own.”

Bending down, he kisses my neck, but I pull back before he can deepen it. “No more hickeys. At least where anyone can see them.” He smiles against my neck, and I’m happy that his inner caveman is appeased. For now.

“Not the kind of mark I was talking about. I meant between your legs. I think I would have felt a hell of a lot better about you in this dress if I knew that right now you had me coating your thighs.” He takes a little bite of my neck, and I shiver with desire. “And your pussy.”

My core clenches at his words, but I only tilt my head more for him. I wish we’d done what he’s saying, but that would’ve been hard with security waiting for us in the living room when I’d come out ready to go. Which is probably why he didn’t mark me to begin with.

“Miles,” a man says. Oz tenses a little at the sound of his name, and he reluctantly lets me go. He turns around, and I redden even more at being caught having a little make-out session.

“Tom.” Oz pulls me close to his side with one hand. With his other, he reaches out to shake the speaker’s hand. He looks to be in his midfifties with salt-and-pepper hair, and I get the sense I’ve seen him before, but I can’t place where. Like everyone else here, he’s dressed in a tux that probably cost more than I make in a year.

Tom looks at me with curiosity. I saw a few of those looks from others when we walked in together. Oz said people aren’t used to seeing him with a date, unless his mom comes with him.

“Mallory, this is Tom Sanders. He works in real estate.” Tom reaches out to shake my hand. It’s then I realize where I’ve seen him before. His face is plastered on buildings and buses around the city.