“Hey, Rowdy,” he whispers against my mouth. “You’re not still a virgin, are you?”
I hesitate at the question, then tug at his tie to bring his body closer as we move. “What if I was? Would it be so terrible, being my first? Isn’t there some old-fashioned part of you that would enjoy that, Bradshaw?”
His smile vanishes, and that gives me a small amount of satisfaction, but aside from that, I can hardly make out his expression in the flickering candlelight. “I said I don’t do strings.”
“I’m no innocent.” Not since that weekend I surprised him at Notre Dame. Sam may have turned me down, but I didn’t spend the night alone. “And I never offered strings.”
“Are you sure? Because while I don’t do strings, I do enjoy . . . restraints.” He brushes a thumb over my bottom lip.
My breath catches and my pulse picks up speed. “If you’re trying to scare me off with talk of bondage, it’s not going to work. I’m not a little girl anymore, Sam.”
His gaze dips to my cleavage and rests there for a moment. “I can see that.”
“And I can take anything you can dish out.”
“Have you ever sucked dick with your hands tied behind your back? Ever been on your knees and let a man guide your mouth just where he wants it?”
My pulse triples at his words, and my girlie bits go wild. They’re pathetic, really, but who can blame them? They’ve waited four years for this, and I’ve made them suffer through some seriously subpar male attention in the meantime. “You talk a big game.” I tuck my hips to rub against him. My sober, intellectual self would be offended by the idea of Sam seducing me with talk of a blowjob. But I’m not sober, and if he’s trying to turn me on, it’s working.
“It’s not just talk,” he says, his voice low, promise in his eyes.
Yes, even bad boys have a code of honor, and tonight I plan to find a loophole in that code.
* * *
Sam
Liz leans her head on my shoulder, and the smell of her shampoo fills my nose—something flowery and feminine. Damn, she smells good. And she feels good in my arms.
I didn’t want to come to the wedding tonight, and I was attempting to bail out when Dad gave me that look. That “You will not disappoint me or this family” look. I barely know the bride, but her parents are friends with my parents, and, being a Bradshaw, I’m expected to keep up appearances at all costs. Smile when you’re supposed to smile, show up when you’re supposed to show up and, above all, don’t fuck up.
If my father only knew . . .
On the other side of the dance floor, my dad catches my eye and nods toward Sabrina, who’s talking to my mom. Dad’s told me more than once that I need to dance with her tonight. “Shit,” I mutter.
“What?” Liz asks, following my gaze to the redhead across the room. “Who’s she? She looks familiar.”
“Her name’s Sabrina.”
“Fancy,” Liz says. “Let me guess, she’s not the kind of girl who has a nickname like Rowdy?”
Not at all. “She’s a friend of the family, and the governor’s daughter.”
She draws in her breath. “That’s why she looks familiar. Wow. They could be sisters. She looks so much like her mom.”
“Dad would like me to woo and wed her to make sure he gets Governor Guy’s endorsement when he runs for the position.”
“Your dad wants to be governor?”
“He’s been laying the groundwork for years. He’ll run at the end of Guy’s second term.”
“So you should probably go dance with her,” she says.
I let my hand drift to her ass, and when I squeeze, her big blue eyes get bigger. “Probably,” I admit. “But I’d rather dance with you.”
Ever since Asia surprised me at my house on Thursday night and dropped the bomb of all bombs, it’s been as if the world was trying to eat me alive. Right here, though, with Liz in my arms and her sweet perfume filling my head, I feel . . . safe. Bigger. Like I can face my demons and come out stronger. Maybe it’s because she’s petite or because she’s always been my little sister’s friend, but the way Liz looks at me makes me feel like a fucking gladiator.
“Don’t worry about it.” She shrugs. “I understand family stuff. Truly.”
I join my hands at the small of her back and pull her closer. “I’m not done with you.”
Sighing, she leans her head against my chest. “Best news I’ve heard all night.”
“You’ll be around when I’m done humoring my father and his dreams of arranged marriages?”