The Perfect Wrong, page 29
* * *
It feel like I’ve just stepped out of a time machine.
Marnie insisted on lavish costumes and formalwear for this party, and I’m actually not regretting it just yet.
The entire house looks so elegant. When Marguerite overheard us planning, she insisted on pitching in with a few other ladies to dress the place up.
Bows and bells hang all over the place, orange-white stripes and red-white-and-blue, the wholesome décor of a simpler time.
The staff helped me finish the last of the setup this morning, and now the guests are filing in.
Dad went off to his conference as planned.
I struggle not to step on my long, flowing blue dress that reaches to the floor. It’s a boat-neck evening dress with crystal studded around the neckline, all old-world charm and modern sparkles.
Whatever Marnie’s sins, bad fashion sense has never been one of them.
I’m waiting on tenterhooks to see how Chris looks.
He said he’d pick something “appropriate,” which I took to mean something military. Whatever it is, I’m sure he’ll put Prince Charming to shame.
But I also don’t mind if the anti-Prince comes out to play once the drinks are flowing.
I give it about an hour before people start losing their fancy outfits and disappear across the beach, filling every little nook and cranny with their own rhythm that’s hot and heavy and private.
Whatevs.
You’re only young and in college once. A few drunken sexy parties come with the territory, right?
A loud chime booms from the sound system.
I take the stairs carefully, one at a time, careful not to trip on my long skirt and break my neck. Luckily, I answer the door before any staff beat me to the punch.
Marnie stands there grinning with Mr. Tangerine Man snug on her arm. She’s decked out in this red botanical dress full of abstract shapes that looks like it belongs in a lounge from the Roaring Twenties.
Her date cleaned up halfway decent, too. He looks a little more civilized in his suit, even if it seems like it’s a size too small.
“Delia, darling!” She gives me her best cringey high-class accent, pecking me sharply on each cheek. “Where’s your handsome soldier boy?”
The warm smile I greet her with vanishes.
She’s already way too fixated on my badass date, tempting me to tell her point-blank why he’s off-limits.
Because apparently her own man with abs you could cook an egg on isn’t reason enough.
But I force my sweetest smile and nod politely at the beast-man behind her, and then lean in.
“He’ll be here soon, Marnie. Why don’t you guys go mingle? The bar’s open and stocked up with everything worth sipping. Mix your guy a mojito for a change!”
“Oh, fine. We’ll do it your way.” She rolls her eyes and stalks past in a huff.
Crisis averted. For now.
I’m about to head after her, hoping I can smooth things over, but somebody grabs me by the shoulder just as I start moving.
I know it’s Chris before we’re face-to-face and his lips are on mine.
Nobody else touches me like the man who holds a deed to every square inch of me.
“Sneaky jerk,” I hiss once his tongue glides off mine. “Did they teach you kissing ambushes when you were a SEAL?”
“Nah. Handling my woman comes naturally. I came ready for you tonight, princess. And fuck, you’re looking the part tonight.” He steps back with a hot glint in his eye so I can finally see his costume.
Call me Cinderella.
I almost fall over into his arms, swooning my life out like some awestruck regency romance heroine.
His formal uniform clings tight to the hard, tattooed muscle underneath.
It’s an elegant white jacket that’s almost tuxedo-like, studded with enough medals on one side to shame a Christmas tree.
The buttons part his magnificent chest evenly.
When I look up to his face again, I notice the final touch. I can’t stop laughing with amazement.
“A bow tie? Are you freaking kidding?”
“That was my touch. It’s not totally up to code, but close enough.” He smiles and shrugs. “Guess you’ve never seen a Navy dinner dress before. You wanted your prince, so here the fuck he is.”
“Um, I meant something more fairy tale like...”
His eyebrows shoot up.
“You’re telling me this ain’t good enough, Your Highness?” He thumps his chest, his eyes flashing knowingly.
My hand flutters out and flattens against his chest. I slowly skim my nails down his outfit, feeling his hard body underneath.
“I mean...we’ll make do,” I whisper, feeling faint.
Understatement of the century.
The man is a badass warrior, a knight, and a dream all rolled into one.
If it wasn’t for the tiny splash of ink sneaking out one cuff where his tattoo ends on the back of one hand, nobody would ever guess at the god underneath.
“Whatever. This monkey suit feels about as antiquated as this Bridgerton shit. Not my style, but orders are orders, and you’re queen of this bash tonight.” He winks.
The heat between my legs bristles.
Dear God.
I already want to rip it right off like he’s my own personal surprise present.
Something about the formal second skin only accents the perfection underneath. A reminder of how he can transport me to another place where the world drops out and I’m caught in steaming kisses and loud sighs.
“Shit, woman. Sometimes I think you’re hornier than I am.” His eyes tell me I’m not the only one having eye-sex here.
With a feral grin, Chris sneaks in a rough pat on the ass and takes my hand.
My thick dress muffles his touch, but it’s enough to get me moving, gladly holding him by the arm.
Meanwhile, the doorbell keeps ringing behind us every few minutes, letting in more of Marnie’s people, plus a few acquaintances from school.
Tonight, I’m thankful she handles all the party planning crap and joins in as co-host.
She may come without a filter, but she vets good people—mostly—the type who like to get plastered with drunken laughter and then sneak off with their dates.
We’ve never had anyone underhanded or high in this house who’d go stealing china or light a bathroom trash can on fire with a misplaced joint.
We saunter into the big dining room off the kitchen.
The massive doors yawn open to the back, welcoming everyone to fill the pool deck outside and the beach beyond.
Frowning, I see several people have already lost their suits and dresses. They’re stripped down to bare essentials and crowding the pool.
“That didn’t take long,” I say, tugging on Chris’ arm and pointing.
He chuckles. “What? You expect people to wander around all evening in these getups and bake? Let ’em cool off, Delia. I’ll help you do the same soon enough.”
I elbow him gently. I don’t like it when he chides me, even if he’s completely right.
Always so bossy and sure of himself.
He also knows how very little it takes to get me wet.
“You can hold the sass for later,” he growls. “Stop worrying about everybody else and enjoy yourself. This is your last big bash before school.”
Before I can say anything else, he leads me over to the bar, where I watch him ladle out premade punch for us.
He’s strangely light today, humming as he scoops ice into our glasses.
Wow.
What gives?
It’s like the weight of the world is off his shoulders. Or is he just trying too hard to seem carefree?
To paper over intense worries under the surface?
It’s hard to study his face without burning every time those green eyes draw me in.
“Cheers. Cool off.” Smiling, he shoves the punch into my hand, downs his in one gulp, and then refills his glass with beer from the huge keg next to the table. “Word of warning, we’re dancing when it kicks off later.”
“Um, what?” I almost spit out my drink. “I don’t dance, Chris. Especially when I’m wrapped up like a Delia sausage.”
“Fuck yeah, my favorite kind of meat,” he whispers in my ear.
I burst out laughing at how adorably dumb that sounds.
Apparently, it’s the signal he needs to grab me by the waist and flatten me against him.
For just a second, I see a heavy spark in his eyes I haven’t noticed since Vegas.
It’s not just my imagination.
And it’s different, but I’m not sure if it’s because we’re that in love, or because we’re both so afraid it could all come crashing down.
“Remember the night we met? How good we felt together on this beach? You danced real sweet for me, lady.” His hand slides down my hip, cupping my ass through the thick blue fabric.
Oh, like I could even try to forget.
“...that wasn’t exactly dancing. And it’s going to get crazy tonight for sure,” I whisper. “Marnie told the DJ to open with something classical. I mean, Jesus...all these drinks and Mozart? I hope nobody slips and breaks a kneecap.”
Knowing Marnie, the waltz will be a short-lived prank before she falls back on the usual playlist of hits probably cobbled together from whatever’s trending on TikTok.
“Bull,” Chris rumbles in my ear, his grip on my butt tightening. It makes me think about all the times he pulled my legs open, pushing his tongue into me. I shudder. “You dance like an angel without any clothes in the way. You can do it dolled up, too, princess. Have a little faith. Nobody—and I mean goddamned nobody—else here has anything on how gorgeous you are.”
Welp.
There goes any notion of standing under my own will.
I go down swooning and I’m not even ashamed.
His free hand sweeps over my face as I collapse against his chest, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
“Maybe you need a reminder you’re mine, Cordelia Burr. That means I don’t give a single shit if everybody knows it. Hell, I want every asshole jock in the house to eat his fucking heart out when he sees your lips on mine. I want ’em to shake their girls all night because they’ll be that jealous, that pissed off that they’ll never have a girl like you who’s prettier than every damn sunset she’ll ever paint. And those paintings are glorious.”
Floored.
I’m speechless as he brushes a finger over my lips, signaling he isn’t done.
“Chris...”
“Hush. I want every rich dick in the city to know how amazing you are and wonder how the hell I got so lucky. Let ’em see how hard I’ll fight if anybody ever comes sniffing at what’s mine. Even if I’m not around to keep you under lock and key from dusk till dawn.” He pauses to kiss my neck, between my shoulder and ear, and my hips instinctively tilt into his. “That’s you, babe. All mine. Forever. No going back.”
Seriously.
How the heck are we supposed to dance when I’m already coming apart?
And what did he mean about not being around?
Is he about to leave without telling me?
“So, are you trying to kill me with a sugar overload?” I ask, smiling up into his eyes. “And is everything okay?”
“Never better,” he says without missing a beat.
Weird.
“You just seem... I don’t know. Kinda optimistic tonight,” I venture, though I’m not sure that’s the right word.
He smiles. “I’ve done a lot of thinking and I’m feeling damn good about the future. We’ll figure out some way to break the news about us to your old man when he comes home without him wanting to tear my head off. We’re a couple, Delia. I’m telling you and everybody else, here and now.”
My mouth falls open.
My heart sputters, falters before I can catch my breath.
His iron grip releases, and I stumble back a step, eyeing the bar. I need a break and I need freaking air after taking all this in.
I could use a liquid distraction before I lose my mind.
“Why tonight? Why now?” I ask softly, leading him over to the bar. “Is something up?”
“Nothing you need to worry about, princess. Just all the ways I’m gonna fuck you through the floor tonight.” His smile sharpens, and that appetite in his green eyes I know too well turns them into spotlights. “You think we’re good? Just wait till you see what feeling you dancing against me for hours does before I get you alone...”
Goosebumps.
Goosebumps flipping everywhere.
I can’t resist as he moves in for another kiss.
My panties are past uncomfortably soaked, and it’s going to be a long haul to heading upstairs, or wherever the hell he plans to take me for the grand finale.
“Cordie! There you are! Is it just the costumes or do you two always do this?” Marnie’s voice darts in behind me.
I’m beet red by the time we break our kiss and turn around.
Crap.
She’s got her biggest gloat face on, staring like she just caught our whole arms down the cookie jar.
Except the cookie jar is my ass and Chris’ hands go nowhere even when she’s staring with glassy amused eyes.
“Good to see you too, Marnie,” Chris says. “We were going to save it for the dance floor, but I guess you’ve got an early preview. Here’s one more.”
I freeze as he pulls me in for another searing kiss that melts me down.
My palms slap his chest, fingernails digging at his clothes, wondering if he’s lost his mind.
But something about having Marnie watching him devour me makes the heat greater, more intense, moving through my body like lightning.
When he finally breaks away and I look up, her nasty smile is gone. She’s gawking at us like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. And Marnie doesn’t do speechless—until now.
“Holy shit. Um, I knew you guys were...but I didn’t think you were actually...wow. Wow, you’re serious.” She coughs violently before coming back to her senses. “Cordelia. You owe me a brunch date like yesterday. Anybody got a time machine here?”
She looks around, wiping sweat from her brow.
“Let’s do that date now. Ask your questions.” Chris beams at her and doesn’t let up.
But she stares at him, her mouth open and forming different shapes, the most dumbstruck look I’ve ever seen on anyone.
I want to laugh, but he does it for me, chuckling in his rich, sexy baritone.
“...maybe later? Sorry, guys, I just realized I...I’d better see where Erik went!” She’s practically running when she turns away, moving as fast as her black widow vampire slayer heels will carry her.
“See? You can’t tell me that was bad,” Chris says, grabbing my hand and planting his lips on the back.
“No, but once she gets her wits back...there will be questions. I hope you’re ready. And Marnie’s the easy one versus Dad...”
“Delia, if keeping you just means a few hours of long-winded bullshit, let ’em ask until they’re blue in the face.”
And he kisses my hand again, wrapping his other arm around my waist, sweeping me back into the massive shield of his chest.
Point made.
When I’m wrapped up in this man, how could anything ever hurt us?
* * *
Hours blur by, and our souls are still crashing on the makeshift dance floor under the stars.
I’ve never needed him this badly.
Never felt this turned on.
Never had every molecule of my skin vibrating and pleading to stay pressed so tight to his.
Heavy bass beats throb in my ears every time I lift my head off his chest.
But Chris just presses it back down with a possessive growl, his hands roaming my body, guiding me with grace and power in the patio dance space not far from the pool.
When we first started, all eyes were on us.
I think a couple people turned away in disgust the first time he put his mouth on mine, knowing what we are, but they were sparse.
Everybody else?
They freaking applauded—even Marnie gave me this starry-eyed look, clapping her hands wildly.
I don’t want this fairy-tale night to end.
“You think anyone will notice if I hike up that skirt and mount you right here? Are they drunk enough yet?” he rasps in my ear as our bodies lurch together one more time.
“Behave, Christopher,” I gasp back, hoping I can slow down the beast dragging his hands all over me, grinding my hips into his in a way that’s already too sensual.
He’s right about one thing, though—everybody is too wasted to notice.
We’re one of the only couples still on our feet, moving to the music, ever since night rolled in and the stars came out to play.
Half the party lounges in the pool, floating on inflatables or piling into the long chairs around it. The rest of the guests are sprinkled across the beach, settled in quiet corners under blankets or quietly drinking their fill of their dates.
It’s young lust and revelry at its finest.
Hormones are thick in the air, but it’s one man’s scent that’s completely intoxicating.
“Fuck.” His hands pinch my ass tighter, so hard I grind against the insane ridge in his trousers. “You call me Christopher again, and I will fuck you right here, Delia. Don’t care what anybody thinks.”
“Yeah? Are you sure it’s just the guests we should worry about?” I say carefully, wondering if I should even hint at Evie.
It’s a legit worry after what happened over dinner the other night. I tried to tell him.
And since Dad left for the airport, I haven’t seen my stepmother all day.
It’s almost too quiet if she’s still upstairs somewhere, looking down on the party below. I can imagine the bitter scowl on her face, the hate in her eyes watching us having a good time.
Chris snorts, silencing me with a sultry kiss.
“Forget her, babe. She’s probably too whacked out on self-pity to know what a fucking window is, much less find us. Your old man’s a goddamn saint for putting up with her for so long.”
His lips curl back and he sighs, no doubt grieving having to call her mother for the millionth time.
