Page 28 of Blurry Little Lines
“Stop reminding me.” I groan. I don’t mind my worn-in heels for work. My feet are accustomed to those. Event heels are too fancy and usually result in blisters, no matter how much money the designer claims to sellcomfortfor.
With a hand placed on my lower back, I follow Max’s lead into my family’s large hotel ballroom. My eyes scout out my first glass of champagne and my mother. I hear people beside me talk about the beauty of this room, and I realize how desensitized I’ve become from growing up here. The large crystal chandeliers sparkle above in the warm yellow light around us. This room is romantic, with its cream marble floors and pillars. The artwork on the ceiling is breathtaking, and the large staircase with its balcony had always been my favorite as a little girl. I pictured walking down it to my forever prince charming standing in a pathway of candles. My prince would await my descent as I’d stop the crowd's chatter at the site of my pretty dress. Man, does life throw curveballs.
“Breathe, baby girl.” Max lowers his lips to my ear and pulls me out of my trance. I’m liking this nickname a lot more than “half pint” these days.
“I’m fine.” I suppress the way his voice is affecting my lower region and continue to scan the room. “I thought Willow Beaumont wasn’t coming tonight.” If there was anyone I hated most in high school, or any day, really, it was her. Her and her perfect smile full of conniving gossip and hatred. Her innocent act in high school made me sick, knowing she slept with Maxandmy brother. Everything about her was for show. Before I can look away, she spots me, and her flawless face lights up as she walks over. I want to curl into Max and hide, but that would only make matters worse.
“Kelsie,” she chimes. “You look gorgeous. Might I say, a divorced woman can still wear white beautifully.” My dress is a long cream silk piece my mother reserved for me. “Your left hand must feel much freer without that heavy rock weighing it down.” I can’t call her a fucking bitch in a crowd, so I do what feels right. I walk away without a word.
“I hate her too.” Max follows behind me as I spot my mother at a table. “Your composure is award-winning. I would not have been able to walk away like that.” He chuckles. “Well played.”
“I have nothing to say to that snobby skank.” I remember how the girls back in high school thought they could belittle me because, well, I’m little. I didn’t think it would transpose into adulthood, especially with my financial status and family name. But I’ve dealt with catty women thinking height measures dominance, and they sure as hell let me know it.
My mother smiles as she sees us approach, then excuses herself from a friend of hers.
“Kelsie, you’re a work of art, darling.” She kisses my cheek. “Were the kids all right leaving without you?”
“They couldn’t leave soon enough,” I admit with a pout. “I bet they won’t want to come back home.” I can see the tantrums now, and wonder how Lauren and Adam will convince the kids to get back on the plane.
“You’ll survive some time apart.” My mom hands me a flute of champagne. “Max, my other son, you look phenomenal in a suit. You should wear one more often.” I can’t disagree with her there. Except the son part, because in no way is he like a brother to me. Max is sinfully charming, and it’s making me question why we left my penthouse when he walked out of his room looking like he does tonight.
“I love activewear too much to rock a suit all day.” He smiles, opening his arm to give her a side hug. “You’re looking as beautiful as ever, Helen.”
“Such a sweetheart. Well, I’ll let Kelsie get to making rounds, because I know how thrilled she is to be here.” My mother talks to Max as if I’m never around to hear. It happens all the time. “Max, save a dance for me, all right?”
He winks, solidifying the promise to her, and I go about spending the next hour mingling like a good employee and daughter is supposed to. An old client of my family asks for a dance, and though I haven’t seen him in probably fifteen years, I oblige. I can’t tell if he is trying to hit on me while we dance, but his hand is certainly moving lower every few steps we take on the dancefloor.
“Dance with me.” Max’s tone is not a question.
“I’d love to.” He rescues me from a boring conversation and the skin-crawling touch of my father’s friend. “It was lovely catching up.” I smile before turning away from Alfred.
Max shoots a glare toward Alfred and pulls me flush against him. I stumble at the force, but his grip steadies me. Max’s manhandling flips my stomach, and I want more of that roughness from him. I can’t help it.
“If that fucker’s hand got any lower, I would have had to snap it off,” Max grumbles in my ear and places his hand even lower than Alfred had his on the small of my back.
“Are you stalking me?” I giggle as we start to sway. “I thought you were enjoying a drink and dancing with my mom.”
“I was, but your mother saw me tracking your every move and interaction to make sure people were playing nice.” He readjusts our hands that are held out to the side and tightens his grip, engulfing mine. “She told me to save you because Alfred is known to be handsy.”
“And what do you think you’re doing?” I cock a brow and tighten my fingers resting on his shoulder. “I believe the way you’re holding me right now is staking a claim.” Insecurity is creeping in and the worry of nosy elite eyes. “People are going to start talking, Max.” My voice trails off quietly.
“No one else deserves to lay a fucking hand on your precious body except me.” His tone is deep and masculine and leaves me woozy.
“Who gave you that authority?” Knowing how much it irritates him, I let innocence lace my voice. “I’m sure if I asked Alfred if he could dish out an earth-shattering orgasm, he’d be willing to assist.”
I’m spun out so quickly I nearly lose my footing before I’m jerked back into Max’s firm, intoxicating chest. “Your body’s reaction to my proximity did.” His finger brushes the side of my neck and down my arm before connecting with my hand again. “Your pulse is racing the same as it was last night.” The look in his hooded eyes sparks the pulse of need between my legs.
“Is this how you get most women to end up having sex with you?” I try to break the moment because, for a second, I forgot we are in public. “You inform them how their body reacts to you and they go along with it?”
“Kelsie, I’m not discussing that with you.”
“Come on, I want to know your go-to move,” I beg as the music changes to an upbeat tempo. “I bet you give them that sweet, charming boy next door grin and they melt for you.”
“I’m everything but sweet and charming, half pint.” With the intentional use of that name, my jaw tightens.
“Stop calling me that. I’m an adult.” I smirk and press my body against his. “One who can do dirty things.” I’m not used to verbalizing racy thoughts, so it comes out higher pitched and almost forced.
“Kelsie, you’re too sweet for me to corrupt.” His demeanor, that was lustful a moment ago, changes back to that of my caring, protective friend.