11. Eleven

Eleven

I run a red lipstick over my lips and smooth the slinky, knee-length black dress across my hips. With thin spaghetti straps, the silky material clings in all the right places and makes it decently indecent. I smooth my straightened hair over my shoulder, give myself one final once-over in the mirror, and head into the walk-in wardrobe.

Art's tweaking his hair in the mirror. Slim-fitting deep-blue jeans fit tight around his firm behind. An ink-blue shirt hugs to him like a second skin and sets off his tan. The top three buttons are undone, providing a teasing glimpse of what lies beneath. He looks hot. I lean against the doorframe and fold my arms to stop myself from jumping him.

He notices me in the doorway and does a double take.

I self-consciously fiddle with one of the straps of the dress. "I'm worried this dress might be too much. Is it okay? "

His eyes remain glued on me. "I think we're going to be late."

I fix him with a firm look. "Your mum's gone to a lot of trouble, organising tonight for us. We can't be late."

He puts his hands on my shoulders and guides me backwards against the wall. "It's our party. We can do what we want." His hands skim my breasts, gliding down to the curves of my waist. He rests his forehead against mine and looks deep into my eyes. "I'm sure she won't mind if we're a little late."

Soft lips graze my neck. I close my eyes and swallow. I can't resist him. And he knows it. I slide my hands down his taut, firm abs and curl my fingers around his groin. My centre throbs. He's so hard for me. We've barely touched.

"You're beautiful, but when you look like this … Jesus." His words caress my skin, making me tingle all over.

I unfasten his jeans and push my hand inside, feeling the dampness of his arousal against my palm. He groans, warm breath fanning against my collarbone, sending an electric current to my core.

"I want your red lips around my cock."

Fuck.

I'm torn.

At this rate, we're going to be late. One of us needs to be sensible and rein ourselves in, and I know it won't be him. Despite his and Barbara's assurances that she really doesn't mind planning our party, I still can't help but feel a bit guilty. Rocking up an hour late is out of the question.

"We mustn't." I remove my hand from inside his jeans and fasten them up. "One of us needs to be sensible. We really haven't got time."

He lifts his eyebrows to show his disapproval and kneels in front of me.

He's not listening.

A playful smile dances across his lips as he glides his hands beneath my dress, tracing his fingertips up the outside of my thighs, teasingly slow.

Shit.

If anything could crumble my resolve, it's this .

A shiver of need runs through me, and I relax against the wall. Two seconds ago, I was worried about us being late. Now, I don't want him to stop. His fingers pause at my black lace knickers before he tugs them off and hitches my dress up to my waist.

Hungry eyes rake up my body. "You have no idea how much it turns me on to know you're ready for me to fuck you."

I'm captivated, my feet rooted to the spot as I wait for him to do whatever he's about to. He lifts up my right foot, slips my underwear off, and then does the same with the left. I know he's distracting me, like he always does, to get what he wants, and this time, I don't care. I'm aching for him. And when his firm, hot tongue slowly licks my clitoris, all thoughts about being late to the party are banished to the back of my mind. I sag back against the wall as he gives me what I want, moaning as he repeats the motion.

"Don't stop."

But he doesn't obey. I snap open my eyes at the feel of his lips leaving my throbbing clit.

He smirks and gets to his feet, tugging my dress down.

"We definitely don't have time for that." He throws my words from a few seconds earlier back at me.

He's brought me as close to the edge as he is and then backed away. He's getting his own back.

I force myself to regain some composure. "I need my underwear. I can't turn up to our engagement party knickerless."

"Of course you can." He tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear and presses a kiss to my lips. "No one will know. It will just be our secret. And it's one less thing for me to rip off later." His eyes level with mine. "Because when we get home, I'm going to punish you for teasing me."

The word punish should have me worried, but it doesn't. The throb between my legs tells me I like the idea—maybe more than I should.

"How?" I whisper .

He catches my bottom lip between his teeth and then releases it. "I'm going to make you beg."

Fuck.

He takes me by the hand, smiling. "Come on. Like you said, we can't be late."

The early evening sunshine beats down on the Surrey countryside as we pull up outside the front of Barbara's house. Nerves bubble to the surface as I glance across at the rows of cars parked on the driveway,

"Your mum said fifty guests are coming," I say worriedly, unlatching my seat belt. "That's quite a lot of people to cater for."

"It'll be fine." He rests a reassuring hand on top of mine. "Mum's an old hand at this stuff."

"It's not that. It's just … all these people are here to see us. I'm used to being the one who does all the planning in the background, so other people are the centre of attention. I stay backstage. I'm not used to being in the spotlight. Not to mention, it's the first time our parents will meet."

"Well, now's your time to shine. People have come to celebrate our happy news with us. And our parents will get on fine. Between your mum and mine, poor old Martin won't be able to get a word in. Stop worrying. It's our evening." He gives my hand a squeeze. "Now, come on. I want to show off my beautiful fiancée."

The faint sound of music and chatter can be heard coming from the back of the house as we climb out of the car.

"Sounds as if everyone's in the garden," Art says. "We might as well go round the side."

We walk hand in hand across the grass and round to the back garden.

He flicks me a grin. "How's going commando suiting you? "

"It's breezy." I throw him a pointed look. "And you need to be on your best behaviour this evening."

He laughs. "I'm not making any promises. Especially when you look like that. I might have to drag you off somewhere and have my wicked way with you."

"I mean it. Our parents are here, so you need to keep your hands to yourself," I warn him because if he does try anything, I won't be able to resist him.

"Okay, okay. I'll be good. Scout's honour." He flashes me a cheeky grin. "Until I get you home."

I don't get time to question what the hell he's got planned as we turn the corner of the house and arrive at the patio. The whole of the terrace and garden is filled with guests, eating and drinking. Some are sitting on white patio furniture beneath large parasols, and others are standing in groups, chatting and laughing. Waiters dressed in smart black uniforms are scurrying around, holding silver trays and black slates filled with glasses of champagne and delicious-looking canapés. Everyone seems to be having a good time. It all looks wonderful.

"Your mum's really gone all out with this."

"Yeah, well … that's Mum for you."

"Here they are! Art and Sophie, everyone," Barbara calls out as she catches sight of us. Her long black-and-white spotted chiffon dress floats in the breeze as she rushes over to greet us. She pulls me into a hug. "You look beautiful, Sophie dear. I trust he's been looking after you." She lets me go and nods towards Art.

I smile politely. "Of course."

"Always, Mum." Art gives her a peck on the cheek.

I glance around the garden. "This looks fabulous, Barbara. You really shouldn't have gone to all this trouble."

"Nonsense." She laughs. "I love it, and it's so wonderful to welcome you into the family." She gives Art a pointed look. "I was worried I would never see the day. Now, you enjoy yourselves and go and greet your guests. There's plenty of food and drink."

Art links his fingers through mine as we watch Barbara hurry off in the direction of the kitchen. "See, I told you, you've nothing to worry about. "

"I suppose," I say, although I still can't help but feel a tiny bit guilty.

Lucy and Big Steve appear, hand in hand.

"Nice mansion, Art." Lucy smirks, giving me a knowing look.

Her blonde hair is hanging loose over her shoulders, and she's wearing a white summer dress. Judging by the twinkle in her eyes and flush to her cheeks, things are looking up between her and Big Steve.

The black suit he wears makes him look bigger and broader than ever. He gives me a kiss on the cheek. "Congratulations." He offers Art his hand to shake. "Congratulations, boss."

Art smiles and shakes it. "Thanks, but technically, I'm not your boss any longer. The ownership of the club transferred over to you midday today."

"Ooh." Lucy places her hand on Steve's chest. "You're the boss now, Steve."

"It's in safe hands," he assures Art.

"I know. That's why I wanted you to take over." Art slides an arm around my waist. "And after all the shit with Jamie, I just wanted it gone."

"I'm glad it has," I admit.

Art kisses me on the cheek. "I know. It's the start of a new chapter for us."

I beam. Finally, we have left our pasts behind and are moving forward.