Page 128 of Rush

He notices the shift. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

I hesitate, biting my lip. “Avery said she wanted to fuck you tonight.”

He barks a laugh. Not the reaction I’d hoped for.

My stomach sinks. I look away.

“Hey.” He tilts my chin up. “How can you say that while my cum is still dripping down your legs?

“I’m busy tonight anyway,” he says, eyes locked on mine.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” His voice drops. “Fuckingyou.”

I roll my eyes, but my lips betray me with a smile.

“Come on,” he murmurs, kissing me once more. “We should get back before your sister starts hunting us down.”

I sigh, smoothing my hands down my dress again. “Yeah. Because that would be fun to explain. Again.”

He laughs and offers me his arm like the perfect gentleman—which only makes the whole thing more ridiculous.

As we slip back into the party, blending into the swirl of guests, the weight of his hand at the small of my back.

I want to hold onto this—whateverthisis—for as long as I can.

Because while Broderick still wants me, still touches me like this, the ache for Alex stays quiet.

Sex. No feelings. And I’m doing my best to pretend I still believe that’s all it is.

The reception is already in full swing by the time we slip into the Grand Ballroom, trailing behind the rest of the bridal party. Everything is bathed in soft ambient light—chandeliers glittering overhead, champagne glasses clinking in harmony with the low hum of conversation and music. The tented walls have been pulled back to reveal the gardens, now strung with fairy lights that cast a dreamy glow across the night.

Philippa and Andrew are radiant, gliding from guest to guest, all smiles and grace—the perfect couple in the perfect moment. I hover near the edge of the room, watching as Broderick laughs with Jack, glass in hand, looking maddeningly good in his suit—as if he hadn’t had his hands all over me hours ago.

I sip my champagne, feeling the buzz of the day and the weight of everything unsaid—the remnants of last night with Philippa, and Mortimer’s speech that cracked something open inside me. The band shifts into something slower, and the announcement for the father-daughter dance drifts across the room like it isn’t about to gut me.

The string quartet begins“My Girl”by the Temptations. Mortimer steps onto the floor, straightening his jacket before offering Philippa his hand. She takes it, glowing and proud, the picture of perfection. They move together effortlessly, twirling beneath the chandeliers, and a lump rises hard in my throat.

I want to be happy for her. Iamhappy for her. But I can’t pretend watching them doesn’t sting in places I don’t want to admit.

How I wish I had that with him.

The music swells—just as my chest tightens to the point of breaking, warm arms slide around me from behind.

Riley. Her chin rests on my shoulder, her arms cinched around my waist holding me together by sheer force.

She doesn’t speak—she doesn’t have to. I lean back into her, grateful beyond words, blinking fast as Philippa and Mortimer glide across the floor, laughing so naturally with one another.

“You good?” Riley whispers, just loud enough for me to hear.

I nod, though my answer wavers. “Yeah. I mean…no. But yeah.”

She squeezes me tighter. “I’ve got you, babe.”

A tear slips free before I can stop it. And for the first time that day, I don’t fight it. I let myself feel.

Chapter 15