Page 20 of Louder Than Words

And the best part? She’s allmine.

The long black dress hugs every curve, and the way it moves with her makes my mouth go dry. I’m already thinking about skipping the whole event—just tossing her over my shoulder and disappearing upstairs until she’s screamed my name so many times she forgets her own.

There’s even a slit up the side, showing just enough leg to make my knees forget how to function.

Her auburn curls fall in soft waves around her face, framing the smile I haven’t stopped thinking about since the moment her bloody trolley crashed into my ankle.

My brain short-circuits as she walks toward me, clutching her purse like it’s the only thing tethering her to the earth. She stops in front of me and offers a shy smile.

I reach for her hand and bring it to my lips. My eyes find hers as I press a soft kiss to her knuckles, breathing in the scent of her perfume—the same one that always manages to silence every anxious thought.

She snickers. “Such a gentleman.”

“Not for long,” I murmur with a wink, kissing her hand again before finally letting go.

Her cheeks flush, and I catch the flicker in her eyes, like she’s replaying every word I just said.

I half think about repeating it, just to watch her pupils dilate even more—until a low whistle from none other than Desmond cuts through the silence. He strides up and stops beside Allie just as I look over.

“Damn. I think I’m into MILFs now,” he says, sticking out a hand.

My cheeks instantly burn, but before the apology can spew past my lips, Allie just laughs and takes it.

“I’ll be sure to rally up my mom friends,” she says through a chuckle, her eyes flicking back to mine.

Desmond groans, drops her hand, and claps me hard on the back. “This one’s definitely a keeper.”

My fingers immediately find the bridge of my nose while I bite back a smile. But damned if he isn’t right.

Allie’s hand slips easily into mine. “You ready, love?” I ask, giving it a squeeze.

She smiles, leaning just slightly into me. “Only if you are,” she murmurs, then winks. “Rock star.”

It’s honestly a miracle I’m still standing. The wink. That dress. The wayrock starrolled off her tongue.

Before I can stop myself, I pull her in and press my lips to hers.

We ignore the oohs and ahhs erupting from our so-called friends. All I can focus on is how soft her lips are, and how much I’ve truly missed this. Sure, we sneak in kisses when we can, but with the girls always around and me not staying over, that’s about as far as it goes. So yeah, they’ll have to forgive me for giving in to my impulses.

“All right, lovebirds, take it down a notch,” Don booms, clapping me on the back before dragging me off Allie. “You don’t want to be late to your own party.”

I beg to differ.

The walk to the car takes a solid ten minutes. The drive to the hotel, maybe thirty. But it only takes three seconds for my heart to lodge in my throat the second I look out the window and see just how many people showed up.

And just when I thought I was finally starting to feel okay about everything—maybe even a little confident—it all shatters like glass. Splintering. Crashing. Falling apart at my feet.

Fight or flight kicks in, and every cell in my body screamsrunas my chest tightens and quickly starts to heave. My palms sweat, and my eyes dart frantically over the front of the hotel—cameras flashing, people clapping, even a bloody mini red carpet stretches out along the entrance—and it’s fuckingpacked.

Why the hell is it so packed?

“Holy shit,” James breathes.

Gareth doesn’t take his eyes off the entrance. “Tell me about it.”

Why the fuck is it that every time Don’s in charge of the guest list, he acts like estimating numbers is a foreign concept? First the meet-and-greet. Then the show. And now the bloody release party.

And this is a hell of a lot more than the thirty people he swore by.