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I fucking love it.
She pulls away, a suppressed grin attempting to fight through when she returns her attention to her plate. I fix her hair, back to the way it was before I swept it behind her ear.
Eyes are on us right now, I can feel them, and I’ll let Kennedy believe this is all for show, but in truth, I’ve been dying for her to let me touch her for years. Been dying to have her attention. Been dying to simply sit and eat dinner next to the girl.
Wouldn’t mind if she caught up on that same need, but I’ll let her believe faking it is enough for now.
Henry and Jennifer are busy speaking with the Smiths so Mallory turns her attention to us. “I was wondering where you went off to the night of my bachelorette party.” Her eyes zero in on the ring on Kennedy’s finger—my mom’s ring. “I guess now we know.”
Kennedy is stiff in her seat next to me so I gently drape my arm on the back of her chair, fingertips toying with the strap of her dress.
She doesn’t flinch.
Mallory continues, still staring at Kennedy’s left hand. “Quite a downgrade if you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask you,” my wife shoots back.
Her body is tense, and not from my touch, so I try to distract her by brushing my fingertips along the top of her shoulder, dusting the back of her neck.
Connor tracks the whole thing.
“I’m just saying,” Mallory continues. “Compared to your last ring, this one is—”
“Something I actually like.” Kennedy reaches over the table to clasp my other hand. “If you’re so obsessed with my previous engagement ring, Mallory, why don’t you ask for it from the man who gave it to me.”
Mallory’s lips thin. “I don’t want it. I love mine.” Her fingers wiggle to show off the diamond that is much smaller and more subtle than the one Kennedy used to wear.
To be frank, it looks much more like Kennedy’s style than her previous ring.
I lean in close, running a soothing palm down her arm. “You good still?”
She nods, a small but proud smile on her face. Maybe for putting her stepsister in place. Maybe for not recoiling at my touch.
I decide to test the theory by moving my palm to her upper leg, under the table, fingers curling on the inside of her thigh.
Her hand that’s holding mine on the table grips tighter.
I lean down to whisper, “Tell me to stop.”
She shakes her head no.
With a knowing grin on my lips, I inch my hand higher.
Words are spoken, but I’m not paying attention.
I’m only watching Kennedy, noting the quickening of her pulse as I run my hand over her thigh.
She bites her lip and it reads as if she were nervous.
I give her leg a squeeze. “Kick my foot under the table.”
“No,” she breathes.
Fuck.
Instead, Kennedy slightly widens her knees, giving me another couple of inches I could travel north, and I swear to God, I’m on the brink of losing it thanks to her permission.
“Connor will be taking over the company when I retire,” Henry tells his guests. “My son, Dean, over there wanted no part of the family business. He wanted to play a game as his career, so we’re lucky that my soon-to-be son-in-law has the business sense that he does.”
