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Jealous?
My eyes drifted back to Clara and time seemed to slow. She was truly happy in this moment, loose with alcohol and surrounded by the people she loved most.
Glittering like a bird of paradise.
Ocean eyes alight, smile beaming, hair falling like a black waterfall down her shoulders, diamonds gleaming like starlight on her throat.
Of course he was jealous, she was worth it.
The room was getting louder the drunker everyone got. It took less than an hour for the cake to be demolished. The staff revealed an enormous champagne tower and Candice made Clara stand in front of it and get her picture taken before anyone could take a glass.
It was all a bit overstimulating. I needed a breath of fresh air so I ducked out the side door and stepped onto the lawn. Outside, it was humid, but just having some space helped clear my head.
I didn’t enjoy crowds.
Feeling guilty, I stepped further into the bushes and had a cigarette. I never smoked anymore except socially. I never really had the urge. But tonight, there was a sense of confusion in my chest I couldn’t shake.
It was nothing, I told myself.
Just a lot of change happening at once and Clara had been right that I didn’t like it.
I finished my cigarette and went back inside. Clara was by herself at the bar, leaning on her elbow as she waited on her drink. I crossed the room and moved up behind her, reaching out to ask the bartender for another bourbon.
She looked down, not turning, and I felt her eyes fix on my hand laying on the counter. Was she looking at my watch?
Before I could react, she stepped back and pressed her ass into my groin and ground it lightly against my dick.
I froze, my ears roaring.
What the fuck?
In that millisecond, I was aware of everything. The soft curves of her ass through her skirt nestled up against my…erection.
Oh God, no, I was hard. Not just a little bit, no, I was fully hard, fully expanded. My dick crushed under my zipper and I knew she felt every inch of me.
Her body stiffened as she realized something was off. Panic spiked and I stepped back, turning and ducking into the crowd. Sliding into the shadows of the room just in time to see her turn.
Her face was flushed and her brows pulled together with confusion. She pivoted slowly, looking for someone.
For Osian?
I looked down at my watch and it all fell into place. Osian and I had worn the same watch and—like every man here—we also wore the same tux.
A muddled sense of relief flooded my chest.
She’d thought I was Osian.
But that didn’t fix the very obvious problem in my pants. I needed to get to a bathroom before I made a spectacle of myself.
Luckily there was one just a few feet down the hall behind me. I ducked inside and locked the door, ripping off my jacket. My collar was soaked and the front of my pants strained.
I met my eyes in the mirror as it sank in what had just happened.
Clara had just gotten me hard. I’d lived with her for six years and never once had she given me an erection. Not when she walked into the kitchen without a bra, not when her shorts rode up and showed the bottom of her ass.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I breathed.
My fingers shook slightly as I undid my belt and opened my pants.
