Someone Like You

Chapter Thirty

Zander

After her brief moment of panic, the rest of the evening has gone somewhat smoothly.

The bridal party getting their photos post ceremony dragged on for what felt like an eon. Both Brea and I are pretty buzzed at this point, since it took so long for the next part of the wedding to kick off.

Brea wasn't herself the entire beginning of the night, but after a few drinks, she has regained her composure, and the sparkle in her eyes has returned. I hope this wedding turns out to be a good thing for her. Closing the door on a part of her life that she does not belong to anymore.

A shadow falls over our table, and I glance up, seeing Olivia glaring down at us, her picture-perfect smile painted on her face. Her dark hair is pulled back into a low bun, stuck together with what looks like a thousand pins.

"Hello," she says in a clipped, frosty tone. "Brea."

"Olivia," Brea replies in the same tone, those pretty eyes of hers narrowing into slits. I smirk a little. I like seeing this feisty side to her. "This is my boyfriend, Zander."

Boyfriend. That word sounds sexy as hell coming out of her mouth. Throwing out my hand, I briefly shake hers, even though I really don't feel like being anywhere near this woman.

"Pleasure," she says.

"Wish I could say the same." The words tumble from my lips before I think twice about it, and her chin jerks like I physically slapped her.

"Great party!" Brea says, throwing her glass up, the champagne sloshing over the sides. Her cheeks are rosy, and her eyes shining under the golden lights. My God, she is stunning.

Olivia wears a cold expression on her face as she stares down at Brea.

"Interesting choice of dress," she clips.

"It made me think of you," Brea replies sweetly.

Olivia makes a sound in her throat that reveals how displeased she is. Turning, she stalks away from us. Gianna snickers, and Brea shrugs it off, not looking phased about the encounter. She is rosy-cheeked and smiling. I'm glad she seems to be having a good time, despite the awkward situation.

The bass of the music thumps loudly, and she gets to her feet, extending both hands toward me.

"Nope," I say immediately, shaking my head. "I don't dance."

"Yes, you do."

"I really don't."

"You will, if you want to get lucky tonight."

I consider this.

When I stand, she grins, circling her fingers around mine, tugging me toward the dance floor. It feels like every pair of eyes is on us as we move to the beat. I drag her toward me, pressing her body into mine, running my hands possessively down her sides, resting them on her backside.

Warmth spreads through me. I crave her. Every minute, of every day. Crave her to be so close, we are touching.

Leaning down, I dive toward her mouth, claiming it almost a little aggressively. She moans, her tongues clashing as the kiss deepens into something that isn't appropriate in the public eye. We breathlessly part, and she gazes up at me, a smirk dancing around her lips.