shuhaige
Chapter 33
“Preston, you have to wear the T-shirt.”
I stare at my sister, questioning how much I actually love her for what she’s asking me to do. “Peyton,” I begin, saying her name nice and slow. She stares at me with the same wide eyes that used to get her anything she wanted out of me when she was a kid. “I’m not wearing a cheesy bachelor party shirt that says ‘I’m on a yacht before tying the knot.’”
Peyton juts out her bottom lip and takes a step closer to me. She grabs my hands and takes them in hers. She’s close enough that I can see that she got sunburnt earlier today during the tennis matches. “It’s fun. Jackson and I didn’t want to do individual parties, so we combined our bachelor and bachelorette parties, but I didn’t want to miss out on the cute, corny T-shirts.”
My eyes dart to the people around us. We’re waiting on a dock for the rest of the wedding party to arrive before starting the celebrations for tonight. I’m thrilled. “P, Mom and Dad chartered us a yacht for the night—where we were told to dress nice—and you want to put these on?” I hold up the T-shirt in question. The cotton is rough against my skin, and just by holding it up, I can already tell it isn’t going to fit right.
“Do it for me. Please. It’ll be fun. We can take a few pictures in them, and then you can change if you want.”
“Look who I found!” Emma calls from down the dock. She disappeared fifteen minutes ago, saying she wanted to go check out one of the gift shops. I was about to go looking for her, not wanting to spend much time away from her at all after the day we had.
“Gram!” Peyton excitedly cheers, forgetting all about me and running down the dock to Emma and Gram.
“I can’t believe you invited me to your bachelorette party,” Gram quips, rocking the T-shirt Peyton is so desperately begging me to wear. “Shouldn’t you have strippers at yours? Grandmothers don’t belong at bachelorette parties.”
Emma lets out a loud gasp. “No, you’re the life of the party, Gram. Of course, you’re here.”
It’s only now I notice that somehow Peyton’s managed to get Emma in one of the cheesy T-shirts. I took a phone call from my agent for a few minutes not too long ago, but I didn’t think Emma came back in that time. Apparently, I was wrong.
“Exactly,” Peyton chimes in, smiling as she takes in the matching shirts both Gram and Emma are wearing. I frown, knowing any minute now, Peyton’s attention will return to me, and she’s going to beg me to put on that damn shirt.
I look back, glaring over my shoulder for a minute at Jackson. Not only is he wearing the T-shirt proudly, but he’s even wearing a temporary tattoo of Peyton’s face on his bicep that he shows off to anyone he talks to.
Gram lets out a grunt as they come to a stop right next to me. She stares at the yacht our parents chartered for Peyton and Jackson in front of us. Her eyes narrow before she reaches into the small purse at her side. She pulls her glasses onto her face, her eyes still focused on the yacht we’re about to board.
“Peyton, darling.” Gram pulls her eyes from the yacht and wraps an arm around Peyton.
“Yes, Gram?”
“Why is there nothing penis-shaped at this party?”
“Gram, I never want to hear the word ‘penis’ from your mouth ever again.” Peyton shivers.
“They’re ready for us!” Mom calls, taking the hand of one of the crew members as he escorts her up the stairs to the boat.
Peyton excitedly claps before she throws the T-shirt at me. “Put it on, Preston. Let’s go celebrate one of my final nights as a Rhodes!” She runs away before she can hear any of my protests.
“Put the damn shirt on, and let’s go, Pres,” Gram chimes in. She gives me a look that leaves little up for discussion.
Emma smiles at me, clearly aware of how little I want to wear this shirt. She’s wearing hers proudly. It’s tied at the side, covering the pale yellow dress she wore for the party tonight. If Gram wasn’t standing within earshot, I’d tell her how I hate the T-shirt and not because it’s cheesy but because it hides the perfect swell of her breasts.
When we left the spa, I thought we’d hurry back to Moore’s place and spend the rest of the afternoon in bed. Unfortunately, Peyton caught us on the way out and insisted we do a late lunch with them. By the time we were done, it was time for us to get back to the house and get ready for the night.
It’s been hours since we had sex, and I need more of her. The kisses I’ve stolen between then and now aren’t enough. Which leads me to question if I’ll ever get enough of her? Probably not, but I’ll have to try. Especially with the knowledge that Peyton’s wedding is in two days, and after that…well, I don’t want to think about what happens after.
“Preston,” Gram calls, she and Emma are a few steps ahead of me. They’re still arm in arm, both of them looking over their shoulders with confused looks.
“Coming,” I respond with a groan, already shrugging out of my suit jacket so I can put the damn T-shirt on.
I’m begrudgingly following them to the yacht and changing into the silly T-shirt when Emma leans in to talk next to Gram’s ear. She tries to lower her voice, but she fails at it.
“For the record, I agree with you. There aren’t enough penis-shaped things at this party for my liking.”
I try not to laugh at her comment.
Gram looks at Emma with a wide grin. “Oh, darling. I’m never letting you leave this family.”
“You know, I think I look hot in the T-shirt,” Emma comments, finishing off the last bite of her bananas Foster.
“I never said you didn’t,” I respond.
Luckily, Peyton held true to her word and only had me keep the shirt on for pictures. After that, most people changed back into their formal wear as the yacht set off for the dinner cruise. But not Emma—she’s worn it proudly the entire time. She’s the only one still wearing it besides Peyton and Jackson.Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.
“Yeah, but you keep glaring at the shirt like it offended you. Through every course of dinner, you were staring daggers at it.”
My eyes scan the boat, trying to figure out if anyone is looking our way. Some people have left the table altogether and are exploring the boat; some are deep in conversations I haven’t been paying attention to. But all that matters is no one is looking our way.
I lean in, kissing right underneath her ear. “Maybe I’m glaring because I don’t want to be here. I want to be back at the house with that goddamn shirt—and everything else you’re wearing—on the floor.”
Emma tilts her head, allowing me more access to her sunburnt skin. “This dress is silk, and I saved up for months to buy it. You will not be throwing it on the floor.”
My teeth graze her throat. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Or you’ll take care of the one I already bought.”
“I don’t know if I can think about taking care of anything but this right here.” I casually place my hand underneath the table and inch my way up her thigh. My fingers slide underneath her dress and brush over her pussy.
A strangled breath falls from her lips when my fingers don’t meet any fabric. I grunt, not expecting to find her bare under her dress. “Emma Turner, where are your panties?” I growl, running my fingers along her pussy.
“Did you just scold me using my full name?” Her blue eyes light with mischief underneath the moon. Fuck, I wish my grandmother wasn’t sitting three chairs down from me. I wish we were alone so I could push the dress up to her hips and devour her pussy again.
“I did. How am I supposed to go the rest of the night knowing you’re not wearing any panties underneath this dress?”
She tries to squeeze her thighs together to stop my finger from circling her clit, but it doesn’t work. If anything, it keeps my hand pinned between her legs. “I guess you’re going to have to figure it out. I couldn’t wear a dress like this and have panty lines. That’s a cardinal sin, Rhodes.”
Before I can respond, she slides her chair from the table, forcing my hand to drop away from her. I growl, already missing the feel of her, but all she does is smile at me. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me, and the wide grin on her face tells me she’s loving it.
“No, what’s a sin is what I plan to do to you later, rebel.”
She bites her lip eagerly. “Is that a promise?”
I cough, completely taken aback by her response. This woman. I’m so fucking gone for her that there’s no point in me even fighting against it… Fuck, I think I’m developing real, actual feelings for her.
“Now, I’ve never been on a yacht before, and I just have to explore. Walk with me?”
My chair scratches against the floor as I stand up abruptly. A few curious stares look our way, but for the most part, it doesn’t capture the attention of others. I close the distance to her, proudly taking her hand in mine.
“I’d love to show you somewhere more private.”
“Oh, don’t get any ideas,” she whispers, letting me lead her away from the crowd. “I’ve had enough public sex for the day. You’re going to have to wait until we’re back at the house.”