“No kidding.” Taylor grinned, hugging her stepsister around the waist. “So does this mean you’re moving to Atlanta? Or will Derek join you in D.C. after you’re married?”
“Nooo,” Lexi groaned. “Please don’t take away any more of my guys. I miss the hell out of Percy, Jagger and Gabe. And I still haven’t recovered from Liam deserting me for Africa.”
Everyone laughed sympathetically.
A Spelman graduate, Lexi’s friendship with the Morehouse Nine went back more than two decades. Girlfriends had come and gone over the years, but she’d remained the one constant in the fellas’ lives. They shared a special bond that had only grown stronger over time.
“I’m not taking Derek away,” Hayden assured Lexi. “We’ve been talking things over, and he knows I’m ready and willing to relocate to Atlanta. In fact, I’m close to inking a deal to get my own show on CNN.”
“Really?” the others exclaimed. “Congratulations, Hayden!”
“Thank you.” She grinned sheepishly. “I don’t admit this very often, but it definitely pays to be the daughter of a powerful political strategist who can pull strings. Having my own show on CNN will not only give me an even bigger platform than I already have, it’ll also allow me to move here to be with Derek.”
“That’s awesome, Hayden,” everyone said warmly. “We’re so happy for you.”
“Thanks, girls.” Hayden’s voice softened. “You’ve all been so supportive of my relationship with Derek. It means the world to me.”
Lexi grinned. “As long as you make Derek happy, that’s all that matters. So keep him happy, y’hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Hayden gave a mock salute and grinned, then turned excitedly to Samara. “Your motherhasto design my wedding gown. Can you ask her for me? Pretty please with lots of sugar on top?”
Samara laughed. “Of course I’ll ask her. I can’t make any promises, but I can definitely ask.”
“Oh, thank you!” Hayden hugged her tightly, making Samara laugh again.
They all stood around discussing wedding plans until the fellas returned with Derek, slapping him on the back and offering warm congratulations to Hayden. The beaming couple stood in the center holding hands and receiving more well wishes from other guests until dinner was announced.
As the five couples headed toward their reserved table, Marcus caught Samara’s hand and drew it to his lips. He tenderly kissed her knuckles, smiling when her lashes fluttered and her lips parted.
“I love you,” he whispered.
She almost melted on the spot.
“I love you too, Marcus,” she whispered back. “Love you so much.”
After the lavishdinner had been consumed and the humorous speeches had been made—including a gut-busting monologue by Quentin—the dance floor was opened up. Marcus and Samara joined the flow of other couples headed to the floor as the jazz band began playing Luther Vandross’s “Every Year, Every Christmas.”
Marcus pulled Samara into his arms, holding her possessively close with one palm resting flat against her bare back. Shivering under his touch, she wound her arms around his neck and smiled up at him.
His answering smile was lazy and sensual. “Having a good time?”
“I am,” she murmured contentedly. “You?”
“Always.” His eyes gleamed. “I’ll have an even better time when I get you home and out of this sexy dress.”
She let out a throaty laugh. “You’re insatiable.”
“Since when is that a bad thing?”
“It’s not,” she purred, staring into his ebony eyes as they swayed to the music. “Believe me, Mr. Wolf, I have no complaints about your insatiable appetite. In fact, I’m glad the kids are spending the night at their grandparents’ house so I can have you all to myself when we get home.”
“Yeah?” Marcus trailed a lazy finger down the smooth curve of her back, causing her to shiver against him. “And what’re you going to do to me when we get home?”
“Mmm.” Samara licked her lips seductively, smiling at him. “Guess that’s for me to know and you to find out.”
Marcus grinned, slow and wicked. He was enjoying their sexually charged repartee as much as she was. “How soon?”
“How soon what?”
He leaned down until their foreheads were touching, his mouth just inches from hers. “How soon can I find out what you’re gonna do to me?”
Samara flicked her tongue across his lower lip, too quickly for him to catch it. Smiling into his glittering eyes, she whispered, “Just two more dances and then we can sneak out.”
His arm tightened around her waist. “Promise?”
“Yes, husband,” she purred coyly, biting at his lip. “You have my word.”
