Penelope's POV
My phone buzzes with a text from Nick:
NICK: Don't be late. Mom will lose it if you don't show.
I stare at the message, a dull ache already forming behind my eyes. Family brunch. The one day a month where pretending is mandatory, where smiles are forced and secrets are shoved under the perfect table linens.
Today, it's going to be even worse.
Because Andrew will be there.
And the memory of what we did twice now is still raw against my skin.
I shouldn't feel this flushed just thinking about him. I shouldn't crave the sound of his voice, the way he says my name like a promise and a threat.
But I do.
God help me, I do.
The restaurant is one of those upscale, outdoor garden spots. Sunlight filters through hanging vines. Waiters moving around with mimosas and tiny plates of food that cost way too much for what they actually serve.
I arrive five minutes late. Everyone's already there—Nick, my mom and stepdad, our aunt and uncle, and of course…
Andrew.
He's sitting across the table, perfectly at ease in a button-down shirt rolled at the sleeves. His eyes find me instantly. No greeting. Just a slow, deliberate drag of his gaze from my mouth down to my legs.
My skin heats.
I sit between Mom and Nick, trying not to look at Andrew. Trying not to think about what he whispered in my ear the night before. What he did to me in the kitchen.
I squeeze my thighs together, my pulse fluttering.
"Penny, sweetheart," my mom says, pulling me back. "You look tired. You okay?"
"I'm fine," I say too fast. "Just didn't sleep much."
Nick's eyes narrow slightly.
"Yeah, you disappeared early last night," he says. "And Andrew was gone when I came back. Weird timing."
My heart stumbles. I reach for my mimosa and drink.
"Probably just missed each other," Andrew says smoothly, eyes still locked on me. "I had something to take care of."
"Uh huh," Nick mutters.
My mom, thank God, doesn't notice the tension as she starts talking about the wedding plans for our cousin next month, flipping through pictures on her phone.
Andrew leans back, one arm draped casually behind his chair, his fingers brushing the back of mine under the table. It's subtle. Dangerous.
My breath catches.
I glance at him sharply, but he just raises a brow, daring me.
Nick stands up. "I'm going to the restroom. Don't eat all the bacon."
The second he walks off, Andrew moves fast.
He leans across the table, voice low and deliberate. "You wore that dress on purpose, didn't you?"
My lips part. "What?"
"Short. Tight. And barely hiding how much you want me."
"Andrew—"
"Tell me you haven't thought about me since this morning."
I look around. Everyone else is chatting, drinking, laughing. No one hears what he's saying. No one sees his fingers now moving up and drawing circles on my bare thigh, hidden under the tablecloth.
"Stop," I whisper, even as my thighs part slightly.
"Tell me to stop."
I don't.
His thumb strokes a slow circle, and I bite my lip to keep from moaning.
Nick returns. Andrew pulls back like nothing happened.
But my body is on fire.
After brunch, we move to a nearby park where the family has set up for a little picnic and photos. It's tradition. And it's exhausting.
Andrew corners me behind a row of trees near the parking lot. It's shaded, quiet, and no one in sight.
"You're playing a dangerous game," I hiss.
"You love it."
He presses me against a tree, his hands at my waist holding me firmly. I should push him away. But I don't. I lean in instead.
"You think I can just smile through brunch while you're touching me under the table?" I snap.
"You did smile. You looked beautiful doing it."
He leans towards me, his lips briefly brush mine. And I melt.
"Andrew—"
"You know what I wanted to do during that whole meal?" he murmurs. "I wanted to drag you under the table. Make you cry out my name in front of everyone. Make you mine again."
I tremble.
"You're insane."
"Only for you."
His lips captures mine in a kiss that devours me, and I kiss him back with the same intensity like I'm starving. My fingers grips his hair as he place his on my back, my body arching.
Then a twig snaps nearby.
We quickly break apart, panting hard.
We spot Nick rounding the corner.
Andrew turns casually, like he'd just stepped out to take a call.
Nick eyes me. Then Andrew. Then me again.
"You guys good?"
"Yeah," I say too brightly. "Just getting some air."
"Right," Nick says, voice tight.
He doesn't say anything else, but the suspicion in his eyes is a warning shot.
We're not being careful enough.
Back at the picnic, Andrew keeps his distance. I keep my eyes anywhere but him. Still, every time he moves, I feel it. The pull. It's like every part of my body is aware of his presence.
When the sun starts to set, people pack up. Mom insists on a group photo. Everyone lines up, laughing, joking.
Andrew stands close behind me. Too close.
As the photo's taken, I feel his fingers graze my back, sending shivers through my body. Just once. Light. Possessive.
My skin erupts in goosebumps.
Later, as we say our goodbyes, Andrew catches my hand behind the car.
"Tonight. My place."
"Nick's already suspicious."
"So?"
"So we need to stop."
He steps closer and tilts my chin.
"Then stop."
I can't. I won't.
I nod. "Text me."
As I watch him walk away, I know I'm in deeper trouble than I ever meant to be. And I don't want a way out.
Not anymore.