“Nuh-uh,” I say. “Show me.”

“You said you liked it when I wear tighter stuff,” he begins.

“Better tailored. Yeah. Why?”

“Well.” He lets out an uncomfortable grunt. Glancing around, he quickly unbuttons his jacket and holds it away from his crotch. “Think we went with a look that’s a little too tailored.”

I pull back with a gasp, eyes going wide. I can see the outline of Grey’s dick through the fine fabric of his pants. The head, the ridge that separates it from the shaft. The shaft itself.

A pulse of heat moves between my legs.

“Too tailored to the wrong body part, anyway,” Ford says.

Luke happens to appear at that moment. He claps Grey on the shoulder.

“Way to steal the spotlight,” he says, grinning. “All anyone can talk about is what a handsome couple the bride and groom make and that guy wearing the pants that show his dick.”

“Oh my God,” I breathe, looking at Grey. “You’re Tuxedo Dick Pants.”

Ford lets out a bark of laughter. “TDP. Classic.”

I hold up my hand to Grey. “Way to go, baby. You’re already the toast of this party and it’s barely even started.”

Laughing, Grey gives me a high five, curling his fingers around mine.

“I was thinking about you when I had these pants made,” he says. “I wasn’t thinking about—”

“Showing your dick to Olivia’s grandma?” Ford says, raising his brows.

“No, you jerk off, I wasn’t thinking about that,” Grey shoots back. He turns to me. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I say, grinning. “I just can’t wait to see you dance in those TDPs.”

“But Grey doesn’t dance,” Ford says, teasing.

I look at Greyson. “We’ll see about that.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Greyson

Despite my unfortunate pants situation, I manage to enjoy myself through cocktail hour and dinner, too.

Julia doesn’t exactly make things easy in her tight little black dress and sexy high heels. Her bump really popped over the past week, and she’s enjoying showing it off.

Another thing that dress shows off? Her tits. And ass. And legs.

Everything, basically. When catching sight of just one of those things is enough to make me hard.

The combination is gloriously infuriating.

Julia in a nutshell.

Goddamn I love this girl.

I keep things under control by focusing on the food. The conversation Julia and I have with our table mates. The fact that people love the barn and seem to appreciate the work and money we put into the property.

But when the band starts to play—first song is Al Green’s “All Night Long,” fuck me for life—I know I’m in trouble.

Julia is on her feet before the first verse is over.

“Wanna dance?” she asks, running a hand through her hair. The movement is slow and sensuous, and it makes me think about how slow she moves when she’s on top. Riding my cock like she’s got all day. Hands on my chest, head thrown back, tits bouncing. Back arched.