“And all this.” His fingers squeeze my hip and his gaze roams my face, my hair, my dress. “It’s not for him?” I laugh in disbelief. “What? Jamie,” I murmur. “Of course it’s not for him.” His nostrils flare, and I have the urge to stroke my finger down his strong nose. “What the fuck am I supposed to think, Pippa?” His green eyes flash and he grips my hip harder. Oh. I like that feeling.
