Chapter 526: Thumb-Gasm

I walked toward the table, every eye fixed on me. Mom’s expression was warm yet curious—apparently, she’d only just heard about the restaurant tonight. Emma was grinning like she found the whole thing hilarious.

Sarah watched with her usual analytical gaze, noting Sabrina’s reactions and knowing exactly what I was doing to my mother-in-law.

Madison’s smile radiated pure pride, that smug that’s-my-man satisfaction, rooting for me even against her own mother. My Crazy Queen.

And Sabrina? Her wine glass was frozen halfway to her lips. Before I could reach the table, Antonio intercepted me, pulling me into a big, back-slapping hug that said he genuinely liked me. His hands gripped my shoulders, as if testing if I was real.

"Look at you!" he said, holding me at arm’s length, beaming. "Madison told me you were tall, but Christ, you’ve got five inches on me! And this suit—damn, you clean up well, son!"

"Thank you, sir," I said, keeping my voice respectful. Warm. The perfect potential son-in-law. "It’s good to finally meet you properly."

"Properly!" Antonio laughed—big and genuine. "After what you did for us? After you saved that BioLa deal? You could show up in a garbage bag and I’d still hug you!" He patted my shoulders again. "Do you know what you did? Twenty billion dollars, Peter.

Twenty billion.

That’s not just a deal. That’s generational wealth. That’s the difference between legacy and legend."

"I just provided information—"

"Bullshit!"

Antonio’s grin widened. "Madison told me everything. How you knew about the underground contamination. How you had run geological surveys overnight. How you figured out Darlus Constructions’ bid was half what it should’ve been because they didn’t know about the cleanup costs." He shook his head in admiration. "That’s not just smart, son. That’s

brilliant

. That’s the kind of strategic thinking that builds empires."

Thanks for not saying what I actually did before mom. She’d kill me!

I saw Mom’s eyebrows rise. She hadn’t heard the details either. Madison had apparently kept the full story for her father.

Antonio continued, steering me toward the table with an arm around my shoulders. "You didn’t ask for anything. Didn’t demand credit. Didn’t try to negotiate yourself into the deal. You just... helped. Because you care about my daughter."

We reached the table. Everyone was watching. This was the moment. The official introduction. The blending of families.

"Sabrina, my love," Antonio announced like he was presenting royalty, "this is

the

Peter Carter. Madison’s fiancé. The man who just saved Torres Developments from disaster and made sure our family—" he nodded to Mom "—will never want for anything."

Fiancé.

Mom stood. Came around the table. Her

assessing

eyes scanning me like she was checking for injuries. Then she smiled—that mom-smile that said she was proud but also confused and maybe a little overwhelmed.

"You bought a restaurant?" Her voice was quiet. Just for me. The question underneath:

What else haven’t you told me?

"Madison and I invested," I said, keeping it casual. "We can talk about it later."

She searched my face. Then nodded. Stepped back. Trusting me to explain when the time was right.

Emma bounced up. Hugged me quick. "This place is

insane

," she whispered. "The bathroom has a couch. A

couch

, Peter. Who puts a couch in a bathroom?"

"French people, apparently," I whispered back.

Sarah’s hug was more reserved. But her eyes were sharp. Questioning. She’d noticed something. Probably the way I was deliberately not looking at Sabrina Torres.

The twins have not been with me for the whole weekend, and they’d missed me so much.

Madison came next. Kissed my cheek. Whispered in my ear: "She

knows.

Mom knows. I can see it."

I squeezed her waist. Whispered back: "I know she knows."

Then Madison pulled back. Smiled. Took my hand and turned me toward her mother.

"Mom," Madison said, her voice carrying that edge of pride and challenge. "This is Peter Carter. My fiancé."

The word hung in the air. Official. Claiming. Final.

Sabrina stood slowly. Graceful. Controlled. Every movement deliberate like she was using the physical action to buy time for her mind to catch up with her body’s reaction.

But standing made it worse. I let my Pheromones intensify with proximity. I could see it affecting her—the way her breathing became labored, like the air had suddenly gotten thicker. The way her hand trembled as she set down her wine glass. The way she swayed slightly on her heels, like her legs weren’t quite steady.

Man, I was

gonna

enjoy teasing this beauty.

Up close she was even more devastating. The dress hugged curves that defied logic and biology. Her perfume—something expensive and floral with a base note of musk—wrapped around me like a physical presence.

But under that perfume, I could smell something else, primal. The subtle scent of arousal that her body couldn’t hide no matter how controlled her expression tried to be.

This close, I could see the slight tremor in her hands. The way her chest rose and fell just a little too quickly. The pulse jumping at the base of her throat—rapid, frantic. The way her thighs pressed together unconsciously, seeking relief from pressure building inside her.

She extended her hand. Professional. Appropriate. The greeting of a future mother-in-law meeting her daughter’s choice.

But her eyes... her eyes were screaming something else entirely. They were dark with desire she couldn’t name, couldn’t understand, couldn’t fight.

"Mrs. Torres," I said, taking her hand.

The moment our skin touched, her entire body shuddered. Not subtly. A full-body tremor that she couldn’t suppress. Her breath hitched. Her eyes went wide. A small sound escaped her throat—barely audible but I heard it. Something between a gasp and a whimper.

Every nerve ending suddenly hypersensitive. Every touch magnified. Every boundary dissolved.

My thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle on the back of her hand.

Sabrina’s knees buckled. Just slightly. Just enough that she had to catch herself. Her free hand shot out, gripping the edge of the table for support.

"I’m Peter Carter. Madison’s fiancé," I said formally, holding her captive in my grip and my gaze.

Her pupils were blown wide now. Her skin flushed from her chest up to her cheeks. A thin sheen of sweat appeared at her temples despite the restaurant’s perfect climate control.

She was forty-plus years old. Married. Mother of the woman I was engaged to. Every social rule, every moral boundary, every logical thought should’ve been screaming at her to pull away, to maintain distance, to protect herself.

"Peter," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. Strained. Broken. "It’s... it’s wonderful to finally meet you. Madison has told us so much about you."

Her hand was still in mine. She hadn’t pulled away. Couldn’t pull away. Her fingers trembled against my palm, and I could feel her pulse racing—rapid, erratic, desperate.

"The pleasure is entirely mine, Mrs. Torres," I said, my voice dropping lower. More intimate despite the public setting.

I let my gaze drift down slowly without anyone noticing. Over the plunging neckline. The way the dress clung to her body. The exposed thigh where the slit revealed toned leg. Taking my time. Making sure she felt every second of my attention.

Only

her.

Her breath stopped completely. Her body went rigid. Her hand in mine began to shake harder.

Then back up to her eyes. Holding her captive in that gaze.

"Madison speaks of you constantly. Though she failed to mention—" I paused, let my thumb brush across her knuckles again. Watched her whole body shiver. "—how breathtaking you are. I can see exactly where Madison gets her beauty. Her grace. Her... intensity."

The last word was deliberate. Loaded. Because Sabrina knew exactly how intense things could get.

A small, choked sound escaped her lips. Her thighs pressed together harder. Her chest heaved, breasts straining against the delicate straps of her dress. A visible flush spread down from her face to her chest, disappearing beneath the green fabric.

She was coming apart right there in front of everyone. The Taboo Aura stripping away every defense, every wall, every pretense of control.

"You’re... you’re too kind," she stammered, her voice shaking.

I should have released her hand. Should have stepped back. Maintained appropriate future-son-in-law distance.

Instead, I held on for three more seconds. Let my thumb brush across her knuckles one more time. A touch that was too intimate. Too knowing. Too familiar for someone I was supposedly meeting for the first time.

"I look forward to getting to know you better," I said quietly. "As

family,

now."

The word

family

should have been reassuring. Appropriate. Establishing proper boundaries.

But the way I said it—the way my thumb continued its slow caress, the way my eyes promised things that had nothing to do with family—made it sound like something else entirely.

Sabrina’s whole body trembled violently. Her eyes locked on mine with an expression that was equal parts terror and hunger. Her lips parted, a shaky breath escaping.

Her body was screaming yes while her mind tried desperately to scream no.

And the yes was winning.

"I..." she started. Then stopped. Her hand squeezed mine—whether trying to pull away or pull closer, I wasn’t sure she even knew. "I should... I need..."