Wrong Wedding

by Noelle Adams

  “Well, I would. I did.” She leaned her head against his chest as he pulled her closer. “You should have let me know where you were.”

  “Okay.” He sounded too thick. Almost gravelly. “From now on, I will.”

  They stayed like that for a long time—holding hands on his lap as she leaned against him, his arm wrapped tightly around her.

  Her heart had burst into those same flutters she’d been feeling for a while now, but they were so strong and so chaotic she could barely contain them in her chest.

  She’d done this all her life—kept her feelings to herself, safely contained by her reserve, until they got strong like this. Then they burst out whether she wanted them or not, often in the least strategic ways.

  They burst out now. “This is... this is... more than sex. Between us, I mean.” She gulped and pulled away so she could see his face. “Isn’t it?”

  He finally let go of her hand so he could hold the side of her neck. “It is on my side. I didn’t know about you.”

  She made a sound halfway between a sob and a giggle. “It is on my side too.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  His expression softened. Warmed with the most delicious sort of heat. So much more than lust. “Thank God, baby. I’ve been dying over this for weeks now, not wanting to pressure you or move too soon.”

  “It’s not too soon.” She couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

  He was starting to smile too. He leaned over to kiss her, still holding on to her neck, but both of them couldn’t stop smiling enough to concentrate, so it was kind of clumsy. They eventually settled with hugging, both of them shaking with soft laughter instead.

  It was only then that Summer caught a glimpse of the clock. “Shit. I’ve got to dry my hair this morning, and it takes forever.”

  Lincoln was grinning fully. Nothing held back. She’d never seen him look like that before. He gave her a quick kiss as he stood up. “You go do that. I’m hot and sweating and still damp from floodwater. I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Okay. Good plan.” She’d much rather stay where they were and keep hugging, but work wasn’t going to wait just because she was suddenly blissfully happy.

  Lincoln walked to the door that connected their rooms, but he turned back before he went through. “Don’t go to work while I’m in there.”

  She laughed. “Don’t worry. Unless you’re planning to take a twenty-five-minute shower, I’ll still be working on my hair.”

  Summer’s daily routine was fairly low maintenance, but on days when she washed her hair, she always took the time to blow it out straight since she liked it smooth and shiny. Since her hair was thick and long, it took a long time to do.

  She set to work on the job with her brush and hair dryer. And for once, the tedious task was punctuated with smiles and giggles. Twice she stopped to hug herself.

  She really couldn’t help it.

  When Lincoln reappeared, he was dressed for bed in his pajama pants. She was working on the last section of her hair, but she gave his bare chest and low-slung pants an exaggerated leer that made him chuckle.

  After she’d turned off the dryer and brushed out her hair, he came over and pulled her into a kiss. Maybe it was supposed to be a quick kiss to say goodbye for the morning, but it got deep very quickly. His body felt so good—so hard and warm and masculine—and what she could sense of his heart—just as warm, just as big, which he tried so much to hide from the world—felt even better.

  She was all over him, rubbing up against him and dragging her fingers down his bare back. When she discovered he was already hard, she ground herself against the bulge, making both of them groan.

  “Do you have time for something before work?” he mumbled, kissing a line down her neck before he returned to her mouth.

  She managed to focus on the bedside clock enough to make out the time. “Maybe. If we’re really quick.”

  “I can be quick.”

  “That hasn’t been my experience with you in bed.”

  “Well, I haven’t faced a time challenge in the past, but I guarantee you I’ll be up for it.”

  “All right. No dillydallying.”

  “Got it. No dillydallying. We won’t even use the bed.”

  “How exactly are you planning to fuck me without the bed?”

  “Are you doubting my ingenuity? There are plenty of empty walls.” He backed her all the way to the wall that faced the hallway where there was nothing but a dresser and a small console table near the door.

  “You’re really thinking about wall sex? After fighting flood waters all night?”

  He laughed, his fond green eyes resting on her face like a caress. “That’s a good point.” He glanced around. “I could use a little help.” He moved them over a few feet to the console table and propped her up on it.

  She squealed. “I’m not sure this table is made to the hold the weight of a person.”

  He wiggled the table with her on top of it, making her squeal again. “It will do just fine. I have faith in it.”

  She was giggling helplessly when he kissed her again. When his hands got busy under the bathrobe she still wore, arousal started to grow inside her, mingling with her amusement and the giddy emotion that hadn’t yet dimmed.

  She was full of everything she felt—almost too full—as he kissed her hungrily and tweaked her breasts at the same time. When the pleasure became almost torturous, he moved his hands downward. His wandering fingers discovered that she was already wet and ready for him, but instead of getting going on the main event, he penetrated her with two fingers and started to pump them.

  She gasped and whimpered and clung to him desperately, feeling off-balance on the narrow table. She came absurdly fast, mewing out the pleasure against his mouth, but then she had the sense to remind him, “No more foreplay. I know you’re ambitious, but we’re in a time crunch here.”

  He grumbled unconvincingly as he pulled out his erection and positioned himself at her entrance. Her hair and her open robe were falling over both of them as he pushed in.

  Then he found her lips again as he started to rock his hips. He was holding her up, filling her up. For the moment he was everything.

  And it was exactly what she wanted him to be.

  “Oh fuck, baby, you’re everything,” he rasped against her mouth. “Everything. To me. Everything.”

  It was like he read her mind.

  She arched and gasped and couldn’t hold back her mews of pleasure—emotional as much as physical. “Please. Please don’t stop.”

  “I won’t. Ever.” His speed was accelerating. He didn’t have nearly as much control this morning as he normally did, and it was thrilling to realize it might be because he was just as overwhelmed as emotion as she was. “Ever, baby. Ever.”

  She dug her fingernails into the back of his shoulders as an orgasm started to crest. “Harder, Lincoln. Please. Harder.”

  He responded to her pleas, thrusting into her with so much vigor that they knocked the table against the wall in a loud staccato. It only made it better, wilder, rawer. The pleasure in her body and heart threatened to split her apart as she cried out with her release.

  He choked back a loud exclamation as her body clamped down around him. He jerked and pushed and grunted through his final thrusts before he let go too. Just as fully as she had.

  She clung to him desperately, both her arms and legs wrapped around him, when his motion finally grew still. Her body was relaxing with a delicious satisfaction, and she could feel the same in his.

  He was murmuring something against her neck. She couldn’t quite make out what it was.

  But she wanted to hear it. She strained to hear it.

  Instead, she heard a knock on her bedroom door.

  Both of them froze for several seconds, like they were children caught in something naughty. Then the knock came again. “Summer?” It was Carter from out in the hall. “Is everything all right?”

  “Shit!”
That was Lincoln, soft and strained. He took a step back, sliding his softening penis out of her and quickly pulling up his pants. He helped her set her feet on the floor as she hurriedly closed her robe.

  They stared each other for a moment, paralyzed with surprise and indecision.

  When Carter knocked and called out again, Summer finally gave a helpless shrug. They had to open the door soon, or Carter would be worried and might just walk in.

  Lincoln went to open the door. Summer followed a little behind him.

  “Is everything all—?” Carter’s worried question broke off as he got a look at them.

  The scene was unmistakable. What they’d just been doing was just as clear as if Carter had caught them naked and going at it. Lincoln’s pants were barely pulled up and his hair was sticking up almost on end. Summer was flushed and rumpled and trying to close her robe more securely.

  After his half-finished question, Carter stared silently from one to the other. There was more than surprise on his face. There was something that looked like shocked pain—as if he’d just suffered a physical blow.

  Summer felt sick. She began, “Carter...” But she had absolutely no idea what to say.

  Carter’s eyes finally landed on Summer, and he asked hoarsely, “What are you doing?”

  She opened her mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “Now just a minute,” Lincoln began, sounding subdued but also faintly annoyed.

  Carter didn’t give them a minute. He turned around and walked away.

  “Carter, wait!” she called, starting after him. Then she stopped abruptly when she remembered the time. “Damn it. I have an eight-o’clock meeting. I can’t be late.” She was close to tears of worry and frustration. “This is terrible. Poor Carter. He shouldn’t have found out that way.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” Lincoln said, hiking up his pants and running a hand through his wildly disordered hair. “You go ahead and get dressed. I’ll talk to him.”

  “But—”

  “He’s my brother, baby. It needs to be me.”

  She nodded, hugging her arms to her chest.

  He stepped over to give her a soft kiss, running a hand lightly down the length of her hair. “I’ll take care of it,” he murmured. “It’s going to be okay.”

  She didn’t believe it, but it made her feel better anyway.

  Nine

  SUMMER MANAGED TO GET dressed and get into work in time for her meeting, but she was flustered and distracted, and it wasn’t her finest hour.

  As soon as her meeting was over, she texted Lincoln. How’s Carter?

  He didn’t answer right away, and she had to get through a twenty-five-minute phone call before she was able to check her phone again.

  He still hadn’t answered.

  Everything all right?

  When five minutes had passed and there was still no reply, she called him instead. He hadn’t yet gotten any sleep after a long night of work, but he wouldn’t have gone to bed without letting her know what was happening. The phone rang several times before the voice mail picked up.

  Lincoln never checked his voice mail. She’d learned that weeks ago. Anyone who foolishly tried to contact him through a voice mail message was doomed to be ignored. She hung up and breathed deeply, controlling her rising panic.

  This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Lincoln had been in his pajamas. He hadn’t had his phone with him when he went to talk to Carter. Maybe they were having a long talk. Maybe they were working things out.

  It hadn’t really been that long. She wasn’t going to assume the worst. She wasn’t going to fall apart.

  She made herself focus on work until lunchtime, when she still hadn’t heard anything.

  She texted one more time. Any updates???

  This time a response came in. Explain when you get home.

  She stared at the words. They were strange. Too abrupt. Too vague. They didn’t sound like a Lincoln who’d worked things out with his brother.

  She glanced at the clock. The Wilson mansion was only eight minutes away from the Hope House offices where she worked. She had an hour for lunch, and no one would complain if she took a few extra minutes. She wasn’t going to wait until five to find out what was going on with Lincoln and Carter.

  She grabbed her purse and coat and headed for her car.

  When she got to the house, she saw that Carter’s car was gone from the garage, but Lincoln’s was still parked in its regular spot. At least Lincoln was home.

  Maybe he was sleeping. If he was, she would have to wake him up.

  She ran up the west wing stairs and then into her own bedroom. When she saw the connecting door was open like normal, she pushed into Lincoln’s room.

  He was in bed, but he wasn’t asleep. He sat up abruptly as she ran in. “What are you doing?” he said, rather grumpily.

  “What do you think I’m doing? Tell me what the hell is going on. How’s Carter?”

  His face contorted briefly, as if he were processing heavy emotion, and she knew immediately that this was a bad sign. “He’s Carter. Noble, frustrating, and completely clueless.”

  “What does that mean?” She toed off her shoes and climbed onto the bed beside him, sitting on her knees. “Lincoln, I’m going crazy here. What did Carter say?”

  “He said I’m a selfish asshole who’s been using you heartlessly, and I should know better.” He wasn’t really looking at her. He was staring down at the covers. “He said I was going to break your heart, and he’d never forgive me for it.”

  “What? Didn’t you tell him...? Didn’t you tell him how... how things are between us?” She reached out to grab his forearm, shocked when he jerked it out of her touch.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Lincoln muttered. Whatever emotion he’d been processing had evidently been sucked back into tight control. His words were low and uninflected.

  “What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Summer was close to tears. She suddenly knew—knew—what was about to happen, and she had no idea if she was capable of stopping it. “Lincoln, you... you care about me. And I feel the same way. I know it might be kind of hard for Carter to get used to it, but I’m sure—”

  “Listen to me, Summer.” Lincoln was meeting her eyes at last, his gaze harder than she’d ever seen it. And aching at the same time. “It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. It’s never going to work between us.”

  “W-what?” She raised her hand to cover her mouth, a painful shuddering starting in her heart and spreading everywhere.

  “It’s not going to work. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?” she choked. “You’re sorry!” She wanted to sob, but the shock was too new. The pain was numbing her, and the tears in her eyes didn’t fall. “Why are you doing this? We were... we were happy. You were happy. Just a few hours ago.”

  “I know I was happy.” Lincoln jerked his eyes away as if he couldn’t look at her face anymore. “But everything’s different now.”

  “What’s different?” Her voice was too loud, too desperate. Her vision was blurring. And Lincoln’s frozen body and blank face were the worst things she could imagine seeing. “Tell me what the fuck happened. Tell me right now. You can’t do this to me without giving me a good reason.”

  “I... can’t.” He wouldn’t look at her. Wouldn’t move.

  She slapped him. Not hard. Mostly just to get his attention. She’d never seen him like this before. She’d never seen anyone. “Talk to me!”

  “I am talking to you.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re not telling me anything. What did Carter say to make you do this to me?”

  “I can’t... I can’t tell you.”

  “You sure as hell better tell me.” She was so outraged and heartbroken she couldn’t stay sitting on the bed. She stood up and glared down at him. “I’m not going to let you get away with this, Lincoln Wilson. Maybe you’ve always run away whenever things get too hard, but you’re not going to run away from this. We have s
omething. It’s real. And I think it’s going to last. You don’t get to just throw it away like it’s nothing.”

  Lincoln’s tightly reined emotion was suddenly let loose. He hauled himself out of the bed and stood in front of her. “I know it’s not nothing. I know.”

  “Then why are you treating it as nothing? Why are you giving up just when it was getting good?” The reality caught up with her then, and she sobbed a few times into her hands.

  “Oh shit, baby. Please don’t—”

  “Don’t you dare call me that!” She spit the words out as she dropped her hands. “You don’t get to call me that if you’re going to treat me like this. I... I love you, Lincoln.”

  He froze for a moment, staring at her blindly.

  “I love you,” she repeated, more confident in the words as she spoke them. “And I’m pretty sure you love me too. So whatever is going on, we can get over it.”

  “We can’t.”

  “Yes, we can. You love me. Admit it!”

  He shook his head, his face contorting as if he was hurting just as much as she was. “I’m so sorry, bab—Summer. I’m so sorry. But I can’t admit it. I can’t say it. I can’t do anything. Not anymore.”

  She could tell he meant it. She could tell his decision was inviolable. “Why not? Tell me why! Why, Lincoln? Why?”

  Her repeated demands finally broke the last thread of his control. He burst out with the answer. “Because Carter wants you too!”

  That was the last thing she ever expected to hear. It took several seconds for the words to even register. Then she blinked several times, all her anger and urgency blown out in a rush. “Wh-what?”

  He cleared his throat and looked away. “Carter wants you too. So I can never have you.”

  “Wha— But— What the hell are you talking about? Carter is my friend. He’s never—”

  “Not until he realized he was losing you. Then he realized he feels more for you than he thought. That’s why he’s been such a wreck lately. That’s why he’s pulled away. He wants you, Summer. He loves you.”