by M. S. Parker
“Mom, please.” Edward lifted a hand toward her, but stayed at my side.
“No, no.” She laughed harshly. “I’m just a foolish old woman. Please don’t mind me.”
As she sailed off into the crowd, Cody and Flynn shared a look. Then Flynn slid his gaze our way. That strange little smile of his had faded and his eyes were curiously blank now. “We’ll handle her,” he said. “You two just go.”
“Thank you, Flynn.” Edward hesitated and then moved forward, grabbing both of his brothers in a tight hug. The sight of it made a knot form in my throat. I wished I hadn’t just snapped at Claire. Flynn and Cody had been just as scared of losing Edward as I’d been.
***
We’d been inside the car barely two minutes before Edward hauled me to his side and took my mouth with a fierceness he’d never displayed. He ran his hands over me, his touch desperate as his fingers dug into my flesh, heating me through my clothes. His tongue delved into my mouth, thoroughly exploring it as if he’d never done it before. Or as if he feared he’d never do it again.
I understood the urgency. My fingers were itching to touch him. To really touch him. Bare skin. To feel those strong muscles beneath my hands. Feel the solid reassurance that he was indeed alive.
We were twenty minutes from the house when he broke away from me and grabbed his phone, punching in a call. I doubted the person on the other line had time to say little more than a greeting before he was speaking, his voice rough. “I want everybody gone. Now.”
Then he had my mouth again, his hand tangling almost painfully in my hair.
“Who…” I forced him to stop so I could suck in some air. It didn’t exactly stop him, but he turned his attention from my mouth to my neck. The heat his mouth sent across my skin made it difficult to form my question. “Who was that?”
“Called Greta.” He sucked some of the soft skin into his mouth, worrying at it with his teeth.
The head of the household. Right. I knew her but at the moment, I was having a very tough time picturing her face.
“Want you.” He nipped at my earlobe. The words were nearly a growl. “Just you.”
I gasped as he shoved his hand under my skirt, ignoring the man still driving the car through the busy streets. His fingers easily found their way between my legs, lightly stroking the damp fabric he found there.
“Edward…” I blushed, shooting a meaningful look toward the front.
“He doesn’t see anything. I pay him enough that he doesn’t want to see anything.” His teeth raked down my neck while he started to grind the heel of his hand against my clit. The friction was too much, already driving me crazy. I’d been stretched so tight through this whole thing that I needed release almost as much as he did.
“Please…” I forgot about Paul. Forgot about the cars in the lanes next to us. Forgot about everything except he was here and safe. Forgot about all but the friction and pressure that quickly changed my panties from damp to soaked. “Please, please…”
I clutched his arm, begged him, but he didn’t let me come.
He drew it out in the torturous minutes until we were pulling up the drive. Then, as soon as the car stopped, he opened the door and hauled me out, not even waiting for Paul to get our doors like usual. He kicked the door shut and swung me up into his arms. Paul was striding up ahead of us, not once looking back. He had his back turned as he unlocked the door, and kept it turned as we went inside.
I had no idea who shut the door, but it was suddenly shut and then I was pressed up against it.
It took Edward less than five seconds to shove my skirt up over my hips and rip my panties away. It took another five for him to free himself from his trousers. Then he boosted me up and drove inside me even as my legs were wrapping around his waist.
I cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure shocking my system. He drove into me, his thrusts wild, desperate, and his rough passion fed mine. I could feel how wet I was, could feel myself clamping down around him, tightening with every stroke. Already, spasms were tightening my pussy and I knew I was close.
Edward kissed me, his tongue stroking deep into my mouth and I sucked on it, groaning. His fingers dug into my hips as he shifted, changing the angle and I moaned as he began to rub against my clit with each stroke. My fingers twisted in the hair at the nape of his neck.
One pass…a second, a third…
I started to come just as he shouted my name.
Chapter 3
After that horrifying day and the explosive events that followed it, I thought everything was going to be…different.
In a way, it was.
Edward actually asked if I’d send him a copy of everything I had going on with the wedding plans, so I did, but I didn’t think anything of it. I was surprised, then, when he came home the next day shortly before five, even more surprised when he kept his phone and laptop in his study. Surprised, but pleased. Then came dinner out at our favorite Indian restaurant and a quiet walk where he kept his hand around my waist and I rested my head on his shoulder. It was almost like it had been when we were dating.
That night, he held me gently and made love to me slowly, tenderly. There was no rush, nothing but tender caresses and soft kisses. He paid careful attention to the places where his mouth and fingers had marked me.
And yet...
I found myself missing the demanding passion from last night.
I knew what had brought it on and I felt guilty for even thinking that an upset Edward was a better lover, but the feeling lingered and when I climbed out of bed the next morning, it was with a dull headache and gritty eyes.
My fiancé was alive.
He was safe.
Nobody had been hurt.
We were happy.
Weren’t we?
I carried those thoughts with me into the bathroom as I showered and mentally talked myself into a better mood. I was just upset from how stressful the week had been, I told myself. I’d come home from a lovely visit with my family and already I was missing them. Part of me had hoped Edward would have connected with them better, but it had been Cody who had done all the connecting. They hadn’t disliked Edward, but the distance had been clear to me. Then I’d ended up waging a bitch-fest with Claire, and it had been interrupted with the news about the hostage situation. I’d been terrified.
It was only normal that my emotions were in chaos. I’d be crazy to expect otherwise.
I even had myself believing it by the time I walked into the bakery where Estelle had arranged for one of several cake tastings. I’d eaten lightly before Paul and I had left the house. I knew better than to load up on sugar without having real food in my belly and I thought maybe I was prepared for this. One look around the bakery, however, and I knew this wasn’t going to be the place.
Estelle saw the expression on my face as she came to greet me, a woman dressed in severe black marching at her side. Over at the long glass counter, Claire was already exclaiming over something sparkling and pink. Pink. And sparkling? What the hell? Cake wasn’t supposed to fucking sparkle.
“Ah…this is the cake tasting, right?” I asked, pasting a smile on my face.
“Qui,” the black-clad woman said. Her angular jaw tightened as she raked a look over me and my cute, but definitely not chic, dress. Her disapproving sniff would have done Claire proud. “Welcome to Bonbon.”
Her welcome sounded more like get the hell out.
With my brightest smile, I clapped my hands. “Oh, I love bonbons! Do you have any here?”
Her mouth tightened.
From the side, Claire snapped, “Gabriella, please do not waste Madame Durant’s time. She was gracious enough to handle this tasting herself so please show her the proper appreciation.”
“Sure.” Ambling past her, I went to look at the display of delicate little confections. They were exquisite, that was certain, but this place didn’t smell like a bakery. I knew good food. If I was walking by a restaurant, I could tell just by the scents coming from
within if they made their own bread. Bakeries were supposed to smell like bread and cookies and cake. Sugar. Chocolate. Cinnamon.
Nothing I was smelling in here was exactly making my mouth water. In fact, I could barely smell anything.
It was more like a display than anything else.
“So.” I spun back around and faced them, head cocked. “Shall we get to it?”
The fondant icing was like glue. The cakes she’d shown us were works of art, but the icing was nasty. The cake itself was passable, but it wasn’t fresh. It had probably been prepared offsite and brought in, decorated and then displayed.
Swallowing the sticky clump, I fought not to look at Claire as she debated between the two pictures she’d been shown. She’d tried a dab of the chocolate, a bit of hazelnut and something else Madame had suggested and she’d smiled, apparently pleased.
Did either of them have taste buds?
“Could you do something like this?” Claire asked, displaying something to Madame.
“No,” I said, the word popping out. I still had cake in my mouth, but I didn’t care. I wanted to cut this off before Claire really started to run with it.
Madame inclined her head regally. “I assure you. I most certainly can—”
“I’m sure you can decorate anything,” I said quickly. “Quite beautifully too.” Dusting my fingers off, I stood and looked at Estelle. “When are we scheduled for the next stop?”
Claire gaped at me.
“We have an hour,” Estelle said quietly. She’d only tried a bite of one of the pieces and had set her plate down.
“We’re not finished here, Gabriella.” Claire’s voice was pure steel.
“Hello!”
The sound of Edward’s voice was the only thing that kept the fury from exploding out of me. I wasn’t sure what I would’ve said if he hadn’t walked in at that moment. I felt numb as he came to stand next to me, brushing a kiss against my forehead as he leaned in. “I’m sorry I’m late. The meeting ran longer than I expected.”
“Late…” I tipped my head up to look at him, puzzled. “I didn’t think you’d be coming.”
He brushed a thumb across my lip, his voice low. “I haven’t helped as much as I should. I wanted to rectify that.”
Then he turned his attention to his mother. “Hello, Mom.”
“Edward.” She smiled.
I had to admire her acting abilities. The ice she’d displayed toward me was gone as if it had never existed. She made introductions and Madame Durant offered Edward a plate with a sample.
Oh, goodie. It was the hazelnut. The worst of the bunch.
He popped it in his mouth and I watched as he started to chew and then stop. He paused as if thinking his taste buds were telling him wrong and then he continued, gamely swallowing.
“What do you think?” I asked him cheerfully.
“Ah…” With deliberate care, he placed the plate on a nearby table and used the designer napkin to wipe his lips. “What did you think?”
“I hate it.” I shrugged. My mother would have been appalled to even consider it food. But then again, Mama wouldn’t have been putting me through this ordeal like Claire was. We would’ve been going with a small, family-owned bakery. One who spent as much time on making things taste good as look good. “I’m ready to try the next place.”
“Gabriella,” Claire said, her voice low and furious. She came over to us and actually reached out to grab my arm.
I stepped back. “Don’t.” The word was flat.
“Mother,” Edward said soothingly. “Please.”
She opened and closed her mouth, no words coming out.
He looked from her to Madame Durant, an apologetic smile on his lips. “We’ve had a trying few days, Madame. My fiancée is still stressed over the incident at Hugo Towers—I was one of…well.”
He managed a deprecating smile.
Madame still looked livid, but I saw the moment she decided to save face. He was, after all, a Bouvier.
“Oh, my dear.” She gave me a look of sympathy. It wasn’t real, but she’d play her part and pretend to understand.
Managing not to roll my eyes, I let Edward wrap his arm around my shoulders and pull me against him. I could play nice. Sometimes.
A few minutes later, we were out on the sidewalk and I looked up at him. I needed to clarify something, but the others didn’t need to hear it. Only Edward did. “I want you to understand something. I am stressed, but that cake was awful.”
“It was,” Edward agreed with a half grin.
Claire wheeled on both of us, but it was me who received the brunt of her rant. “You are the rudest woman.”
“I am not ordering a cake that nobody wants to eat.” I was polite, but firm.
“Nobody eats at a wedding. They’re there to see the bride and groom!” She threw up her hands as if this bit of information was completely obvious.
I gaped at her and then looked at Estelle. “Is this a New York thing or just something that happens here in the north? Because I’ve been to weddings, and I have definitely eaten at them. I’ll damn well eat at mine, so I’ll want good that I can enjoy.”
“That’s it.” Edward stepped between us, looking from me to his mother. He took a deep, slow breath, held it a moment and then blew it out. Finally, he focused on Claire. “Mother, I understand you want to help—”
“Thank you,” she interrupted. “Now will you please talk some sense—?”
“Mom.” As he stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, she lapsed into silence, waiting to get her own way as always. “Mom, please. This is our wedding. The situation at the bank made me take a good, hard look at things. I’ve left most of this in Gabriella’s—and your—hands and I shouldn’t have. I appreciate how much you’ve been helping her, but it should have been me working with her, and from now on, it will be. Why don’t you have Paul take you home or to the club? We can take it from here.”
***
We were mostly quiet on the drive to the next bakery, an older place in Brooklyn. Estelle was busy with her smartphone, though I wasn’t entirely sure she was actually doing anything. I had a feeling she didn’t want to look like she had taken anyone’s side and I didn’t blame her. Crossing either Edward or Claire could make her business very difficult.
Finally, I couldn’t take the silence anymore. Looking over at Edward, I touched his hand. “Your mother has been driving me crazy, Edward, but I probably didn’t do anything to help.”
He studied me thoughtfully.
I continued my confession, “After we got back from Tennessee, she started saying thoughtless things about my family, so I started being snide.” I shrugged and turned towards the window. “I wasn’t trying to hurt her intentionally, but the one thing I can’t ignore is people being rude about my family. She doesn’t even know them.”
Edward sighed and patted the seat next to him. I slid as close as the seat belt would allow and rested my head against his shoulder as the hired town car wove in and out of traffic. “I can understand that, Gabriella. I feel the same way. I’d be angry because you have been rather rude, but I know how my mother is, and I should have considered that before I left her to help you with the wedding plans.”
He kissed the top of my head.
“So we’re good?”
“Yes.” He paused and then said, “That cake was awful.”
I smothered a laugh against his arm. “You only had the one bite. I had to try three.”
“Imagine going there every other week because some bride insists that having a cake from some ritzy French bakery is more important than having one she’d enjoy.”
Both of us looked over at Estelle who was nose deep in whatever she was dealing with.
She looked up and, for one brief moment, she smiled at us.
Then she was back to work.
Edward and I laughed.
***
The third time was the charm.
It came from a little hole in the
wall somewhere near SoHo. It wasn’t much to look at, but the moment we went inside, I knew we’d found the place. The scents made my mouth water pretty much immediately and the cake on display in the window was every bit as beautiful as the ones we’d seen at Bonbon.
The place was simply called Honey’s and when we walked in, a tall, statuesque black woman came in from the back, smiling at us. “Gabriella?” she said. Her accent was pure, southern gold and I immediately felt at home.
“That’d be me.”
Her eyes brightened. “Well, I’ll be. Where you from, honey?”
I hadn’t realized I’d let my accent slip back in until she asked, but I didn’t bother hiding it again as I answered her question, “Tennessee. You sound like Georgia or Alabama.”
“Georgia. Spent the first thirty years of my life down near Gulf Shores.” She slid her amber eyes over toward Edward. Moving out from behind the counter, she said, “Hello. You must be Edward. I’m Honey.”
He nodded and shook her hand, looking around the small bakery. It was simple, but beautifully decorated, the design minimalist, keeping the focus on the cakes.
Within a few minutes, she had us seated, small plates in front of us and a pitcher of ice water next to small, plain cups.
She offered the standards, chocolate and yellow. Each one was better than the last. Then she brought out hazelnut and Edward and I both laughed. It made up for the travesty that had been offered earlier. Even Estelle cracked a smile at that one.
Then Honey really brought the game. Peach. Cinnamon apple. Peanut butter. Chocolate peanut butter. Raspberry lemon—
“I’m gonna die.” I moaned my way through the sweet-tart explosion on my tongue and looked up at her. “How out of place is raspberry lemon at a fall wedding?”
Her laugh was rich and full, filling the bakery. “Sweetheart, this is your wedding. You don’t worry about place. You worry about what you like.”
I felt tears pricking at my eyes. It was the first time someone had truly said that to me with sincerity. I pushed that aside.
Sliding Edward a look, I saw that he was still savoring the chocolate peanut butter, his eyes mostly closed. He caught me watching him and he shrugged. “She’s right. It’s our wedding. We’ll need several cakes.” He paused and studied Honey. “We’re seating about four hundred. You can handle that?”
