by A. J. Pine
Alex stroked Miles from root to tip, his thumb swirling the wetness, and Miles knew the answer to the unanswered question, to the one thing that would send him over the edge with no chance of making it back.
“Yes,” Miles said. “I want you inside me.”
Alex kissed him, hard at first and then whisper-soft, both hungry and gentle. Ever since Alex asked for an all-access weekend pass, something shifted. Miles knew that letting him in would be too much.
But Alex knew. And still wanted him. Miles had almost let him in already.
Alex led him from the bed to his shower, where they washed away any barriers left between them, a wordless cleansing of all the thoughts that had kept Miles from considering a moment like this.
Back in Alex’s bed, there was no more need for consideration. He rolled Miles to his side and pulled him to his chest. His hand traveled the length of Miles’s torso, fingers swirling in the fine hair that dusted his chest, following the narrow trail to where he was long and rigid and pulsing with need.
Alex prepared him gently, his fingers slick with lubrication, driving him mad yet only making him want more. Again the tease and then the departure, but Miles laughed when he heard Alex rummaging through the nightstand drawer. Seconds later he felt Alex’s length against his back and then heard the sound of foil tearing.
Alex kissed his neck, warm breath tickling Miles’s skin.
“All dressed up and someplace incredible to go,” Alex said, and Miles chuckled. Then Alex wrapped his hand around him again, nudging him open from behind and entering with ease.
“Jesus,” Miles gasped, reaching back to tangle his fingers in Alex’s hair.
“What happened to swearing on the Olympians?” Alex asked, and Miles’s chest shook with silent laughter and a bliss like he’d never known.
“Fucking hell,” Miles groaned as Alex pulled out halfway and sunk in to the hilt, all the while stroking Miles from bottom to top. “Whatever or whoever you want me to swear to, consider myself sworn.”
Alex rocked against him, his hand never missing a beat, though Miles was sure his heart skipped at least one or two. He ran a hand down Alex’s leg, feeling the long scar that spanned the length from his knee to his shin. Alex had shared with him an event that altered his life, and Miles wondered if today could be one that altered his. He craned his neck to find those lips he craved, whispering to Alex as he did.
“You’re in,” Miles said just as Alex thrust deep, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as Alex hit that perfect spot inside. He wondered if Alex understood, if he’d even heard him at all, or if he was now too caught up in coming so close to the edge.
Alex slowed the rhythm of his body yet pumped Miles’s length harder. Close. He was so close, every part of him a pinprick away from combustion.
“You’re in as well,” Alex said, and those were the last words Miles heard before total oblivion.
Alex had more than understood. He’d felt it, too.
Miles lay watching the beautiful man next to him doze for “just five more minutes” before the day truly began.
This couldn’t be real because no one fell this fast. Miles would roll his eyes at anyone who said otherwise. Yet here he was, wondering how getting his heart broken all those years ago could even compare to saying good-bye to Alex.
And then there was that familiar, niggling feeling. The one he knew would rear its ugly head eventually. He may have let Alex past his barriers, but tomorrow he could construct them again.
Relief. That’s what the lightness he felt was. As much as he let his guard down, Miles had an impenetrable safe zone. It was called home.
Greece wasn’t real. It was fantasy, and he could live in this fantasy world for a few more hours. But no matter what Alex told him this morning, tonight, tomorrow—it would all change if they tried to do this for the long haul, and Miles had the scars to prove it.
“I’ve got to get dressed for the ceremony,” he said, kissing Alex softly on the mouth.
Alex let out a groggy, “Mmmmmm,” against Miles’s lips as he kissed him back. “As soon as the serving begins tonight,” Alex told him, “I’m officially off duty, and don’t think I won’t steal you away as soon as humanly possible.”
“I’m planning on it,” Miles said. Because he was. And because he knew good-bye would be the hardest to bear, he also planned on being gone before Alex woke in the morning.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Elaina
Elaina finally kicked everyone out of her room. Her makeup was done, and the dress was on. Holy shit, the dress. Elaina wasn’t one for false modesty, and since no one else was in the room, she admitted to herself that she did look spectacular. The dress had been her mother’s—and her grandmother’s before that. Now she stood in awe of the person in the mirror, wrapped in history in the hopes of embarking on her future.
She ran her fingertips over the scalloped neckline, the ivory lace bodice like a glove against her skin. The A-line skirt and train were classic elegance, easy enough to sit in and sure not to trip her as she glided down the aisle. The only question was whether or not there’d be a groom at the other end to greet her.
Someone knocked softly on the door, and Elaina groaned. No more cousins, grandmothers, mothers, friends. Enough. She just wanted a few moments of peace before she faced what would either be her best day—or her worst.
She took a step toward the door and then with a haughty upturn of her chin spun the other way. She had always been good at avoiding anyone or anything she didn’t want to deal with. The thought made her chuckle. Duncan had been one such person a few years ago. He’d made his interest in her clear from the start, and despite his dark, sexy hair and eyes—not to mention those lean, muscular legs in a kilt—she tried not to give in to her attraction.
Elaina could excuse her silly judgment then. She was, after all, only a student who thought she had everything figured out, especially the kind of man she wanted in her life. Certainly no boy who, on occasion, drank his weight in whisky and woke up the next morning on a roundabout would fit her narrow definition. Not a boy who favored hours in front of a PlayStation over a good book. Not that Elaina was a prolific reader, but a man who read was, well, a man, right?
She slumped into the chair in front of her dressing table. Duncan may enjoy his liquor as well as his video games, but he also graduated with some of the highest marks at Aberdeen. Her father trusted him enough to offer him a job and to give his blessing on their marriage after they’d been dating for less than a year.
“I am a terrible human,” she mumbled to herself.
And then the knocking came again.
Suffused with new anger, she stormed to the door.
“Ten minutes!” she yelled, ready to unleash her fury on who was surely Thea, wanting to do a last-minute touch-up before they left for the church. “I want ten freaking minutes to myself before…” She threw the door open, yelped, and then promptly jumped behind it, shielding herself from view.
“Hiya to you as well,” Duncan said, and she could hear that devil of a smile. “You sure are a sight, Elaina. Though I only saw ya for a wee second.”
Elaina burrowed farther into the corner between the wall and the open door.
“What the hell are you doing here?” But she couldn’t help it. She was smiling. For the first time since Duncan had arrived in Greece, Elaina Tripoli felt something she hadn’t thought was there. Hope.
“May I come in? We’ve already had one conversation like this, and I think I’d like to have this one face-to-face,” he said.
“But you are not supposed to see the bride. It is very bad luck.”
The door moved slowly toward her, and she knew Duncan was waiting for her to stop it, to refuse his entrance, but how could she refuse the man she thought she might not see again after last night?
“Elaina,” he said, stepping into the room and closing the door so she stood in plain sight, bad luck be damned.
He opened his mou
th to continue speaking, but nothing came out. His right palm flew to his heart, and he pressed his lips together, holding back…something. So Elaina waited until he was ready.
Duncan cleared his throat, and she tried not to notice that his eyes shone a bit more than they had last night, brimming with emotion she’d not seen from him before. Though his eye was still bruised, it was no longer swollen, and she let him drink her in, holding her breath as he did. He stepped toward her, where she was still pinned to the corner, more by sheer paralysis than anything else.
“I think we make our own luck, aye?” he said, taking her hand in his, and Elaina felt him trembling. Then he brought her palm to his lips and pressed a small kiss there.
“I don’t deserve you, Duncan.”
She moved her palm to his cheek, and he leaned into it. Deserving or not, right there, in that one gesture, Elaina knew he was hers and she his.
“Aye,” he said. “Ya sell yourself too short, love. I’m plenty responsible, in my own way, for what happened yesterday. And I don’t blame you for being angry.”
He pulled her hand to his chest, and it was only then that Elaina’s eyes were able to focus on the man who stood before her. She’d seen him in his kilt before, but a T-shirt or jumper had always accompanied it. He was the one who was a sight.
“Oh, Duncan. Look at you.”
He grinned, and though his heart hammered against her hand, she felt it slow to an even rhythm.
“You’re not mad about the eye?” His smile faltered with the question. “It’ll be in all the photos.”
She reached for his face with her free hand, letting her thumb brush over the bruise.
“You’re beautiful,” she told him. “This happened because of what you did for me, and I won’t forgive myself for thinking otherwise.”
He took both her wrists in his hands and lowered her arms to her sides. “We have to be done with the apologies and blame, Elaina. I’m here to marry you, dammit. It’s time to move forward. Promise me that from this moment on, we leave yesterday behind us because, fucking hell, I’d love to do that. It’s the New Year tomorrow, after all. Let’s start it with no regrets. Let’s start it as husband and wife.”
A smile tugged at her lips. That’s what she was hoping for when the knock sounded on the door—to move forward. To start her future with the person she loved most.
“Step back and let me look at you, then,” she told him, and he obliged.
Duncan raised his chin and tugged at the lapels of his navy jacket, preening for her.
“Ya like what ya see, aye.”
She nodded. “Very much. Especially the socks.” Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the socks themselves she liked but the way they hugged his muscular calves. Duncan wasn’t an athlete specifically, but he’d never owned a car. In the small part of Aberdeen where he’d grown up, he’d told Elaina he’d always loved walking. So by the time he was old enough to drive, he was in no rush to do so.
Duncan loved the outdoors, and Elaina loved the way it naturally sculpted his body.
“Actually,” she amended, “I’d like to get you out of those socks. I would like to get you out of that entire gorgeous ensemble, but Thea will kill me if I ruin my makeup. And I will kill me if I ruin this dress.”
Duncan held up a hand, hesitating for several seconds before letting his fingertips graze the neckline of her dress. She sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t stop him.
“I don’t have words, Elaina. Not the right ones to tell you what I see when I look at you.”
“Try to tell me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
His fingers traced the scalloped neckline, each glide of his skin against hers sending ripples of goose bumps down her arms, her legs, her spine.
“It stops my heart, and not just because you’re in that dress. Every day I see you and remind myself that you said yes, I lose a few seconds of my life.” He inclined his head toward the exposed skin on her collarbone and kissed her once. Twice. Once more.
“Then call me heart-stopping,” she squeaked out, her knees threatening to buckle.
“You’re heart-stopping,” he said, his lips continuing to follow the trail his fingers left. “And if I don’t kiss you—because shite, Elaina, other than last night, it’s been nearly a week—I’m not sure it’ll start beating again.”
She licked her lips, trying to remember what Thea had called the lipstick. A lip stain? It’s not supposed to rub off for hours, she’d said.
Well. Time to put it to the test.
She grabbed him by his…purse or whatever you called that little pouch that hung over the front of his kilt, hiding one of Elaina’s favorite parts of Duncan. She grinned and then crushed her mouth against his. And when his tongue slipped past her parted lips, she tasted his hunger—and his all-consuming love—and she fed off both.
“Marry me, Elaina Tripoli,” he said against her lips, and oh how she loved the sound of those words.
“Yes,” she replied. “My answer to that will always be yes.”
He chuckled and kissed her again.
“What about after today, when you’re my wife? I can’t ask you to marry me then, can I?”
She ran her fingers through his hair, loving that he wore it longer these days. It gave her something to grab onto when she needed him closer, just as she did now.
“You can always ask me to be yours,” she rasped against him. “And I’ll always say yes.” She gave his hair another soft tug.
He let out a quiet moan. “El-ain-a…” he pleaded. “We can’t. Not now. I’ve got to sneak my arse out of here and see you at the church for the first time.”
Her hands traveled to his neck, down the length of his back, then stopped to cup that lovely varéli through his kilt.
“Are you a true Scotsman?” she asked, and there was that delicious moan again. How she loved the things she could do to this man—and those he could do to her. Pity they couldn’t do those things right now. She would test the boundaries of her lipstick, but with only minutes before she had to leave for the church, she was not about to push it any further.
Duncan stepped back and cupped her cheeks. Surely they were flushed far beyond explanation. She’d need a few minutes to cool down before her family saw her.
“I am a Scotsman, aye,” he said. “But I am also a gentleman when it’s forty degrees and windy as hell. So you’ll have to make do with my tartan knickers,” he added, then proceeded to tease his wife-to-be by lifting his kilt just enough for her to see the McAllister tartan in undergarment form.
“Go,” she said. “Go before I have my way with you and ruin my dress.” She kissed him twice more—on the mouth and then on his beautiful and bruised cheek.
“There’s nothing I want more than for you to have your way with me…but it will have to wait until you are Elaina McAllister, if that’s okay with you.”
She opened the door and pushed him through it. If she didn’t, she’d never make it to becoming Elaina McAllister, but dammit she would enjoy the reason for missing her own wedding.
“I am not patient,” she said. “Especially when it comes to you.” And because she couldn’t help herself, she put that lip stain to one final test. This kiss was soft yet expectant, and it would have to do until later. Much later. Shit.
“I love you,” Duncan said, and then he slipped out the door without letting her respond, as if he didn’t need to hear her reciprocate. As if he always knew that despite her inability to always show him how she really felt, he never doubted her.
Elaina would never, ever doubt this most beautiful man again.
I think we make our own luck, aye?
“Aye, Duncan,” she said to herself. “I’m the luckiest person I know.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Griffin
Maggie was already gone by the time Griffin had finished his pint with Duncan and Noah. She’d texted, though.
The bridal party is getting ready at Elaina’s. Jordan said I could tag a
long.
Griffin’s Rocky soundtrack came to a screeching halt. He’d been buoyed with confidence not only from his ridiculous playlist but from the other guys as well. They’d all gotten themselves into messes, yet each man had been well intentioned in doing so.
Yes, he should have told Maggie what he was doing from the start, and he shouldn’t have put her in some virtual breakables cabinet. She was stronger than that, and he knew it. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to protect her now and always. Nothing…nothing was more important to him than the girl who trusted him to be the man he’d always hoped he could be.
That was it—he had to convince her to trust him again, and with Maggie that meant only one thing: total and utter honesty about why he wasn’t honest. Of course he would always worry about Maggie getting sick again, but that could happen anywhere. Her health wasn’t the reason he’d kept the fellowship from her. He was scared of moving so far out of his safety zone in order to chase a dream he only realized he had once he met her, but that wasn’t it, either. The biggest fear, the one that cost Griffin her trust, was that he didn’t want any of it if it meant a life without her. It wasn’t fair to put the responsibility for his happiness on her shoulders, not when she already carried so much. So he’d have to show Maggie that her burdens and responsibilities weren’t hers alone anymore. That was the deal, the fine print on the contract of what it meant to love someone the way he loved her. It was time to lay his half of the deck on the table and hope that Maggie was all in, too.
Noah
Noah found the small velvet box in his toiletry bag. He knew Jordan wouldn’t be there when he returned. The bridal party was due at Elaina’s at the same time he was having his morning pint. But his gut twisted at the sight of the ring back in his possession. Had he really fucked up this badly? If Jordan’s yes was now a no, he wasn’t sure he could take it. They’d come too far for him to have done irreparable damage. He had to believe that much because the alternative was unthinkable.
The whole point of this trip was to replace painful memories with positive ones, but that had already backfired.
