Make Me Yours: The Bellamy Creek Series

by Harlow, Melanie

  “It’s her.”

  I followed his line of sight and saw that Bianca DeRossi had entered the bar and was giving Blair a big hug. “Oh.”

  “What the hell is she doing, following me?” He tipped up his drink again.

  “I don’t know. Looks like she’s friends with Blair.”

  He grimaced as Bianca made her way toward us. “Gentlemen,” she said smoothly, giving us a smile. “Nice to see you again. You’re quite the most dashing couple in the room, all due respect to the bride and groom.”

  “Knock it off, Bianca. You know we’re not a couple.” Moretti glared at her.

  She laughed and held up both hands. “Fair enough, I surrender. Way to ruin a girl’s fantasy.” Turning to me, she said, “I hear you made an offer on the house by the creek.”

  “And it was accepted,” Moretti said with smug triumph, as if it had been a competition between them.

  “Congratulations.” She gave me a genuine smile. “It’s a great house. You and your daughter will love it, I’m sure. If you need any help with the interior, just let me know.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “What are you doing here, anyway?” Moretti demanded, like this was his turf and she was trespassing on it.

  “I’m a friend of Blair’s.”

  “Since when?”

  She gave him an odd look. “Since I moved back and we met at book club and hit it off.”

  “Book club?” Moretti looked like he wasn’t sure he believed her. Either that or he’d never heard of a book club.

  “Yes.” She put a hand up to her mouth and stage whispered, “We both love teenage vampires, but don’t tell anyone.” Then she dropped her arm, her voice returning to normal. “Now if you’ll excuse me, that drive was harrowing and I could really use a drink. Enjoy your evening.” With one final smile—and a glitter of mischief in her eye when she looked at Moretti, she melted into the crowd by the bar.

  “That woman,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes still on her. “I don’t know what it is about her, but she drives me crazy.”

  I tossed back some more bourbon. “Okay, but we were talking about me. My problem. So you think just go over and say, ‘Hey, want to go up to my room?’”

  Moretti made a face like he’d sniffed something bad. “Is that how you’re going to do it?”

  “What was wrong with that?”

  “You need more subtlety, more smolder. You can’t just proposition her like that.”

  “Well then, show me how to do it,” I said impatiently, eyeing her across the room. She was laughing at some other guy’s joke and touching his arm. He was alarmingly buff and good-looking too. A stab of jealousy pierced my gut.

  “Okay, try it like this.” Moretti lowered his chin for a second, and when he raised it again, his eyes were hooded and seductive, and he spoke in a low, sultry voice. “Hey. What do you say we ditch this crowd and go someplace quieter?”

  I blinked. “Wow.”

  Moretti dropped the act. “Okay, now you try it.”

  I took a deep breath and tried to arrange my face the way he had. I leaned toward him and repeated his words.

  He frowned. “It’s not quite right. Maybe try it like this.” His face went from critical to come hither, and he swayed toward me again. “Hey. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had about enough of this crowd. You want to get out of here?”

  “Oh, now see? That’s more like it.” Bianca had snuck up on us, catching Moretti pretending to seduce me. She sighed and sipped her wine. “I gotta say, real couple or not, you two are sexy as hell. Do you have a YouTube channel? I’d like to subscribe.”

  Moretti rolled his eyes and looked at me. “Go. You got this. I’ll handle the viper.”

  “Okay.” I loosened my tie a little—why was it suddenly so hot in here?—and made my way through the crowd toward where Cheyenne stood chatting with some people I didn’t recognize. The room spun a little, and the floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. I’d definitely drunk too much too fast. It gave me a moment’s pause—maybe coming onto her after this much bourbon was a mistake?

  But then it was too late. I’d reached her side, and she turned to smile at me. “Hey, Cole. Have you ever met my cousin Liam Dempsey?”

  Understanding and relief swept through me. The buff dude was her cousin. And if memory served, he was a Navy SEAL who lived somewhere out east. “I think we met once way back when.” I offered my hand, and Liam shook it.

  “Good to see you, Cole,” he said.

  “And this is his wife, Natalie.” Cheyenne gestured toward a pretty blonde whom I hadn’t noticed standing on his other side.

  “Nice to meet you.” I shook her hand as well. “You’re from out of state, right?”

  Liam nodded. “Virginia Beach. We were lucky to make it in late last night. So many flights were canceled today.”

  “Hopefully, you’re not stuck here for weeks on end,” said Cheyenne. “They’ve got two kids,” she said to me. “Aarabelle and Shane.”

  “Oh, really? Did you bring them with you?” I asked, thinking Mariah might like having some kids to hang out with at the reception.

  “No, they’re back home,” Natalie said. “Our daughter is in second grade and had school today, and our son is only three. We decided to take a long weekend just for ourselves. We haven’t done that in forever.” She wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist and he gathered her close, kissing the top of her head.

  Another stab of envy—I wished I could touch Cheyenne in front of people like that. Go away with her. Spend the night with her.

  But it was impossible.

  “Well, enjoy,” I said. “I’ve got a nine-year-old daughter, and I know how hard it is to get away.”

  “His daughter Mariah is standing up in the wedding tomorrow,” Cheyenne added. “She’s just the sweetest thing ever.”

  Natalie beamed. “She must be thrilled. How exciting to stand up in a wedding at that age.”

  “Yes.” I wasn’t sure what else to say—and how on earth was I supposed to entice Cheyenne up to my room with an audience looking on?

  Thankfully, Cheyenne put things in motion. “Well, it’s getting late,” she said, looking into her empty wine glass. “And I’ve probably had enough wine tonight.”

  “I hear you,” Natalie said. “I had to cut myself off already or I’d be a mess tomorrow.” She looked up at her husband. “What do you say, babe, should we turn in?”

  “Sure.” Liam nodded at Cheyenne and me. “See you guys tomorrow. Sleep well.”

  “Goodnight.” Cheyenne faced me as they retreated, giving me a smile. “Hey, you.”

  “Hey.” I knew what I was supposed to say, but somehow my tongue was tied in knots and I couldn’t get the words out.

  “Having a good time?”

  “No. I mean, yes—I was—but now I’m not.”

  Her expression was confused. “Okayyy.”

  I exhaled, my shoulders slumping in defeat, my eyes slamming shut. Then I straightened up and looked at her again—and what came tumbling out of my mouth was the bourbon-infused truth. “That did not come out right. What I was supposed to say was some bullshit about the room being crowded. Then I was going to ask you if you wanted to get out of here and go up to my room.”

  “You were?”

  “Yes. But not because the bar is crowded.” I took a step closer to her. Reached for her hand. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because you’re killing me in that dress. Because I don’t want to lie awake tonight wishing I’d had the courage to tell you how much I want you.”

  Her plush bottom lip had fallen open. Her brown eyes were wide. “Cole,” she whispered, her hand tightening around mine. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Twelve

  Cheyenne

  Without another word, Cole turned and pulled me out of the bar, stopping only to set his empty glass and mine on a vacant table.

  He moved quickly, his long legs striding purposefully into the
lobby—then he stopped, looking at the people still milling around.

  I knew what he was thinking—they’d all see us racing upstairs together. “Elevator,” I said.

  Hand in hand, we hurried around the back of the stairs and down the first-floor hall to the inn’s single elevator. Cole punched a button, and the doors opened immediately. He tugged me inside, and hit the number two, and as soon as the doors closed, he spun me against the wall and pressed his body against mine.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his breath on my lips, before crushing his mouth to mine. The elevator began to ascend—at least I think it did. Either way, I felt like gravity had failed. Everything was going up, up, up.

  All too soon and not soon enough, the doors opened and Cole broke the kiss, taking my hand once more and pulling me down the hall. In front of his door, he paused to pull his keycard from his wallet and inserted it. Once we were inside, he tossed the keycard and his wallet to the floor and slammed the door behind us.

  Then his hands were in my hair again, his lips were on my throat, his body was nudging mine backward toward the bed. I went willingly, falling backward across it.

  One lamp was on in the corner of the room, illuminating him in soft gold light as he yanked his tie off and unbuttoned his collar. Propped on my elbows, I watched, panting and eager.

  A second later he was on me, a fantasy come to life.

  Cole, Cole, Cole, I thought blissfully as his mouth slanted over mine. He kissed me hungrily, like he’d been starving for it the way I had, like he’d been holding back for years. His tongue stroked between my lips as he pinned my arms over my head, then slid his palms from wrist to elbow to the sides of my ribs. His cock, thick and hard, pressed against my thigh, sending electric pulses of anticipation throughout my body.

  He’s going to be inside me, I thought. He’s going to link his body with mine and it’s going to feel so good to be that close to him. Finally. Fucking finally.

  I kicked off my heels, and heard his shoes hit the floor too. Slipping his forearm beneath my lower back, he moved me up the mattress, closer to the headboard so our bodies were pressed together from head to heel.

  I wrapped both legs around one of his. “God, I want you,” I whispered. Even the feel of his muscular thigh between my legs was enough to have me rocking my hips beneath him. I’d dreamed about this night for so long.

  “Fuck, I can’t wait to taste you.” His mouth moved down my neck, and I threaded my fingers into his hair. Every nerve ending in my body was tingling, every inch of my skin on fire. One question echoed inside my head.

  “Is this real?” I whispered.

  “God, I hope so.” He kissed my shoulder, my collarbone, my breast through the clingy black material of my dress, before bringing his lips back up to mine. “You’re making me crazy tonight.”

  Tonight? You’ve been making me crazy for twenty years.

  He moved to one side of me so he could reach inside the slit on my dress. I shivered as his fingers touched my skin and his palm slid up my inner thigh. At the first skim of his fingertips over my black lace panties, a sigh escaped me and I raised my knee toward the ceiling, tilting my hips toward him.

  He caressed me gently through the silk before edging one finger beneath it, groaning as he slipped it easily inside me. I moved my hips against his hand, my fingers fumbling with the buttons on his dress shirt. He worked two fingers inside me, and I moaned against his lips. “That feels so good,” I panted.

  “I want you so fucking badly tonight,” he growled, his other hand fisting in my hair.

  There it was again. That word—tonight.

  “Cole, wait.” I pushed against his chest slightly, just so I could look up at him. “What about tomorrow?” I asked breathlessly.

  “Huh?” His hand went still.

  Stop! screamed teenage me in my head. Don’t ruin this! We’ve waited long enough!

  But I couldn’t help it. “What about tomorrow? Will you want me then? And what about yesterday?”

  “I . . . I don’t understand.” He took his hand from my underwear.

  “I don’t either. And I’m probably going to hate myself for this, but something doesn’t feel right.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  I took a deep breath, willing myself to have the strength to say what needed to be said. “The first night you walked me home, you told me why you don’t date, and I understood. Last week, you explained to me in heart-wrenching detail why you and I should probably just be friends, and I agreed. Last night you said you wished things were different, and I did too . . . so are they?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.” He sounded genuinely confused, and then he rolled onto his back. “I’m sorry. I guess I was just trying to let go and have some fun.”

  I sat up, pushing my dress down and bringing my legs together. “I was too.”

  “And I really do want you. Everything I said tonight is true.”

  I pressed my lips together, knowing a but was coming.

  “But you’re right. Nothing has changed. I’m still the same guy I was last week, with the same issues.” He flung his arm over his eyes, and I caught the shine of his wedding ring in the lamplight. “I can’t make you any promises. And I can’t lie to you.”

  I nodded, knowing deep down this was wrong for me. While I wanted nothing more than to let him love me for the night, some gut, adult instinct told me to protect myself, even while teenage me threw a tantrum in the corner of my mind, my girl parts backing her up.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again.

  “No need for apology, Cole.” I took another deep breath. “I came up here willingly, and part of me is still desperately hoping tonight ends with me in your arms, because I can’t tell you how badly I’ve always wanted to be there.”

  He looked over at me. “I want you there too.”

  “But not enough,” I said, hearing the catch in my voice, even as I smiled. “And it’s okay. The truth is, Cole, I don’t want it enough either—not enough to invite the heartbreak that would follow. Because I won’t be able to just walk away from this and be okay. It will mean too much to me.”

  He didn’t say anything. His chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths.

  “It’s not your fault,” I said. “You can’t read my mind, and I’ve never been entirely honest about my feelings for you. So I’m sorry too, for leading you to believe I could be that girl who’s up for anything. It wasn’t fair.”

  “Cheyenne.” He reached over and put a hand on my leg.

  “I really thought I could be her tonight. I wanted to be her tonight. God knows I’ve been her every other night of my life.” My eyes blurred with tears. “The truth is, Cole, I’ve loved you hopelessly for so long that I don’t know any other way to do it. But being with you like that would give me hope, and that’s something I can’t afford right now.”

  “Cheyenne, I—”

  “No, don’t,” I said, sliding off the bed, away from his touch, his scent, his blue eyes looking at me with despair. I couldn’t bear to hear him explain why he couldn’t love me back. I’d always known. “Don’t say anything. Let’s just leave it be and do what we said, okay? Let’s be friends. My feelings will fade again.” Slipping my feet into my shoes, I heard myself laugh nervously. “They always do.”

  He propped himself up on his elbows. “I don’t want you to go.”

  I turned to him with a tearful smile. “I have to, Cole. I have to go to my room alone, where I will put myself in a timeout, curse myself for blowing my chance to sleep with you, and wallow in the humiliation of everything I’ve just confessed. But once I get over all that, I’m hoping to feel good about this.”

  It took him a moment to reply. “I understand.”

  “Thank you. Goodnight.” Aiming for a dignified exit, I headed for the door, but then turned around again. “I don’t suppose there’s any way you could just forget everything I said to you tonight and pretend like th
is never happened?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I’ll never forget the things you said to me tonight.”

  So much for dignity. Cheeks burning, I moved for the door again.

  “Cheyenne, wait!” He got out of bed and darted past me, reaching the door first, flattening his back against it.

  Yes, Cole. Beg me to stay. Give me hope. Say you want me—not just for tonight.

  “Yes?” I held my breath.

  “I want you to know . . .” He ran a hand over his jaw. “I want you to know that I understand how you feel. And I hope you know how much I care about you. There hasn’t been anyone since Trisha that I—that I want this way.”

  But not enough, I thought again, the lump rising in my throat. Not enough.

  “I’m sorry if I messed up our friendship by saying one thing and doing another,” he went on. “I won’t do it again.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, wondering how the hell I was going to get through tomorrow. “Okay.”

  He opened the door for me, and I held my head high as I walked through it.

  At the sound of it closing behind me, I burst into tears.

  * * *

  After a near sleepless night, I dragged my ass out of bed at eight the next morning and knocked on the door of the bridal suite fifteen minutes later.

  Blair took one look at my puffy face and bloodshot eyes the next morning and gasped. “Oh my God. What happened to you?”

  “Do you have coffee?” I croaked.

  “Yes. Come in, no one else is here yet.” She shut the door behind me and hurried over to a table where coffee, tea, and breakfast had been set out for the female wedding party. The entire room was big and bright, with lots of white everywhere—white carpet on the dark wood floor, white sheers on the windows, two white sofas facing each other, three white salon chairs facing three white-framed mirrors on walls painted a soft gray. In a couple hours, a hair and makeup team would arrive—they’d have a hell of a job whipping my sorry self into shape—and we were all due for a photo shoot at three.

  Sometime between now and then, I had to prepare myself to face Cole. Walk down the aisle with him. Dance in his arms.