“I really don’t mind,” I said, suddenly desperate to make an escape before I broke down. “In fact, I insist.”
“Cheyenne.”
“Let’s move that way.” I took the lead, maneuvering us over to the side where Mariah stood. “Hey sweetie,” I said, smiling at her. “Want to dance with your dad?”
Her eyes lit up. “Can I?”
“Of course,” I said, letting him go. “He’s all yours.”
“Yay!” She spread her arms, and Cole embraced her the way he’d held me, dancing her back out onto the floor without another glance in my direction.
I stood next to Mrs. Mitchell for a moment, a smile pasted on my face, laughing a little despite myself when Mariah tried executing a few fancy twirls. When the song was over, I applauded along with the rest of the guests, then watched as Griffin brought my mom onto the floor, and Blair asked Charlie Frankel to dance.
Cole and Mariah ended up on the other side of the room, but I felt his eyes on me. Careful not to meet them, I watched my brother dance with my mom and missed my dad with a ferocious ache in my heart. I wiped away tears when the song ended.
At that point, the DJ played an up-tempo oldie and invited everyone to the dance floor. I saw Mariah begging her dad to take her back out there, and Cole arguing before finally giving in. Feeling like I could use a drink, I made my way to the bar.
Glass of wine in my hand, I stood way over to one side, hoping to fade into the shadows. I hated myself for being such a party pooper at my brother’s wedding—I was the maid of honor, for fuck’s sake—but I felt like I just needed a little timeout before getting back on the dance floor. I decided I’d give myself ten minutes to breathe and finish my wine, then I’d set aside my feelings and act like a best friend and good sister should.
Even if I had to fake it.
* * *
It worked, to a point.
I drank more wine. I danced right out of my shoes. I smiled for pictures and laughed with friends and even went out onto the floor when Blair tossed the bouquet—which I missed, much to the dismay of my mother, who pointed out that I could have dived for it if I’d really cared.
But I discovered that faking a good time led to actually having a good time, even if beneath the surface, I was still heartbroken over Cole.
He danced a few times with Mariah, but other than that he mostly hung out with the guys near the bar. Our table was clearly my turf, and when I wasn’t dancing, I sat there with Blair or Frannie or Mariah or my mom, sipping wine and trying not to look in his direction.
But I could feel his eyes on me.
Around eleven, the DJ announced the last song, an old Nat King Cole ballad my dad used to love. Misty-eyed, I pulled my heels back on and watched Griffin and Blair moving to the music. I was so emotional, I didn’t see Cole approach.
“Cheyenne?” His voice was low in my ear. “Would you like to dance?”
I looked over my shoulder, my stomach flip-flopping. “Oh! Um, sure. Okay.”
He offered his hand, and I took it, rising to my feet and walking on unsteady legs onto the dance floor. When he took me into his arms, he held me much closer than he had before. I was positive he could feel my heart pounding against his chest.
For a minute or so, we danced in silence, and I tried to let myself enjoy the fact that he’d actually asked me—this wasn’t out of duty. He’d crossed the room to take my hand and hold me one more time. So why did it feel like the consolation prize?
“Did you have fun tonight?” he asked.
“Yes. Did you?”
“Yes. I think I danced more tonight than I have in thirty years.”
I smiled. “I liked when Mariah stood on your feet.”
He groaned. “As if dancing wasn’t hard enough for me.”
“I don’t know. I think you move okay.”
He said nothing, but pulled me even closer. Feelings bubbled perilously near the surface.
“My dad loved this song,” I said, my throat tight. “It reminds me of him.”
“He was a good guy.”
I nodded. Took a deep breath. “We really missed him today.” Then I remembered that I probably wasn’t the only one struggling with grief. “Was today tough for you?”
“Yes.”
Even though I’d suspected as much, his words still caused a sharp twinge in my chest.
“But not in the way you think.”
I pulled back slightly to look at him. “What?”
“Today was mostly tough for me because I felt bad about last night.”
I stiffened. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. The way it ended was all wrong.”
“But it had to end that way, Cole. I know it’s hard to understand, because I can’t make you feel what I feel, but believe me when I say that we’re better off today having stopped things last night.” The song ended, so I let him go and stepped back just as Griffin and Blair approached.
“Hey, we’re heading back over to the bar at the inn,” my brother announced. “Coming, Cole?”
“Maybe,” said Cole. “I need to make sure Mariah gets to bed.”
“Chey?” Griffin looked at me.
“Actually, I’m a little tired, and my feet kind of hurt. I might just go back to my room.”
Griffin frowned. “Don’t be fucking lame. Go put some other shoes on and come down to the bar.”
“If she’s tired, she doesn’t have to come.” Blair caught my eye to let me know she understood.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, mostly to avoid an argument.
But when we finally made it back to the inn, I pulled Blair aside in the lobby. “Hey, will you be okay if I don’t go to the bar?”
“Of course,” she said, her eyes concerned. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It was just a really long day.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cole saying goodnight to Mariah, giving her a hug and kiss before turning her over to his mom. “And I’m going to sneak off before Cole sees me go.”
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
“Because he feels bad about last night, and I just can’t listen to another apology. I want to forget what happened—or almost happened—and try to get back to normal. But that’s not going to happen tonight.”
“I understand.” She hugged me. “You’re amazing, and I love you, and someday we’re going to do this all over again for your wedding.”
I swallowed hard. “I hope so.”
“Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay.” I let her go and headed immediately for the stairs before anyone could stop me.
* * *
In my room, I breathed a sigh of relief as the door shut behind me. Going over to the bed, I sank down and slipped off my shoes. From inside my evening bag, my phone buzzed, and reluctantly I took it out and looked at the screen.
Griffin: Get your ass down here.
Me: I love you but I’m too tired. Goodnight.
Griffin: Unacceptable.
Rather than fight him, I simply put my phone on Do Not Disturb and set it aside. There was no way I was going down to that bar. Griffin would get over it.
Flopping onto my back, I flung an arm across my eyes, blocking out the light from the bedside lamp. Waiting for tears. Surprised when they didn’t come.
Was I simply too exhausted to let out all the feelings I’d held in all day? Was that possible? And what was I going to do about the future? I couldn’t go on like this. Living next door to him was a special kind of torture. And even after he moved, he’d still be right there in town, at all family functions. We’d still bump into each other all the time.
Maybe it was time to think about moving away from Bellamy Creek. Applying for a teaching job somewhere else. Making a fresh start.
While I was pondering it, someone knocked on my door—three hard, staccato beats.
I groaned in annoyance. “Go away, Griffin. I’m not coming down.”
Three more knocks.
Then I stopped talking.
It wasn’t my brother.
Fifteen
Cole
Pushing inside her room without being invited, I held the door open with my hand. “You don’t have to come down, but goddammit, you need to listen to me.”
She looked taken aback for a moment, then shook her head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because we don’t want the same thing, Cole. I mean, yes, tonight we probably want the same thing,” she said, her eyes traveling over my shoulders and chest and down to my crotch before she quickly flicked them up again. “And there was a time in my life when I’d have done it in a heartbeat, just to be with you like that. But I’m—”
“Stop talking,” I said, putting a finger over her perfect lips. The door slammed shut behind me. “Stop talking and listen. All night I’ve been trying to tell you you’re wrong, and I can’t fucking get the words out, because you keep cutting me off.”
Her eyes flashed with fire as she pushed my hand away. “I’m protecting myself, Cole.”
“You don’t need protecting, Cheyenne. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” I took her head in my hands and looked her in the eye. “You’re safe with me.”
“But last night you said—”
“Last night, I was still confused. I couldn’t think straight. I haven’t been able to think straight for months where you’re concerned. And then when you told me how you’d felt all that time, it was like being hit by a train. There were all these things I wanted to say to you but couldn’t.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I know that was a lot—what I told you.”
I shook my head. “Don’t be sorry. I needed to hear it. I needed to be pushed into facing the truth.”
“What’s the truth?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“That I have feelings for you. And they’re not going to go away just because I ignore them.”
Cheyenne’s mouth had fallen open, and I traced her bottom lip with my thumb.
“Believe me, I’ve tried to ignore them. I’ve tried to talk myself out of them. I’ve denied them to anyone who asked.”
She blinked. “People have asked?”
“Yes. Apparently I am not an expert at hiding the way I feel about you.”
“You hid it from me.”
“Well, I don’t want to hide it anymore,” I told her, loving the way it made her expression melt from surprise into bliss. “Not from you, not from myself, not from anyone. That’s why today was tough—because I realized that even though I have no fucking idea what I’m doing, I don’t want to lose you.”
“You don’t?”
“No.” I kissed her lips, then whispered against them. “When you have something precious in your hands, you need to hold on tight.”
She slid her hands up my chest and looped them around my neck, pulling me toward her. Slanting my mouth over hers, I moved my hands into her soft, thick hair the way I’d been dying to all night long. It fell in loose waves over her shoulders, pouring like champagne down her back. My fingers found the zipper at the back of her dress and pulled it down, the erotic sound sending a jolt of desire straight to my cock.
Her hands moved to my tie, loosened the knot, and pulled it free of my collar. I took my hands off her just long enough to shrug out of my suit jacket and toss it aside, then ran my palms down her velvet-covered rib cage and hips while she unbuckled my belt and yanked my shirt free of my pants.
Impatient to feel her skin against mine, I unbuttoned my shirt and threw it aside as she undid my pants. I groaned when she slipped her hand inside them, wrapping her fingers around my cock. For a moment, all I could do was stand there, reveling in the sensation of her touch. I’d been so hard for her so many times but had never felt her hand closing around me, or heard the sigh of desire on her lips, or the eager moan of anticipation as I thickened in her fist.
Recovering my senses, I whipped my T-shirt over my head and kicked off my shoes. Then I turned her to face the bed and slipped the off-the-shoulder sleeves of her dress down her arms. It fell to the floor, revealing a pair of lace underwear in a color that matched her skin tone. I gathered her hair in my hands and buried my face in it, inhaling deeply before sweeping it aside and putting my lips on her throat. She tilted her head and reached up with one arm, threading her fingers into my hair as I kissed my way down her neck, my cock pushing against her ass.
My mouth traveled down her shoulder blade, and I dropped to my knees behind her, pulling her underwear down her legs. She stepped out of them and the dress at the same time, and I turned her to face me. Looking up the length of her body, I felt a surge of arousal so powerful I nearly growled like an animal.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I managed to say instead, running my hands up the sides of her thighs, pausing to grip her hips.
Her lips curved into the kind of smile I hoped she’d never given to any other man. “Thank you.”
Flattening my hands on her belly, I slid them up over her full, round breasts, her nipples tight and hard against the center of my palms. She moaned as I teased the stiff peaks with my fingers and traced a circle around her belly button with my tongue.
“Cole,” she panted, reaching down as if to pull me to my feet. “I want you.”
“You’ve got me.” I stood up just long enough to tip her backward onto the bed, then I knelt at her feet again and pushed her knees apart. “So be patient. I’ve waited for this a long time.”
“You have!” She sounded shocked as she propped herself up on her elbows.
But I wasn’t interested in arguing who’d wanted each other first or more—all I cared about was now, and now was pretty fucking good because I was licking my way up one inner thigh and then the other, stopping just short of putting my mouth where I wanted it.
Above me, I heard her whimper and try to protest, but her frustrated sounds gave way to sweet little sighs of rapture when I finally stroked up her warm, wet center with my tongue, lingering at the top, teasing her clit with slow, sensual circles. Ravenous for her, I licked and sucked and buried my tongue inside her, my hands hooked beneath her legs, holding her to me as if she might try to escape.
She tasted as sweet as she looked—champagne and honey—and I groaned in agonized delight as I devoured her. When her sounds grew more frantic and her body writhed and bucked beneath my mouth, I slipped my fingers inside her, my jealous cock aching to ease into that soft, slick heat.
Beside her legs, her hands clawed at the sheets, and I could feel the muscles in her body go tense as she contracted around my fingers. I moved my tongue a little faster and harder, pushed my fingers a little deeper, and suddenly she was crying out in relief, her orgasm pulsing from her body into mine, like ripples on the water.
As soon as I felt her body relax slightly, I jumped to my feet, and ditched the rest of my clothes, pausing only to pull my wallet from my pants pocket. She lifted herself up onto her elbows and watched as I took out the condom and tore the wrapper open.
“Am I dreaming?” she asked breathlessly, scooting up toward the headboard.
“Want me to pinch you?” I rolled the condom on and stretched out above her.
“Yes, please.” She opened her legs for me and put her hands on my chest. “I want you to do everything to me.”
I braced myself over her and eased into her body slowly, even though my heart raced ahead and my instinct was to chase it. Below me, I watched Cheyenne’s face change, her eyes closing as she took me in, heard her breathing become more labored as she struggled to relax and get used to my size.
“Are you okay?” I asked her.
“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes opening again. She moved her hands over my shoulders and down my back. “I want to savor every single moment
, even if it hurts.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said, my voice raw with need, my body tense with bound energy, a lion caged. “I want to make you feel good.”
“Cole.” She lifted her head and kissed my throat, my collarbone, my jaw. Her hands slid down over my ass and pulled me in deeper. “Give me everything. I’ve waited so long.”
At her invitation, I began to move, slowly at first, deep, long strokes that made her arch and gasp and dig her fingernails into my skin. I wanted to be patient for her—I wanted to be gentle and tender and sweet—she’d waited for this, dreamed about this, and I wanted to be the man in her dreams who catered to her every whim, anticipated her every need, gave her everything she wanted. But instead I found myself struggling to hold onto control—she was so beautiful, so wet and warm and soft, and it felt so fucking good to be inside her, to give in to the temptation I’d fought for so damn long.
And she didn’t help—she urged me on with her moans and sighs, with her hands that gripped and pulled, with her kisses that teased and tantalized, with her honey-and-champagne flavor still on my tongue. She met every thrust of mine with her own, our bodies moving rhythmically together as if they’d been made for each other, as if we’d been doing this all our lives.
“God, Cheyenne,” I rasped, pausing with my cock buried deep inside her. “This feels too good. I’m too fucking close.”
“Me too,” she whispered, tilting her hips. “Don’t stop.”
Groaning, I began to move again, fucking her hard and deep. I remembered all the nights I’d fantasized about her, all the times I’d imagined being inside her this way—my hand had been a poor fucking substitute. This was a full-body experience, and every nerve ending was alive and on fire. Every sense was intensified—I could smell her, taste her, hear her crying out for me, for God, for release. Stars appeared behind my closed eyes as I reached the peak and clung to the edge, desperate to bring her with me, rocking into her again and again, until I felt the tension within her give way and her frustrated, pleading cries were eclipsed by one long sigh as her body clenched around me. I let go, and my body took over, exploding inside her, turning inside out, throbbing in hot, desperate, rippling waves of relief.
Make Me Yours: The Bellamy Creek Series Page 17
