Be My Always: A BWWM Romance (Make It Marriage Book 1)

by Nia Arthurs

  I keep my eyes trained on the ring-bearer and flower girl as they do their thing.

  Even though I’m not looking his direction, I can feel Brendon’s gaze on me.

  It’s hot and heavy.

  Kind of the way I wanted to get with him before he bailed.

  There’s no chance that will happen now.

  I’m already mortified that we’re meeting again like this.

  Inside of a bar, where it’s dark and smoky and everyone’s kind of tipsy and out of their minds, what Brendon and I were—what I wanted us to be—was fair game.

  Because, inside a bar, the rules change.

  Reality isn’t that forgiving.

  Especially now that we’re meeting through mutual friends.

  I don’t want to be remembered as the girl he almost took home. A girl he was this close to screwing before whatever mysterious call whisked him away.

  There’s something demeaning about that.

  Something… shameful.

  The doors close to prepare for the bride’s entrance.

  My gaze sneaks left.

  Brendon’s right there. Staring at me. He’s thinking about that night too.

  Shame isn’t what he’s feeling though.

  I can tell.

  He smirks.

  My fingers clench around the bouquet.

  Even with all the chaos going on in my mind… I want those lips on me.

  I want those hands touching me.

  Geez, I’m insane.

  I’m in church.

  The doors crack open again.

  Grateful for an excuse to look away, I move my attention to Zania.

  She’s a gorgeous bride.

  I feel a twinge of sorrow when I see her walking in alone.

  Looks like her relationship with her father still hasn’t patched up.

  For a moment, I think about my dad. I’m privileged to have both my parents in my life. Their marriage sparked my interest in matchmaking and their encouragement helped me earn both my degrees.

  But I’m aware that not everyone has the same background. A lot of women have been wrecked while searching for the validation of a father in a romantic partner.

  That’s not always the case though.

  Whether Zania’s got her father involved in her life or not, I know Teale’s prepared to be there for her. All the way.

  She walks with her head held high. With confidence. Like she knows it.

  The train flutters behind her.

  A glance at Teale’s face shows tears falling down his cheeks.

  I don’t bother looking at Brendon.

  I know where his eyes will be.

  I’m already feeling off-kilter.

  He’s making me that way.

  Seduction is nothing new for him.

  I bet he expects to pick up right where we left off.

  As if I’m a movie that he can press pause on whenever he wants.

  I grit my teeth.

  Feel my temper rising.

  That offer’s no longer on the table.

  My pride won’t allow it.

  Whatever the cost, I’ll make him regret leaving me alone that night.

  Eight

  Brendon

  I can’t stop staring at her.

  Even with Zania decked out in all her white-satin glory and Teale sobbing like a baby beside me, there’s not a damn chance I can look in another direction.

  It’s more than those pouty lips and Coke-bottle curves.

  Kayla’s a knockout.

  But she’s also transparent.

  There. That subtle lip bite? A snag of white teeth against soft-pink lips?

  She’s thinking about me. Shyly. Sheepishly.

  She’s probably regretting meeting me in the bar. Probably wishing that I hadn’t approached her in the first place. That I hadn’t flirted with her. That she hadn’t flirted back.

  Our eyes meet.

  Her nostrils flare.

  Pupils dilate.

  I see it all before she cuts the eye contact short.

  She wants me.

  So badly.

  Even if she wishes she didn’t.

  Even if it hurts her pride.

  I feel a smirk growing on my face, but I can’t hold it back.

  Realizing we want the same thing—though she’s fighting it more than I am—excites me.

  It’ll be a battle to win Kayla over, but I won’t be warring alone.

  Half of her is on my side already.

  Now, her eyes go soft.

  There. See that?

  She’s looking at Zania walking down the aisle. Her eyes get misty. She’s reminiscing. Probably about something sentimental. Her own wedding day, perhaps?

  Then she’s glancing my way again.

  It’s not intentional. Zania’s handing over her flowers so she can clasp Teale’s hand and pay attention to the pastor. Kayla has no choice but to accept the bouquet.

  We change positions, shifting slightly toward each other.

  She has to face me.

  This time, her jaw’s clenched.

  Brown eyes fall into slits.

  She’s angry.

  At me.

  Easy enough to guess why.

  Not that I need to make assumptions.

  Her little jab while we were walking down the aisle spoke volumes.

  She’s hurt that I left her hanging that night.

  Pissed.

  Over it.

  But not me.

  I’m just getting started.

  It’s a beautiful wedding.

  Or so I assume.

  I’m too busy sneaking peeks at the stunning maid-of-honor to pay attention.

  Finally, the pastor instructs Teale to kiss his bride. He—in usual Teale-fashion—overdoes it by dipping Zania and planting a scorching kiss on her lips.

  Celebratory music plays.

  Zania and Teale join hands and dance down the aisle.

  I step toward Kayla and offer my hand.

  She ignores it and dances out on her own.

  It’s a clear and obvious snub.

  A few guests in the front row flinch on my behalf.

  I just grin.

  That attitude only makes her more tantalizing.

  Once we’re outside, Kayla and I are separated by the crowd of well-wishers. Guests swarm the bride and groom for congratulatory hugs, kisses and encouragement.

  Someone clasps me on the shoulder. I turn and meet Ollie, Teale’s brother.

  “Hey.” I slap his hand and lean in for a back-thump. “Glad you finally made it.”

  “Yeah.” He dots at the sweat on his forehead. The sun glints over his massive shoulders and arms that are covered in ink and sinewy muscles.

  Ollie owns his own gym and it shows. But as rough and tough as he appears, he’s the softie of the group. “Chandra’s upset we couldn’t see the wedding. Did we miss much?”

  “Teale cried.”

  “As to be expected. He’s a wimp.”

  I chuckle. “Didn’t you faint on your wedding day?”

  “Shut up, Humes. That was before the ceremony and I have low blood pressure.”

  I chuckle.

  “Chandra almost killed the guy who ran into us,” Ollie whispers. “If I hadn’t gotten her here in time to catch the last of it…” He shudders.

  It sucks that Chandra’s upset, but I’ve got no complaints. If they hadn’t gotten delayed, I may have never run into Kayla. I’m betting she would have spied me from afar and made it her mission to avoid me today.

  In the distance, I see a tall, stunning woman gesturing to Ollie.

  “Looks like it’s time for pictures,” Ollie grumbles.

  “Sounds like you love being in front of the camera.”

  He gives me the side-eye.

  Grunts.

  I’ll take that as a no.

  Together, we weave through the crowd to where Chandra is standing. I’m surprised to see Kayla with her. Given the snub earlier, I assumed
she’d beat a fiery trail out of here.

  “We’re heading to the lighthouse for the photo-shoot,” Chandra says, holding back her long, dark brown hair with one hand. “Come on, babe.”

  “See you there, guys.” Ollie presses into his wife and nudges her through the crowd.

  “Wait, but what about… me?” Kayla’s eyes dart in the direction that Chandra and Ollie have disappeared. Then they’re back on me. She stares at my chin like she’s torn between running away and staying put. “Guess they forgot.”

  “I can give you a lift.”

  She shakes her head. “I’ll catch a taxi.”

  I take her wrist.

  She gasps in surprise. Finally looks me in my eyes.

  Gently, I tug her toward the parking lot. “I’m this way.”

  She stumbles behind me.

  I lead her to my car and press the alarm. The door whirs open on it’s own.

  She arches an eyebrow. “You’re into cars?”

  “Not too deeply, but this one spoke to me.”

  “Expensive taste.”

  “Good taste.” I give her a pointed look. “But you knew that already.”

  She presses her lips together. Slants me a look that says don’t get any ideas.

  That’s a waste of time.

  My mind’s already filled with all the things I want to do with her. To her.

  She’s too gorgeous and feisty to resist, but I’ll do my best to behave.

  I jab my chin in Kayla’s direction. “Will we keep standing and glaring at each other or can we get moving?”

  The sun is baking my head.

  Being pale has very little perks.

  Burning at the smallest drop of sunshine is one of the cons.

  Kayla rolls her eyes, but wordlessly slides in.

  I smirk.

  Yup. Irresistible.

  I join her inside the car and start driving.

  Kayla folds one leg over the other. She shifts to the left. Unfolds the leg. Manicured fingers tap against her thighs. It’s covered by the dress today, but I remember those thighs.

  How soft they’d looked.

  How much I’d wanted them wrapped around my waist.

  She clears her throat.

  I whip my gaze back to the freeway. “Enjoy the wedding?”

  “It was beautiful.”

  “I agree.”

  “Do you? It didn’t seem like you were paying much attention.”

  “I was busy staring at you,” I admit freely. “But I can multi-task.”

  Her cheeks go bright red under that light brown skin.

  Silence fills the car.

  One mile.

  Two.

  She squirms. “Look, about that night…”

  “We connected.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “I mean…” She tilts her head. “That’s not the point.”

  “Then?”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “And what am I thinking?”

  “I’m not the kind of woman who… goes home with a stranger. That’s not something… I don’t usually… you know.”

  “Ah.” I bob my head. “I’m your first.”

  Another blush.

  It’s adorable.

  Makes me want to tease her more.

  Makes me want to touch her.

  Caress her skin. Her thighs.

  See that color rise in her cheeks when I peel away everything under that dress—

  “You are,” she says.

  Crap.

  I’ve been hanging around Teale too much.

  He’s gone and corrupted me.

  A finger rises to push my glasses up, but I realize I’m wearing contacts.

  “What I’m trying to say is that entire…” She waves her hand in my general direction, “thing was a lapse in judgment and I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention it in front of the others or pretend there’s something going on between us.”

  My gaze moves to the windshield. I watch the buildings get sparser and sparser. The ocean floods the horizon, burning orange above rippling silver waves. Beautiful. “Sorry. Can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  For one, she doesn’t believe that line herself. The tension between us won’t go away just because she wants it to and that’s fairly obvious.

  And two… “Because I’m your first.”

  “Oh my gosh. You are not.”

  “You’re denying it?”

  “We didn’t actually do anything.”

  “Yeah, but you wanted to.”

  Her lips mash together.

  Not enough to hide the plumpness of her mouth, but I get the hint.

  She won’t admit to that one out loud.

  And definitely not in front of me.

  I flick the indicator. Check both lanes. Decide to cut her some slack. “Fine. If it’s so important to you, we’ll pretend today’s the first time we’ve met.”

  We can try, but it won’t change reality.

  Even if I don’t mention the bar again, that tension will still be there. Between us.

  A hot, unspoken secret.

  Kayla rubs the bridge of her nose. “It would’ve been fine if we’d never met again.”

  “But we did.”

  “We did.”

  “So… maybe it’s a sign?”

  “I seriously doubt that.”

  “I hate leaving things unfinished.”

  Her gaze shifts to my pants. Then my waist. My chest.

  Her eyes widen. “What are you saying?”

  “You know what I’m saying.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “I’m snapping my fingers.”

  Her plump mouth falls slightly open. I can’t tell if it’s out of shock or amusement.

  I’m stepping over the line.

  I know that.

  I’m wavering on the edge of becoming a jerk.

  But she makes me want to push.

  I want to know her.

  I want to have her.

  Under me.

  In front of me.

  Every beautiful curve quivering beneath my hands.

  Every inch of her milky-brown skin pressed up against mine.

  Feeling off-kilter, I reach forward. “Should I put on the radio?”

  Kayla doesn’t reply.

  I’m starting to sweat.

  I put the radio on and turn the air conditioner higher.

  It’s set to the local jazz station.

  An oldie.

  The singer croons about making love all night long.

  I pull at my collar.

  Move to change the channel.

  Her hand collides with my mine.

  Brown over white.

  “Leave it on,” she whispers. Our eyes meet. Hers are glistening.

  I pull back.

  Clear my throat.

  Focus on the road as I search for the sign that indicates where I should turn in.

  We’re almost there.

  “I’ll consider your offer,” Kayla says softly.

  My eyes flit to hers.

  She’s sitting there, staring at me. Like she’s trying to figure me out. Like she wants me to snap my fingers again so she can tear her panties off.

  Or slap me.

  My heart beats hard in my chest.

  “If,” she arches both eyebrows, “you tell me… who’s Ariya.”

  Nine

  Kayla

  She’s his sister.

  “You! You on the end!” The photographer jabs a bony finger in my direction.

  “Me?”

  “Yes. Go closer.”

  My gaze shifts to Brendon.

  His eyes are on me. He raises an eyebrow. Tilts his head.

  The smirk is there, simmering under all that false concern.

  I edge closer to him.

  Feel a crazy mix of desire and embarrassment burn my chest.

  Ariya is his sister.

  “More!” The photo
grapher yells.

  Zania and Teale lean over to spy on me. They’re probably wondering what the hold up is. Why I’m suddenly allergic to being so close to Brendon when I walked down the aisle with him an hour ago.

  I…

  This doesn’t make sense to me either.

  “Perfect!” The photographer throws up an ‘okay’ sign. Rushes to the camera waiting on a tripod and grabs it. “Hold still!”

  Ariya is Brendon’s sister.

  My mind runs around and around that fact.

  “Change positions!” The photographer calls.

  Teale makes a joke.

  It’s probably dirty.

  Zania’s the only one who laughs.

  Brendon shuffles forward so more of us is touching. His hand grazes my arm. His chest grazes my shoulder. His thigh is against mine.

  My breath thickens.

  I hold myself steady, not wavering or trembling on the outside so the cameraman won’t have to scold me again.

  But inside?

  I’m wound tighter than the strings of a premium violin.

  He smells so good.

  Mercy. I’m losing my mind.

  Every molecule inside me begs: more Brendon.

  More of his touch.

  More of his presence.

  But that’s my body talking.

  My head—it’s a little concerned with the fact that I agreed to a one-night stand based on a lousy, superficial question.

  I close my eyes. Recall the way Brendon had grinned when he’d given me the answer. The moment those perfect lips started to stretch, I’d known I was screwed.

  “Ariya is my sister,” he’d said.

  Oh.

  That was all I could reply.

  All my brain could come up with after stressing over the mystery all week.

  He ran out because his sister was in trouble.

  I was sulking and judging and hating him when he was just being a good brother.

  Crap.

  The photographer holds up a thumb. “Now, men, put your arms around your ladies and smile.”

  Of course the newly married couple lap up that instruction.

  Chandra and Ollie—same thing.

  Cobie and her husband, Griffin (another set of Zania’s friends)—jump on the chance to get cozy.

  My heart pounds when Brendon wraps an arm around my waist.

  He tugs slightly.

  I stumble back. Flushed against his body.

  My pulse rockets.

  “Smile!” the photographer bawls.

  He’s probably talking to me.