by Eden Summers
“Oh, nothing.” Alana grinned. “We can talk about it later. Like you said, we have a busy week ahead, and I need to get to sleep.”
Mitch stared out the tiny jet window, massaging his forehead with the tips of his fingers. Alana’s tension had transferred to him during the night, and he didn’t enjoy the sensation. Tomorrow he was getting married, and he had no idea what the fuck had to be done to achieve that. Why the hell had he offered to take over Alana’s responsibilities?
Well, he knew why, he’d been intoxicated and hated seeing his beautiful bride anxious to the point of nausea. But how would having him in the hot seat make things better?
Fucking idiot.
As soon as the plane landed they would check-in to the Waldorf Astoria, and he would sit down with the wedding planner to sort this shit out. The more duties he could palm off to her, the better. Like he explained to Alana last night, only their happiness mattered. He just had to keep reminding himself of that.
“You look nervous,” Leah said, looming over his shoulder.
“I am nervous,” he muttered.
At least, Alana was happy. Since he agreed to handle the last minute disasters, she’d relaxed, and had the first peaceful sleep he’d noticed in the last month. That in itself was a relief. He hadn’t realized she’d been close to walking out on the wedding. He was still worried she would leave him standing at the altar, so any problems that did arise would have to be kept between him and the wedding planner.
Once he arrived at the hotel, he would familiarize himself with the Starlight Roof room for the ceremony tomorrow afternoon, and the Grand Ballroom for the reception, and put the final tasks into motion. He’d vowed to take over, and he wouldn’t let Alana down…but he had every intention of relying heavily on the wedding planner.
A smile tilted Leah’s lips, one that was replaced by teeth biting into her lower lip as she sat down beside him.
“How’s your hood?”
She shot him a glare. “Alana told you?”
He smirked, enjoying the blush that tinted his band manager’s cheeks. “Yep. Still don’t understand why you did it, though. The challenges were for fun. Alana was getting the honeymoon she wanted whether you guys won or not.”
Leah groaned. “Tell me about it. All I can say is that champagne and green eyes are my undoing.”
Mitch chuckled. “The joys of inebriation. I think Mason and Sean are suffering from the same remorse this morning.” He glanced over his shoulder, finding both of them sulking at the back of the cabin. Sean’s face was covered in various shades of bruises, while Mason had a Band-Aid covering the area where his eyebrow should be.
“The stupidity of those two will never cease to amaze me. It’s my own idiocy that’s astonishing.”
“Can’t you remove the piercing and let it heal?”
“Yeah, but…”
They made eye contact and he noticed her blush hadn’t faded. “But?”
She shrugged. “I kinda like it.”
He nudged her with his elbow. “You dirty little slut.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Me a slut. The woman who hasn’t had sex in twelve months because I’m always too busy dealing with the crap you guys pull.”
“Ouch. Twelve months?”
She pointed an accusing finger at him. “Do not repeat that.”
He held up his hands. “Never. I promise. But Sean would be happy to help you out of the dry spell. All you have to do is ask.”
“You forget that I know where he’s been.” Leah scrunched her nose in disgust. “Well, I probably only know half of where that man has dipped his wick. Even that’s enough to turn me off.”
“Understandable. Are you back on speaking terms with Ryan yet?”
She shook her head and turned to focus out the window. “He won’t talk to me anymore.” She let out a deep breath, then glanced back to meet his gaze. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s civil. He’s still a gentleman, holding open doors and using his manners. He’ll answer band-related questions whenever I ask.” She shrugged. “But the friendship’s gone. He can barely look me in the eye.”
Ryan and Leah had been close. Because of the group dynamic, they all tended to pair up on tour—Mitch with Blake, Mason with Sean, and because Ryan had been the only married guy for so long, he normally hung out with Leah, while the rest of them seduced groupies. Their disagreement hadn’t just been a manager-client tiff, it was the breakup of a close friendship.
“He’ll get over it. Once his bruised ego has healed.”
“Yeah, I guess so….” She remained quiet for a moment then clapped her hands together as if breaking the spell. “Now, onto a slightly different subject, Alana said you were taking over the wedding plans.”
He groaned. “Don’t remind me.” The thought still made him break out in a cold sweat.
“Do you have any idea of what you’re doing?” she raised a brow, her aqua eyes bright and caring.
“No fucking clue. But I’ve got a plan. If the wedding goes to hell, I’ll ply Alana with alcohol until she passes out, then whisper how great the day was until she wakes up the next morning. Sound good?”
Leah shook her head with a chuckle. “Like I said, the stupidity of you guys will never cease to amaze me.”
Alana relaxed onto the portable massage table, trying to enjoy the peace that came along with her swanky hotel suite, and the in room spa treatment she’d ordered. The hands of her masseuse rubbed away reality. She breathed through the anxiety, ignoring the need to go in search of Mitchell and interrupt his meeting with Jan, their wedding planner, and concentrated on the strong, skilled hands on her back. And that frame of mind worked until the suite door closed in the distance, and Mitch’s footsteps came up beside her.
Letting go of the wedding responsibilities had been as daunting as doing it all herself. But she’d come to terms with a non-perfect wedding. It really didn’t matter that guests could be seated next to strangers, and the groomsmen looked like they were students at Clown College. No biggie. And having the threat of her mother doing any number of dramatic things wasn’t going to phase her either. Nope. The thought of her mom pulling out a pellet gun, or kicking a male guest in the nuts for saying hello to her was very far from her mind. Absent completely.
The final plans for the wedding must’ve gone well, though. She hadn’t expected Mitchell back from his meeting with Jan for hours.
“I’ll take it from here.”
Mitchell’s graveled tone gave her goose bumps. The warm touch of the masseuse left her skin, replaced with cooler, rougher, more familiar hands.
“No problem, Mr. Davies. I’ll come back for my things in a little while.”
Soft footfalls drifted into the distance, then the front door squeaked before a faint click when it closed. Each passing second made the tension coil in her belly. She needed to know if the final seating arrangements were in place. If the gifts for the wedding guests had been properly packaged. If the decorations at the reception and ceremony had arrived. The pressure built until she could no longer keep it in. “Is everything sorted for tomorrow?” she blurted, then held her breath, unsure what to expect.
“Everything is fine.” His thumbs travelled up either side of her spine, releasing the tension in her muscles. Those hands of his were talented in many ways. It almost made her forget her worries. Almost. “Jan has everything under control.”
So he had palmed everything off to their wedding planner. “Is that wise?” She couldn’t hide her nervousness. There was barely twenty-four hours until the ceremony started, and these things needed to be organized. “I know it’s her job, but we still had to slot a few last minute guests onto tables. I don’t want her sitting them in a random place with strangers.”
His hands travelled back down her spine, over her waist, then up her sides to brush the swell of her breasts. “I’m going to repeat that everything is under control,” he murmured against her ear, “And from now on I will ignore all wedding-related conversation
s. Let it go and enjoy yourself.”
She bit her lip and held in the questions poised on the tip of her tongue. Clearing her mind, she focused on his touch and the way his fingers made her nipples tingle into tight peaks against the warm leather table. “Mmm. That’s nice.”
“The next twenty-four hours without you is going to kill me.” His hands travelled lower, making her core clench as he pushed aside the small towel draped over her ass. Rough fingers gripped the waistband of her silk panties, pulling them down her legs, until she was naked.
“Spare a thought for the woman who has to deal with your soon-to-be mother-in-law.”
She heard the slurp of the oil bottle, then his hands were at her ankles, sliding higher to the inside of her thighs until he was poised at her entrance. “Yeah, I don’t envy you.”
He teased her with his thumb, gliding it over her pussy lips before retreating and running his hands back down to her ankles. He continued to torment her, repeating the movement over and over again until her sex dripped with arousal.
“Mitchell…” She clenched her thighs, trying to alleviate the throb settling between them.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“What are you doing?”
He teased her pussy again, this time spreading her lips to glide through her moisture. “I’m giving you a massage,” he purred.
Massage my ass. He was slowly killing her. She turned onto her back, resting her legs over either side of the table as she blinked her innocent eyes up at him. “How much would I have to pay to get a full service?”
He cleared his throat, his focus on the apex of her thighs. “I think we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement.” He palmed the erection tenting his pants and raised his gaze to her eyes. “After all, this will be my last chance to bed a beautiful woman while I’m single.”
She spread her legs wider and crooked a finger for him to join her. Without a word, he removed his shirt, shucked his pants, and climbed onto the slim table between her knees.
He eyed the limited space around her with a frown. “You might need to get on top, baby.”
“I can do that.” She sat up, slid off the table and waited for him to lie down. Returning the agonizing massage, and teasing him to the point of release would’ve been enjoyable, but she couldn’t wait. Instead, she climbed back onto the table, stabilizing herself on his chest while she straddled his waist.
He palmed his shaft, pressing the tip to her entrance. She closed her eyes, leisurely impaling his cock, savoring every inch. “Oh, god, yes.” She moaned, enjoying the way her muscles contracted around him.
Mitchell gripped her hips with one hand while she started to ride him in languorous strokes. “Fuck. You feel good.”
She continued to gyrate, increasing the pace, deepening the thrusts. Her clit rubbed against him with each undulation, sending tingling pulses throughout her body. Hitting climax wouldn’t take long. She’d denied herself enjoyment for weeks and had a lot of built-up pleasure to release. She could already feel it pooling low in her abdomen.
Mitchell’s hand rose to her breast, and she opened her eyes to his hazel stare. His nostrils flared, showing just how close he was to coming as she ground harder. “Come here,” he whispered.
She lowered, bringing them chest to chest. His hand moved from her hip, to the back of her head, applying pressure until their mouths were a breath apart. He kissed her hard, his tongue gliding between her lips in hungry need while her pussy continued to contract around him.
“I love you,” he murmured.
“I love you, too.”
He thrust into her, increasing the pace until the table began to squeak in protest. “I want to watch you come.”
He wouldn’t have to wait long. She was hovering on the precipice, about to glide over. He continued to meet her undulations, jerking his hips up every time she sank onto him. Their breathing increased, the heavy sounds of sex filling the air, the table creaking louder in disapproval.
Heat built, pleasure heightened, and then she was flying, figuratively, as her climax hit, taking over her body…and literally as the table fractured beneath them. They fell to the floor, Mitchell holding her tight as they landed hard. His hips paused for a second before he continued to rock into her. “Shit,” he moaned, pounding with force, coming undone as the final strokes of release assailed her.
Their bodies slowed, she opened her eyes, panting while she surveyed the damage. “I nominate you to explain this to the masseur.”
Mitchell’s chest vibrated beneath her. “I can picture it now. ‘The good news is we’re finished with your table. The bad news is we need to buy you a new one.”
She chuckled, leaning over to wrap her arms around him. Soon he would leave, and she would miss him more with every second. They promised not to talk to one another until they exchanged vows—a commitment she already despised, more so now that the last minute plans were on his shoulders.
“I can hear your thoughts,” he whispered into her hair. “And you’ve got nothing to worry about. Jan has it under control, I’ve double checked everything, and Leah is on standby in case of emergency.”
The thought of a wedding emergency made Alana’s skin prickle. She breathed in deep and let out a sigh. “I’m glad.” He deserved to know she was excited. And she was. A mix of adrenaline and fear. “All that matters to me now is that I end tomorrow as your wife.”
“You will, Allie. And I’ll be the envy of every man in the room.”
Mitch relaxed into the fancy restaurant chair and sipped his breakfast coffee. The last thing he needed was caffeine, even after the lousy night’s sleep. He’d ordered it to try and pass the time. It was mere hours now. He could probably count it in minutes, but he was too buzzed for that.
“You’re not stressing at all, are you?” Blake asked, then shoved a forkful of bacon into his mouth.
“What’s to stress about?” A smile widened his cheeks. The organization of the wedding was in the hands of a paid planner and hotel staff, and Alana’s anxiety had settled. All he had to do was wait for the big moment.
Blake shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought you’d be peaking out about reciting your vows.”
Fuck. Mitch focused over Blake’s shoulder, trying to remember the lines he’d memorized weeks ago. They’d totally skipped his mind. To love and cherish? Shit. That wasn’t one of them.
Blake chuckled. “I guess the deer-in-headlights look means you’ve reconsidered my question.”
“Shut the hell up.” I take you as you are – the woman who stole my heart, and promise to love you for the person you are now, and the one you will grow to be. “Ha ha ha, sucker.” Mitch gave Blake the bird. “I remembered.” Well, the start anyway.
“Good for you, buddy.” Blake smirked. “I just hope you don’t crumple under the pressure of a crowd.”
Asshole.
“Mitch!”
They both glanced up at the feminine call to see the wedding planner striding toward them. Her eyes were bright with practiced hospitality as she approached in a tailored skirt suit.
“I’m glad I found you,” Jan said with a smile. “I went to your suite. Obviously, you weren’t there.”
“Obviously,” he muttered, still annoyed at having the world’s biggest dickwad as his best man. “What’s up?”
“Nothing major. I just have a quick question.” She pulled up the vacant seat beside him and sat down. “The reception manager called this morning. He wanted to clarify that we hadn’t made an oversight on the guest list.”
“What oversight?” He ignored the tickle in his chest that warned of impending doom and waited patiently for her answer.
“A Mr. Bowen checked in yesterday afternoon but isn’t on the wedding list. I wanted to double-check that we haven’t missed him in the seating chart.”
“What?” He frowned in confusion. “Mr. & Mrs. Bowen are Allie’s grandparents. They were invited to the wedding and should be on the guest list. I remember seeing their na
mes on one of the tables yesterday.”
“Yes. Sorry.” She smiled in apology. “I mean, this is another Bowen. Chris is his name.”
Static rang in Mitch’s ears, and his heart began to pound at a painful rate. He pushed from his chair, itching for a fight. “What room’s he in?”
“He’s a wedding guest?” she asked, her gaze moving to Blake for confirmation.
“No. He’s not.” Mitch ground out. The fucking bastard was far from welcome at their wedding. “Tell me where he is.”
Jan’s smile faltered as she moved to her feet. “Mitch, I’m sorry, but because you aren’t paying for his room, I can’t give you that information. I only wanted to confirm if we’d left him off the wedding list.”
“No, we haven’t left him off the fuckin’ guest list,” he growled, stabbing his fingers through his hair. “He shouldn’t be here.”
Blake’s chair screeched across the floor, and he stood. “Don’t get worked up. We’ll sort it out. No sweat.”
“Give me the room number,” he repeated, and a tiny ounce of remorse sunk under his skin at the way Jan jerked back. She didn’t reply, just stared at him in shocked silence. He needed to chill. Big breath in. Let it out. He was calm. He was Zen. He wasn’t going to freak the fuck out in one of the most pretentious hotels in Manhattan.
“Let me put it this way, Jan,” he lowered his voice, not wanting any more unwanted attention from staff or guests. “If Alana finds out he’s here, she’ll flip. And I’m willing to do everything in my power to stop that from happening.” He leaned in close, his gaze almost a glare while he tried to convey his sincerity. “I don’t care if I have to knock on every motherfuckin’ door in this entire hotel. I will find him, and if I have to, I’ll throw him outta here myself. Because jeopardizing my future wife’s happiness is my breaking point.”
Jan’s eyes widened, but he wasn’t finished. “I’ve dealt with her anxiety for weeks. No, months. She’s worked hard. She’s poured her heart into today, and there’s no way I will let her father come in here and fuck that up for her.”
