Which was weird. We’d never even kissed.
Oh. Except last night when the guy had told him to kiss the bride.
But I couldn’t help my big mouth. “Seriously?”
That was dumb. He looked hurt then. “And what exactly is wrong with me? Would it really be such a bad thing to be married to me?”
“I didn’t mean it that way, Brian…” He started looking out the window then. Great job, Kyle. We were quiet for a few minutes until I said, “Brian, you’re a good guy. You would make an amazing husband. You’re sweet and funny and…really good looking, and I know you’d be a great dad.”
He turned his face back to me. “You really think so?”
“Yeah.” And so then I thought maybe that was all you could hope for in marriage—a close friend you cared deeply about, one who made you smile and laugh, one you trusted. “So are you saying you want to stay married?”
He shrugged and grinned. “Why the hell not?” I got ready to formulate an argument when he said, “Most people marry for love or lust, right? And how many of those marriages end in divorce?” I knew the answer was a lot, but he was on a roll. “So why not marry your best friend instead?”
I got ready to give him a knee-jerk answer, to tell him that was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard…except he was right. Deep down, yeah—I loved CJ, but the guy obviously didn’t care deeply me and didn’t want anything permanent, and here was a guy who loved me as a friend, had my back, and he and I were compatible beyond anything I’d ever experienced with anyone else. So why the hell not indeed? I stuck out my hand to shake his. “Okay. Deal.”
He chuckled.
And, while that was all well and good, I wasn’t ready to kiss him yet. The idea felt awkward and weird. He said, “So now that that’s settled, what say we order us up some breakfast?”
In less than half an hour, room service delivered a full spread, but my eyes were on the coffee. That was what I needed. I needed to fully wake up and embrace my new life. Brian turned on CNN—not my bag; TV never had been—and I tuned it out, trying to find a balanced sensation in the midst of the dizzy feeling.
After two cups of coffee and half a slice of toast, I said, “I need to shower.” Yeah, the bathroom was still all glass but he was in the living area and…he was my husband now, so I needed to get over the awkward feeling.
When I got to the bathroom, I decided to brush my teeth first. And, while I did, I looked at myself in the mirror. I tried to picture Brian and me together—in photos—because, if we’d married like normal people do, we would have been in a wedding gown and tux, complete with a bridal party. I just couldn’t stop thinking of him as my friend, and so I had to hope it would pass.
I finished with my teeth and knew I’d have to strip down at some point. Then I decided to grab some clothes to change into so I could hurry up and shower and then get out, towel off, and get dressed. The less I was naked, the better. Once I was used to being married, then I could traipse around naked.
Damned fancy hotel.
When I walked through the living room toward my suitcase, Brian said, “That was fast.”
I managed half a grin. “Just grabbing some clothes.” I noticed he was ignoring the TV in favor of his laptop that he’d opened up on the table.
Good. That would be a distraction while I showered.
So I headed back to the bathroom. The shower was a huge affair and, like the bathroom walls, encased in glass. I glanced over at the tub, deeper than any regular bathtub I’d ever used. If I’d been into baths, I would have used it. But I was going to be in and out.
I stepped in the shower and blasted hot water. It felt so good on my skin, in spite of the fact that I knew it was hotter than hell outside. It was cool indoors, and so the heat felt amazing. It didn’t take long for the glass to steam up inside the shower and I relaxed a little, feeling less self-conscious.
I massaged shampoo into my hair while my brain was preoccupied, still trying to wrap itself around the idea that I was now married.
As I rinsed out my hair and then ran conditioner through my locks, I tried my damnedest to avoid the one place my brain wanted to go, the only place it ever wanted to go…to the man whose image and name I’d been pushing out of my psyche for a while now.
Unsuccessfully.
But now I really had to do it. I might not have respected the sanctity of marriage—after all, I’d seen what my parents had done when I was at my most impressionable (that is, most likely to remember and duplicate behaviors)—but I did understand, deep down, that marriage was a commitment, a dedication to one person, and I also knew that thoughts could easily become actions. If I gave a certain person my every waking thought, then eventually I would act on those thoughts…and he didn’t deserve that, not after the way he’d treated me.
No, the man who’d talked me into going to the silly chapel on Las Vegas Boulevard was the one who deserved my mind’s attention, and I’d do my best to make sure that was where my thoughts stayed.
I heard something and opened my eyes. Speaking of, Brian was coming into the bathroom. Oh, shit. Maybe he had to use the restroom and couldn’t wait any longer. In spite of my plan to get in and get out, I’d been lingering under the hot water, consumed by my thoughts.
I was completely naked, and he was looking at me.
I saw him reach for his zipper, so he probably needed to use the restroom. I turned around and faced the stream of water to give him—and me—as much privacy as that open bathroom would afford. I still felt ridiculously awkward…which was maybe silly. Or not. I wasn’t ashamed of my body—I just didn’t show it off. Unlike Barbie doing a spread in a men’s magazine so they could drool (and do other things) over her pictures, I liked to stay a little private. It was easy enough to become sexualized, appreciated only for the way we looked, and I’d been on the road enough in my ripening years to know that—clothed or not—men liked our bodies, and it was easy enough for them to objectify us…and me. I didn’t need to give them another reason.
As soon as Brian got out of the bathroom, I decided, I was going to get dressed, and maybe then we could walk the Strip, this time in a state of mind where I could remember. I’d taken a couple of pictures in my haze the night before—that much I could recall—in particular, I remembered taking a video of the Bellagio fountains as we walked past, laughing and giggling like a kid.
“Mind if I join you?”
I felt my body stiffen. Holy shit. I blinked and took a deep breath before turning my head. I didn’t need Brian to see that all this shit was freaking me out more than it should have. When I looked at him, I said, “Sure.”
I avoided looking down.
And he knew it. “Turn around, Kyle. I want to see you.” I blinked again, sucking in a slow breath. I had to get it over with sometime—it wouldn’t get any less awkward if I avoided it. So I turned, still not checking him out—and, again, he knew. “You can look, Kyle.”
But first, his eyes. So sincere. So thoughtful. So sweet. This man…my best friend and now my husband. I tried to smile but it probably looked like the kind painted on a doll—tiny, wistful, hard to read, and not quite reaching my eyes…like a bird trapped in a cage.
Oh. I had to push that shit out of my fucking head right now.
So I allowed my eyes to drift down, just like Brian encouraged, but I didn’t want to be obvious so I checked him out from neck to toes and back up again. He was no dummy. He knew I was looking at his cock. He had nothing to be ashamed of in that department, even though he wasn’t the biggest I’d ever seen. And that was okay. In spite of all the hype, bigger didn’t always mean better. It was all in the performance.
And I was nowhere near fucking ready for that shit.
But, Jesus. The guy had a perfect body. He was super hot, and I knew (actually, had always understood) why he was a favorite lust of metal mavens. And, yet, I wasn’t aroused looking at him.
I was a bundle of nerves. When my eyes met his again, I grasped at what few wo
rds and distractions I had. “I need to finish rinsing out my hair.”
Uh, yeah, right. And I was going to rinse it out in the most awkward way possible. I turned back to face the stream of water—turning my back to Brian—so I could tilt my head up and let the water wash over my face and head.
Seconds later, I felt his hands on my back. He had the tiny bar of soap and he was sliding it over my skin. I had to admit that it felt nice.
And then there was a pause.
I felt his fingers touch my neck then, pulling my hair off my right shoulder and back, resting it all over my left shoulder, exposing my neck. In seconds, his lips were there. Okay…so if I kept my mind off the fact that it was Brian, a guy who was so firmly in my friend zone it wasn’t even funny, the kiss felt really nice. So I dropped my head to the left, making it easier for him, letting him know it was okay to keep going.
He did.
I felt his body get closer to me, but his lips were all that touched me at first. Soon, though, his hands were on my hips and then moved slowly around to my front. He was kissing my neck more and I considered kissing him back, but I just wasn’t ready. I knew if I let myself think too hard about the fact that it was my friend—and that I’d just fucking married him—that I’d lose all desire. What we were doing right then and there was an important first step in moving past that weird feeling, and I had to make it through, whatever it took.
So I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the sensations of what he was making my body feel.
He was good. Those strong hands of his journeyed up my abdomen until they reached the bottom of my breasts. He paused once more, almost as if assessing my comfort level, and I knew I had to give him a signal. In that shower, he couldn’t hear me sigh, but he could feel my ass pressing into his rock hard cock and he would know he could move full steam ahead if I reached over my head and thrust my fingers into his hair, the added benefit of which made my breasts even easier to access.
And Brian was a smart man. He read my signals easier than I could read a novel, and his kisses accelerated to open mouth and more aggressive, while his hands roamed up to their targets. As he cupped my breasts and squeezed them in his hands, I once more tried to clear my mind. It wasn’t his fault that his hands felt a lot like CJ’s, and it wasn’t his fault that the way his lips ravaged my neck reminded me of the way CJ’s mouth felt against my skin. It most definitely wasn’t his fault that I couldn’t get my ex out of my head.
Yes, the marriage most definitely made CJ my ex, and this was going to have to be my way of letting go of the past, of moving on.
One thing in my future’s favor was that, so far, Brian seemed to be an amazing lover. Not only was he amazing at reading my cues, he seemed to know exactly how and where to touch me and when for maximum effect. He seemed to innately know how to tease my nipple between his rough thumb and index finger in a way that would make my thighs clench, eager for what was to come next.
My thoughts continued to drift to CJ, though, and I finally couldn’t push them out. There was no way to do it once I was completely into what we were doing. I was consumed by desire and it was when I finally allowed my mind to grab hold of the memory of CJ that the strangeness was gone and I was able to give in to the sexual creature inside me. It was then that I turned my head and kissed Brian with desire that felt like it was from my youth—unbridled, untamed, desperate. And then he guided his cock inside me while drifting a hand down my torso until he slid a finger down my slit. Once he found that hard little nub, his cock and his finger drove me to the edge and then pushed me off, and I moaned in pleasure, my thighs and pussy clamping against him. Involuntarily, my hands balled up into fists, pulling his hair, but I knew he couldn’t even sense it as he completely lost himself inside me.
Chapter Nineteen
IT HAD BEEN a little disconcerting as we’d untwined ourselves from each other. Oh, yeah. That wasn’t CJ.
In spite of the fact that I’d been able to willingly—and, at last, easily—give myself to Brian, facing him and kissing him was still weird. I did, of course—what kind of fucking bitch would I have been to refuse to kiss him? And, God…he really was an amazing kisser, especially when I closed my eyes and tried to forget it was him. He performed the kind of tongue action that could make me wet fast, prep me for sex in seconds. Not many guys were that good, but goddamn…Brian Zimmer was. I should have considered myself a lucky girl.
In some ways, I did. Hell, I knew Brian was a catch. Just stupid me—I had to get over thinking of him as a friend. I had to accept him fully as my husband and be thrilled we were together. Any other woman would probably give up an arm to be with him.
With that thought in mind, I tried to feel a sense of gratitude and love for this gentle, sweet man, a guy who, over the course of merely half a year, had gotten to know me better than most people on the planet. It was so easy to kiss him…but it wasn’t easy pushing thoughts of you-know-who out of my head. And that was my biggest problem.
And he couldn’t stop being sweeter and sweeter. When we made our way out of the shower, he grabbed the big fluffy white towel and dried me off, patting my skin and squeezing the locks of my hair into the towel. “You probably want to wrap it up, huh?”
I grinned. He knew the drill—he had long hair too—but I suspected he wouldn’t walk around with his hair wrapped in a terrycloth turban.
Except, once he had dried off, he did too. We looked like twins—naked bodies, white towels piled on our heads.
It was too cool in our room then, especially when we stepped out of the steamy bathroom. The air conditioning kept us safe from the unrelenting heat outdoors but made me shivery when my skin was freshly damp. Without a word, Brian led me to the bed, because he sensed it, and we both crawled under the covers.
Before he pulled them up over our bodies, I took another glance at his. Damn, he really was a hot guy. His musculature was lean and mean, tight and toned from head to toe and tattooed on his upper half.
He was a rock god.
My rock god. I had to remember that.
I guessed then that it was time to talk. “So am I Mrs. Zimmer now?”
He had pulled me close so that my head was resting in the crook of his arm, my cheek touching his chest. “I guess. But you didn’t sign your name that way. You signed it Kyle S. Summers. ‘Member? They told you all that shit had to match your driver’s license.”
God, it was vague, but I kind of remembered. And whoosh—my thoughts flew to CJ again. What the fuck was he going to think when he found out I was married? Would he flip his shit? Part of me thought it would be nice if he did, because I suspected that he instead wouldn’t give a fuck. Aside from not being his warm port in Colorado, I didn’t think I meant much to him. Oh, sure, we were friends too—but Brian trumped him on that level too. Friend-wise, Brian was closer to me than anyone else on the planet.
But I still wasn’t ready for CJ to know.
Oh, shit. Or anyone.
And why was that? They’d find out eventually…so how the hell should we go about it? If it was a shock to me, I had to imagine how my friends and family would feel.
All these thoughts were in my head, but I was being a horrible communicator. Brian noticed and said, “Penny for your thoughts, Kyle.”
I had to put together some words, give him an idea of where my brain was. “This happened so fast. We should be careful about how we let everyone know.” Okay, my thoughts jumped straight back to CJ. What the fuck would he think about this? How would he feel knowing I was married now? Relieved? Angry? Upset? I had no way of knowing. Even if he were in the same room with me and I asked, there was no way I’d know. But I did know I wanted to talk with him first. I had no idea what I’d say or how I’d say it…but I should be the one to tell him. “You know…maybe let our friends know first and go from there.”
I felt him chuckle while his body stiffened. What the fuck did that mean? “Um, the cat’s kind of out of the bag.”
A shiver charged down my spine
and I pulled away from him so I could look in his eyes. “What do you mean, Brian?”
“Uh…before I joined you in the shower, I kinda sorta posted something on Facebook.”
I sat up, my head now spinning. “What the hell did you post?”
“It’s not a huge deal.” I was getting ready to jump out of bed to look at his computer when he said, “I shut it down. Hold on.” He reached around to the nightstand and grabbed his phone. He swiped at the screen several times while I waited impatiently. “Here.”
He handed me the phone and showed me that, about half an hour earlier, he’d changed his relationship status to Married. To his credit, he hadn’t said to whom…so things could still be salvaged. I breathed a sigh of relief—literally. “Oh, no big deal. We still—”
“Uh, no, Kyle. You need to scroll that shit.”
That feeling of dread rolled through my body again. I started scrolling. It might have been his “real” profile page, but he was still friends with hundreds of girls who’d deluded themselves into thinking that now that they were Facebook friends with Brian, they had a snowball’s chance in hell of attracting his attention. They were boohooing, weeping, bemoaning, and begging Brian to assure them it was just a joke—and a joke like that actually wouldn’t have been beyond him. But, of course, he’d continued the conversation. I still wasn’t seeing anything significant…that is, until about seventy or so comments down, I saw that Clay had made a comment. It was simple but significant. It’s not the friend you took to Vegas, is it?
Brian had responded with a devil smiley face emoticon but, to his credit, had neither confirmed nor denied it.
Clay replied, Holy shit. You little devil. And we called Devil devil. He’s gonna have to give up that title.
Still okay…but the replies after that were insane. Girls figured out quickly that it was me. I don’t know how—because I wasn’t tagged or mentioned by name, but several girls did name me, and then other people questioned it, and it had quickly gotten out of control. Brian was trying to look at his phone, but I sat up. I shot over to his profile, and sure as shit, there were several posts to his wall asking if it was true—that he and I had gotten married.
On the Rocks Page 12
