by Nina Lane
“Let me take those off.” He stepped back and she pressed her hands to her stomach. Harsh breaths and heavy sighs filled the room, then she laughed. He joined her, because seriously… “I have to warn you, when I take these off, there’s going to be a moment when you see me in black dress socks pulled up nearly to my knees. It’s not my finest look, so if you want to close your eyes, I understand.”
“I don’t want to miss a second of this,” she whispered, her gaze glued to his face.
Yeah. He knew the feeling. He could still feel her juices on his fingers and—fuck it. He lifted his hand and slid those two fingers into his mouth, tasting her tangy sweetness. Gillian’s lips parted, and he wanted to give her a taste, too. Damn it, he needed to lose his pants.
“Fuck,” he bit out with a strangled cry, and she laughed again as he hopped around in a stupid circle.
“You’re my first debauching closet tour guide.”
He jerked his eyes up to her face.
“Just saying. I don’t have any other frame of reference, but I think you’re doing a bang up job.”
“Bang up job.” He kicked his pants aside and shoved off his socks, because there was no way he could maintain any cool factor while wearing them. That left him in his shirt, tie, and boxer briefs. Marginally better than with the socks, anyway.
“Key word being bang.” She giggled as he fit himself between her spread legs again, hiking her dress high up on her waist. She sighed as he found her wet and ready again, and then her fingers were at his waist and inside his boxers.
Cool fingers wrapped around his cock, the first hand low, nestled right above his balls. She squeezed hard enough to make the blood pump harder and he jerked roughly against her, showing her he liked it. Then her other hand joined in, stroking softly over his sensitive and suspiciously wet head. Great. He was already leaking pre-come. And the combination of hard and soft was a magically good one that made his legs shake and his head go fuzzy.
Why the fuck was Arizona so fucking far away?
“Come here,” he muttered, which didn’t make any sense because she was pressed against the wall. If he wanted them closer, he needed to lean in. Or maybe he meant that she should leave the sunny dry heat of the desert and visit his debauching closet more often. Jesus, he had no clue. He just needed her to come on his hand and get him off and then promise they’d do it again later.
He’d never looked forward to a wedding quite as much—and didn’t care if that made him a turnabout hypocrite.
“You come here,” she whispered, tangling their hands together as she stroked him closer and closer to the apex of her curvy, sweet thighs.
The danger zone, because there was nowhere he’d rather come right now.
“I don’t have a condom.” He was breathing hard and fast now, and his hips moved of their own volition, surging into her sure, firm hand. God. Fucking her would be sweet. But this was good. Twisting his hand, he added another finger as he slid back inside her tight, warm heat. “I want you to come on my hand. You’re gonna be so pretty when you come. Fuck, you’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever met, Gillian. Tell me you’re gonna do it. Tell me you’re close.”
“So close.” She arched against him, her lips brushing his neck. “You can come on me. I have another dress I can change into.”
He huffed a weak laugh. Jesus, this was…fuck. It should be embarrassing or awkward, but it was just hot. Her mouth opened against his skin, her tongue tasting him there, and he shook as the swipe sent sparks skittering through his body.
“Suck harder,” he groaned, and she did exactly as he asked, marking his neck as he exploded against her hip, marking her in an even more primal way. She cried out as he shoved against her, sliding his erection through the wet mess he’d just made, and at the same time pressing his body weight against his hand that was still pistoning in and out of her body. The tremor started around his finger tips, the spasming getting stronger as her entire body was overtaken by the orgasm.
He stroked her through it, stretching out her pleasure, until she went limp in his arms. Then he gathered her close and kissed her one last time, savouring the taste of her lips, now devoid of all gloss and even more perfect for it.
“That was…” He braced his forearm against the wall and gave her what he knew was a sloppy grin. He couldn’t help it. “That was amazing.”
She returned the smile, her entire face lit up with unadulterated pleasure. “It really, really was.” She pressed up on her toes and brushed her lips against his. “Thank you. That made a rough weekend truly special.”
He knew the feeling. “We should have a dance later.”
Her eyes clouded over. “I don’t know.”
Sam’s pulse picked up, and he told it to settle down. “Just a dance. I can contain myself in front of people. Nobody has to know what we did in here.”
She nodded. “Right. Sure, maybe we could have a dance.”
He stepped back and helped her straighten her dress, painfully aware that she’d be going back to the inn to scrub off the evidence of what they’d just done. He wanted to press his hand to her hip, where he’d spilled his release, and say something deep and meaningful.
But there wasn’t anything to say.
Maybe they could have a dance.
Maybe.
But not bloody likely.
— SEVEN —
Some girls went to their wedding in horse-drawn carriages. Others in limos. Mari had always pictured that she’d drive with her dad, though, and that’s pretty close to how it ended up.
Her dad and two beefy security guards. If she didn’t look in the front seat of the hired SUV they were being driven in, she could pretend this was exactly as she’d imagined as a little girl.
As they approached the winery, her father patted her hand. “Nervous?”
She shook her head. “No…just…”
“This is your life now, sweetheart. And that’s okay. It’s only different on the outside, ya know?”
A long, slow sigh slipped out. She gripped her bouquet of blue hydrangeas tighter and took an equally slow, restorative inhale.
Her dad kept talking like they were actually having a conversation and she wasn’t halfway to emotional zombie land. “Do you feel like yourself on stage?”
“Of course,” she whispered.
“Sam doesn’t get under your skin then, right?”
She jerked her head away from the window and stared. “You know he’s upset?”
“Sweetie, Sam’s been upset since his father walked out when he was six. And there’s nothing I can do to make that hurt go away. No amount of love fixes that kind of wound. And you gotta know I love him with my whole heart. And so does your mother. But if we can’t fix it, you probably can’t either.”
“We had a fight earlier.”
“Something else that you’ve been doing since you were kids. You always stole his Lego and he’d lose his mind.”
“I remember.” She half-laughed, half-hiccup cried as she dug into the secret pocket built into her skirt for a tissue.
Her dad waited for her to dab her eyes before continuing, although that was silly because apparently his plan was to rip her heart out. “What you don’t remember is that he’d crawl into your toddler bed most nights after you fell asleep and hold you like you were his teddy bear. Like you were the most important thing in his entire world.”
Seriously, why had she even bothered hiring a makeup artist? “Dad!”
“Not the time?’” He handed her another tissue and she gave in to the tears.
“No, I think it probably is the time. Obviously we never did this before, so if it just took a wedding to unearth all these feelings, I guess that’s good.”
“You’re his baby sister, and you’re eclipsing all of us like a supernova. That’s scary.”
“That’s stupid. I’m not a super anything. I’m just a girl with a guitar.”
“Performing in front of thousands of people and marrying a celebrity.�
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“Chase is hardly—” She cut herself off. For Wardham, he was exactly that. Frankly, for Wardham, so was she, and it was time she stopped hiding from that fact. Dragging in a deep breath, she nodded. “Right. So what do I do?”
“Nothing. Just keep being amazing and give him space to catch up. He’s your biggest fan. Well, except for maybe me and your new husband. Maybe.”
If she nodded any more, her head would bobble right off.
“You ready?’’
With a start, she realized they were sitting outside the entrance to the winery. Stella, Audrey and Karen were standing outside the car with her mother and Chase’s mother, and at the door was Sam, with Gavin and Travis right behind him.
Staring out the window at her big brother, she held his gaze as she smiled and nodded. “Yep. Time for me to get married.”
— —
Sam clenched his jaw as he opened the door of the SUV, waving off the security dude who thought he had a right to help Sam’s sister as she arrived for her wedding. Since he’d returned to the entrance almost an hour earlier, washed up and head mostly on straight—except for the part that was still tangled up in Gillian’s skirt, but he could handle that. Compartmentalizing thoughts about soft, womanly skin was something he’d figured out fifteen years earlier.
Now his only concern was making right the terrible wrong he’d committed earlier against the only sister he’d ever have.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly but seriously as she took his hand. “You are a queen and this is a celebration worthy of your love.”
She snorted and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Wow. Purple prose apology much?”
“The sorry part was authentic.”
“I know.” She squeezed his hand, and he gave him a smile so regal that the queen comparison wasn’t that unrealistic. When had that happened? When had his little sister turned not only into a woman, but one with so much class it hurt to look at her? “Are you walking Mom down the aisle?”
He nodded.
“Then get to it.” She stuck her tongue out at him. Okay, regal might be a stretch. “I’ve got an amazing man to marry.”
— —
Chase stood, with Davis at his side, at the head of a wide red carpet running between two banks of white folding chairs on the back terrace. The lake shimmered behind them and a perfect late summer breeze was keeping the guests cool. Next to him was the United Church minister, and walking down the aisle was his youngest sister. Behind her waited his oldest sister, then Stella, and while he couldn’t see her, he knew Mari was waiting just inside.
A year ago, he’d stepped out back of Danny’s to take a phone call and walked back in to Mari dealing with a prick of an ex-boyfriend. Chase had wrapped himself around her, pretending to be her new boyfriend, and from that moment forward, she’d owned him, body, mind, and spirit. She was the sunshine that pulled him out of his bitter shell post-retirement, and her tireless work ethic drove him to be more than just a once-was sports star.
As the music changed and everyone stood up, Chase’s heart slammed against his rib cage. Weddings were…whatever. But his wedding? This was something unbelievably special. This moment. The rest of it could fade away, and that would be just fine. As long as he had that woman at the other end of the aisle beaming in his direction, her eyes only for him as his were for her, his life was complete.
She glided toward him on her father’s arm, a vision in floating white. Her dress was strapless and simple, and when she got close, he saw it was covered in lace. He raked his gaze over her, soaking up every last detail.
“Sir,” he said, dragging his attention to Mark Beadie for a minute. He held out his hand, and Mari’s father took it. “Thank you.”
“She likes to pretend she doesn’t need anyone to take care of her,” Mark said gruffly. “She’s wrong. Only about that. Nothing else.”
Chase grinned. He knew the truth of both of those points quite well. “Yes, sir.”
They shook on it, and then her hands were in his, and they were squaring off between their guests and the minister, but the dull roar in Chase’s ears meant he missed most of the short address to the assembled well-wishers by the minister and only vaguely registered Carrie Nixon get up and do a reading. Thank God they hired a videographer. He’d have to watch that before his sister could grill him on what his favourite parts were. It would be like watching game tape all over again.
He’d learn the details later. He was pretty sure they were perfect.
She was definitely perfect.
“You look so handsome,” she whispered as Davis handed the rings to the minster.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?” he asked quietly.
“Like five times since the ceremony started.” If her smile got any bigger, he might just die from happiness.
“Good.”
They’d gone with pretty standard vows, the same ones his sister had used. All he had to do was repeat after the minister, but he couldn’t help but change up the first line a bit.
“My beautiful Mari…” Yeah. That look. So worth every bit of the wedding extravagance for that look as he promised himself to her forever.
“Mari, with all that I am, and all that I have, I vow my life to you.
I will be faithful and honest with you;
I will respect, trust, help and care for you;
And I will share my all with you, whatever may come.”
She laced her fingers through his and repeated the same vows back, with her own addition.
“My wonderful Chase. With all that I am, and all that I have, I vow my life to you.
I will be faithful and honest with you;
I will respect, trust, help and care for you;
And I will share my all with you, whatever may come.”
As she said the words that would bind them even tighter, she twisted her wrists, gently twining their arms as she swayed against him.
The minister made a joke about getting to the kiss before they were ready, but it was no laughing matter. Their life together had begun with a kiss—a scorching, soul-melting embrace Chase would remember until his dying day.
He had a lot to live up to, style-wise. And maybe only Mari would know, but since she was the only one that mattered, it still felt like a high standard to meet. And he was ready to not just meet it, but blow it out of the water.
The minister’s hand on his shoulder gently eased them apart from their almost kiss, and they exchanged rings so quickly it was probably embarrassing.
“It is now my honour and privilege to pronounce you husband and wife. Chase, you may finally kiss your bride.”
He already had her in his arms and her hands were in his hair. Her lips tasted like honey and her breath was hot and sweet. He never wanted to stop kissing her. Would never get enough of the thrill that her tongue gave him every time it slid against his. Of the eager little sounds she made as he deepened the embrace and licked his way inside her mouth, teasing and giving and promising everything under the sun.
He poured everything and then some into the kiss.
Being Mari’s husband was the play of a lifetime, and he was going to give it his all.
— —
“Can I have this dance?”
Audrey turned around slowly, then clapped her hands together when she saw who was asking. “Heath! You’re all dressed up in a suit!”
“Good occasion for it.”
“I didn’t realize you were here.” She nodded toward the dance floor and he moved them in that direction, his hand hovering over the small of her back. In her heels, she was just a few inches shorter than his six-foot-something. It would be nice to dance with a partner that was bigger than her after a series of uncles and smaller cousins that she led around the dance floor.
“I’m sitting at the back with a few other people from high school.” He paused a beat. “Nobody you’d remember, probably.”
“I—” What did that mean? “I’m sure I would.” She
frowned at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. “Give me some names.”
“Nope.” He slid her a grin before returning his focus to the band on stage. His hand was sure and warm in the small of her back, and he wasn’t doing anything fancy, but he knew how to steer her around the dance floor.
“Why not?”
“Because asking a girl to dance is hard enough. Getting through said dance without an inquisition makes the next dance request that much easier.” His lips quirked like he was fighting back a smile.
Audrey tilted her head to the side. “Who else do you want to dance with?”
Now she had his attention. “Pardon?”
“You said, ‘it makes asking the next girl that much easier.’” She grinned. “Who else do you want to dance with? Can I help?”
Another frown marred his not-so-baby face, deepening the line between his eyebrows.
“Okay, it’s none of my business.” She patted him on the shoulder. “You’re a decent dancer. I wouldn’t worry about anyone turning you down.”
He huffed a laugh. “You’d be surprised.”
“Well, I’m a woman, and I’m telling you…you’ve grown up, Heath. You’re definitely datable now.” Her hand was still curved around the broad bunch of his shoulder muscle. She squeezed. “If I can play wingman, just let me know. Davis can attest to my skills in getting digits.”
He slowed to a stop in the centre of the dance floor. “Digits.”
“Phone numbers?”
“Yeah, I know—Jesus, Audrey, just how much of a geek do you think I am?”
“I don’t think you’re a geek.” Well, maybe she did, but she’d never say that. She frowned at him as he started leading her again, his hand harder on her hip now. Grumpier. Jeez Louise, women might be more obviously emotional, but men and their grumpy funks took top prize for draining behaviour. “This is what you meant when you said you just wanted to dance, no talking, right?”
His hand relaxed on her hip and he turned his head. His eyes were warmer than she expected, glittering hazel pools that any girl would fall right into. He was crazy if he didn’t get that he was totally cute now. But she wasn’t going to say that again, because it didn’t go over well. He licked his lips and nodded. “Just dancing seems like a good first step.”
