Going All the Way (Kiss the Bride #1)

by Cynthia Cooke

  Yes. She leaned toward him and met him halfway. His lips touched hers. Gently. Softly. Then harder. His tongue slipped into her mouth, lighting her on fire. It wasn’t as if she’d never been kissed. She’d been married, for chrissakes, but this could have been the first time from the way her body was responding. And she didn’t want to stop it.

  Damn.

  He broke the kiss, and slid his lips to her ear. “You taste good.”

  She grinned. “I don’t usually kiss men I’ve just met on the dance floor.”

  “Why me?” he asked. “Is it because we’re being watched like hawks?”

  She followed his gaze and noticed the father of the bride staring at them. “You don’t think he bought your story?”

  “Maybe. But the fact that he’s talking to one of the guys I came here with is a good indication that jig might be up.”

  “Oh no.” She looked over at Phoebe and Naomi, who had their heads together over the wedding cake.

  “We can go somewhere without a crowd,” he mumbled against her skin. “Without so many watchful eyes.”

  “Where did you have in mind?” she clung tighter to his shoulders and he slowly danced her toward the edge of the floor. The father of the bride was still watching them, and then he was moving toward them. “Oh, no.”

  Ryan slid his hand lightly down her arm, each sensation magnified as his fingers ignited her skin. Her hand was in his. He was pulling. “Let’s go.”

  They darted through the dancing couples, into a corridor and ducked down a dark hallway to avoid a waiter carrying another tray of champagne. She flattened herself against a stucco wall, breathing hard and giggling. “I think we lost him.”

  And then he was standing in front of her, leaning against her, the palms of his hands against the wall on either side of her head. He leaned toward her. “Are you sure?” He kissed her lips. She coiled her hands around his neck and pulled him closer. Right or wrong, her body wanted this man. She wanted this man. As she shifted against the wall, she felt a wooden door, a knob. She pulled open the door, and a delicious thought entered her mind.

  “Come on.”

  The next thing she knew, she was in a supply closet making out with this man like she was seventeen all over again. The excitement of the forbidden coursed through her. She bumped into a mop propped up in a rolling bucket in the corner and caught the scent of artificial lemon floor cleaner. She wrinkled her nose, but at the moment she didn’t care.

  How could she? Urgency was nipping at her insides and making her squirm. She wanted him like she hadn’t wanted anyone in a very long time. The fact that she was acting irresponsibly and foolish just added to the excitement. He was a stranger. She had no idea who he was, all she knew was the way he was kissing her set her blood racing and her heart thumping in a way that could have been frightening, if she wasn’t tingling in all the right places. She wanted him inside her. She wanted him to make her moan. God, what was wrong with her?

  What was wrong was it had been too long since she’d felt a man’s touch. Since she’d done anything other than work. She wasn’t a machine. She was a hot-blooded, horny woman. And there was nothing wrong with that. Except that she didn’t know this guy. Knew nothing about him. He looked like a rebel and a businessman all rolled up into one, just the kind she found irresistible. And his eyes—grey blue and constantly changing, just like the San Francisco sky—captivated her. But she was in a closet. At a wedding!

  He kissed her again and right then she couldn’t care less where she was.

  Lord, he could kiss. She felt a purr deep in her throat as she clung to his wide shoulders. He was gorgeous, and damn if she didn’t want to get naked with him, perfect stranger and all. The hormone-fueled burn moving up her core was exquisite. His hands, large and sure, touched her in all the right places. Suddenly the closet was too small, the space too hot. Music thumped through the walls, thankfully loud enough to cover any noises they might make, and she had a feeling she was going to make a lot.

  She pulled off her shirt, then hiked up her skirt and pressed against his leg. Chemistry. She’d heard about its effects before, but had never quite believed it, had never felt it herself—chemicals that could turn rational women into nymphomaniacs, at least where some men were concerned. Where Stu had been concerned? Maybe, once upon a time. Long ago and long forgotten. But where this man was concerned? Oh yeah. She had to have him. To feel him and taste him, everywhere.

  His hands, gentle and sure, went straight to her breasts. He unhooked her bra and it dropped to the floor. Her nipples, hard and erect, were aching to be touched. He circled them with his thumbs, and she had to bite back a moan. And bless him, he touched them like he couldn’t get enough of her, pinching and rolling and tweaking. Fire shot an arrow of heat straight through her. She groaned in his mouth, and swept her hands along his buff pecs, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt until she had them all undone and could get his shirt off. Yes!

  She broke from his kiss and ran her lips over his collarbone, kissing him and moving her mouth to his nipples, giving him the same pleasure he had given her. He groaned loudly. She felt his erection bulging through his pants and pressed against it, rubbing. His heavy breathing was a rhythm she could dance to. It felt nice to be wanted. To feel like they were racing in beat with the music pounding through the walls.

  “I want you so bad,” he said, and his words were an aphrodisiac to her long-neglected senses.

  Then take me, she wanted to say, but instead she showed him by undoing the button on his pants. She cupped him in her palm, tightening her fingers around his length and moving slowly and methodically. He moved his hand down her backside and squeezed, pulling her closer. She slid her hand faster up and down the shaft. She wanted him inside her. Wanted it like she hadn’t wanted anything in a really long time.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, unable to catch his breath.

  Seriously? ”Yes,” she breathed, and then he was kissing her again, his nimble fingers pushing inside her.

  “I have to have you,” he whispered. “Now.”

  “Yes.” Right now. She couldn’t remember the last time she wanted anyone or anything this badly. “Condom?” She hoped he had one, because she sure the hell didn’t. She had condoms at home, in her nightstand, ready for when she would invite a man to her home after five or six dates. For when she wanted to have grown-up, responsible sex. She never had stranger-sex in a closet.

  Never.

  Except now.

  But that wasn’t who she was.

  Not how she rolled.

  “Please tell me you have a condom,” she begged.

  He froze.

  “You don’t?” Disappointment like a bucket filled with ice-filled water crashed over her.

  “No.” He pulled back. “Wait a minute. I know someone. I’ll run and get one.”

  “You’re going to tell your friend?” She thought of telling hers and her face burned.

  “Yes.”

  “But we’re in a closet. Like a couple of teenagers and I… I don’t even know your name.”

  “Ryan,” he said, as the moment was quickly disappearing. “Remember?”

  “Right. Yes.” He’d told her.

  “I’ll look in the men’s bathroom. They probably have one of those machines on the wall.” He pulled up his pants. Searched for his shirt and in his haste pulled it on inside out. He ripped it off, turned it around, pulled it back on again, and quickly did up the buttons. He leaned forward and kissed her, his lips still scorching.

  “I’ll be right back,” he promised with as much emotion as if he were going off to war, going to face the leader of hell himself, going to brave the worst storm imaginable, just to bring her back a condom. “Wait here.”

  She nodded dumbly and watched him crack open the closet door and sneak out. She waited in the dark alone, moment after long moment—her breathing slowing, her temperature cooling. She looked at the mop still standing in the corner, mocking her. What was she doing? H
ad she lost her ever-loving mind? She was standing practically naked in a custodian’s closet. Her body was still tingling everywhere, but the frustrated anticipation was quickly dying, the hot flames turning to cold embers. She didn’t have stranger-sex in practically public places. No matter how much she wanted it. No matter how attractive the guy was. This was crazy! Stupid!

  She took a deep breath and pulled her control back around her, along with her clothes and what was left of her dignity. She slipped out of the closet, out of the banquet hall, and back to her car, feeling guilty and embarrassed.

  Halfway home, her phone rang. “Hello,” she answered, her voice husky with mortification as images of what she’d almost done, what she must have looked like sneaking out of the Regency Hotel, played over and over in her mind.

  “Carrie? Where are you?” Phoebe demanded.

  Carrie forced a happy lilt to her voice. “I’m sorry, I suddenly didn’t feel well. I went out to my car until it wore off, but it didn’t. Instead of walking back, I decided to drive home.”

  “Tell me you didn’t get sick. You’re not driving drunk, are you?”

  “No, of course not. Please tell Naomi why I had to leave and that I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to her.” And she was sorry, especially for leaving Ryan, though she truly hoped she’d never have to face him again. What must he think of her? But most of all, she definitely didn’t want to face the chemistry that had sparked between them. It was hot and unmanageable, and not something she wanted to chance again. She’d already been there once.

  Bliss. She had come back to San Francisco to find it and to get her life together. Not to lose her head over the first handsome face she saw. No matter how much fun it was. No matter how badly she wanted to lose herself in him and just forget what a mess she’d made of things. She could get her shit together and figure out who she was and what she wanted. And she would.

  Alone.

  Chapter Two

  It was after seven with dusk just pinking the sky when Ryan finally pulled into his driveway, a large pizza from Anthony’s on the passenger’s seat. His sister, Celeste, would be here in about eight minutes, bringing her massive Irish setter for him to dog-sit for a few days. Her boyfriend, Renaldo, had injured his throwing arm. He needed her, and she couldn’t fly the dog out with her to go see him. Besides, Ryan loved that goofy red mutt; plus pizza always cheered his sister up. He dropped the pizza on the table, pulled out a couple of paper plates, and grabbed the beers out of the fridge when she walked through the door, lugging a bag of dog food and a large dog bed. Riley was right on her heels.

  “Hey, Buddy,” Ryan said, dropping down to pat the dog on the head.

  “I really appreciate this. I hate to leave him. You know I do, but Renaldo is such a mess, and he needs me.” His sister, blonde and beautiful, was a successful model working the San Francisco fashion scene. Living the dream—and taking a path completely different than the one their father had outlined for them, leaving the job of helping their dad to him.

  “How’s his shoulder?” he asked. Renaldo Jamison, professional baseball player, had been dating his sister for a little more than a year. He was the first guy she had gone head-over-heels for, and Ryan was glad to see it happen. She deserved that even if those weren’t the kind of chains he wanted for himself.

  “Better, but he still has a lot of physical therapy ahead of him. He’s confident he’ll be ready when the season starts.”

  Ryan handed her a beer. “He’s a fighter, he’ll make it work. He shouldn’t need you for too long.” He watched Riley, who had tracked the pizza scent to the table. The Irish setter sure seemed a lot bigger here in his small place then he did in Celeste’s. His snuffling muzzle reached the top of the table. “Like you said, just a few days. I think Riley and I can handle that.”

  Celeste was being suspiciously quiet. He looked up at her. “Celeste?”

  Her eyes grew misty. “I just don’t know how long I’ll be. You know how much I hate to leave him behind, but I can’t take him with me. Renaldo is living in a hotel. A nice hotel that doesn’t allow hundred-pound dogs.”

  “But—you mean it might be longer?”

  She didn’t say anything, just looked up at him with those enormous eyes.

  He sucked in a deep breath and then blew it out. “Dad is pressuring me to wrap up this account so I can take over the company. I have to admit, this one is a bitch. I’m having troubles and trust me, it’s a lot to handle.”

  “You’ll be fine. I believe in you, and so does Dad or he wouldn’t be pushing so hard for you to take over the reins.” She picked up a slice of pizza, picked off the sausage, and threw it to Riley.

  But that was just it; he wasn’t sure he wanted the reins. Ryan opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t. It was no use.

  “Besides, Riley’s easy. Aren’t you, sweetie?” She ruffled the dog’s big head and bent so he could lick her face. He looked up at her with adoration, and she turned back to Ryan. “You can handle him just like you handle everything else. With ease. Not only that, but you have a great yard. This place is perfect for him, and the dog park is practically across the street.” She looked around the room. “And considering you’re still living out of boxes, it’s not like he can mess up anything.”

  Ryan stepped behind her and picked up a beer, twisting off the cap. “No reason to unpack and settle in when I’ll just be moving out again soon anyway.”

  “I don’t know how you can live like this. Riley will be good for you.”

  He guzzled down half the beer. He needed a moment to take a breath. To think. He’d never owned a dog before, and now it looked like he had one. Indefinitely. No, it couldn’t last that long. And he’d do anything for his sister, just as she would for him.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she said to the dog. “I love you, big guy. You’re the best dog in the world. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “How long do you think you’ll be gone? Really?” Ryan asked. This couldn’t be happening. He didn’t do pets. Hell, he didn’t do anything that required a long-term commitment. He was a short-term kind of guy, in work, in play, and definitely in his home life.

  “Only as long as it takes Renaldo to heal.”

  Suddenly a few days was beginning to look like a few months. But she had always been there for him, done so much for him that he couldn’t say no. Could he? “I work long hours,” he said, grasping at straws. “It’s not fair to leave Riley here all alone.”

  “That’s just it. Work is your entire life. Don’t you think it’s time you settled down? Stopped moving around so much? Maybe found some friends, or even a girlfriend?”

  The woman from the wedding flashed into his mind. Now there was a woman he wouldn’t mind spending more time with. Desire curled inside him as he remembered the way she’d kissed and touched him. But she’d left, running out on him before he even got her name. And he couldn’t call the groom because she hadn’t been on the guest list. Chances were, he’d never see her again. Which he supposed was for the best considering how deeply she’d gotten under his skin. He didn’t have the time for, nor did he need, a complication right now. He took another swig of his beer.

  “Ryan?”

  “What?”

  She stared at him directly, her gaze holding his. “It’s been three years since Marissa left.”

  He stiffened, the old ache of her abandonment still smarting. “Point?”

  “It’s time you moved on.”

  “I have moved on, trust me. I haven’t given Marissa a thought in years. I’ve been busy, and the truth is Marissa left me because I was never home. It wasn’t fair to her.” He shouldn’t have been surprised, because hadn’t his mother left them for the very same reason? “And it won’t be good for Riley.”

  “Posh. You can’t always put work first. Work won’t keep you warm at night. You need to relax, get out once in a while.”

  “I do get out. In fact, I went to a wedding the other night.”

 
“A coworker’s wedding,” she said dryly.

  “What’s your point? I had fun.” A lot of fun. Long, lush curls, big beautiful brown eyes, head thrown back in a moan. Oh, yeah. She was a hard one to forget. But Celeste didn’t need to know about that.

  “A coworker you barely know. You’re a consultant hired to come in and offer temporary help to companies in need. That’s hardly a life for making long-term connections.”

  Annoyance tightened his chest. “I’m happy with my life the way it is.”

  “No, you’re not. You just think you are. You’re lonely, which is why you need Riley.” She dropped down and gave Riley a big hug and kiss. “I’m going to miss you, boy. You take care of my big brother. Get him outside once in a while.”

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked, because he wasn’t. What did he know about dogs? But brothers were supposed to take care of their sisters. Of course he’d do it. He’d do anything for her.

  She sighed. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a huge thing to ask but I—” She sniffed, and it took him a minute to realize she was holding back tears. “Ryan, if you can’t take him, I’ll have to give him up, and I’ve had him since he was a puppy. He wouldn’t understand, and I’d miss him so much—”

  He stepped over and squeezed her shoulder. “Hey, hey, of course I’ll do it. I’ll figure something out. You know I will.”

  “Oh, thank you.” She stood up and hugged him. “I love you. Now Riley expects breakfast at eight and dinner at six. I know you’re not good with time, so set your alarm.”

  “Can’t I just fill a huge bowl and leave it out all day?”

  She gave him a look that said exactly what she thought of that idea. “He’d eat himself sick. You can do this, Ryan. Take care of yourself and my baby.”

  He sighed and hugged her back. “Tell Renaldo I hope that arm heals soon.”

  “I will. It better, baseball is his life.”

  Ryan squeezed her tight. “You should be his life.”

  She grinned. “I’m working on it. Thanks for the pizza! Can I take some for the road?”