Conflict (The Wellingtons Book 3)

by Tessa Teevan

  And then, when she pretends to glare at me with flushed cheeks and desire in her eyes, I know—I just know—I still have a chance.

  “Commit it to memory, Shane. Because this moment is all you’ll ever have of me.”

  I step forward and brush my knuckles down the side of her cheek. “Keep lying to yourself, Alyssa. That way, it’ll taste so much sweeter when you finally let me back in.”

  Later that night, sleep evades me. As I lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling in the dark, I grow increasingly frustrated. Aunt Amelia, like a strict camp counselor, placed the men and women of the wedding party in separate wings of the Wellington mansion. They’re a family of five. Why the hell do they even need an estate? To this day, I’ve never cursed my family’s wealth. Tonight? I swear it all to hell.

  Fuck this. Dinner tonight was all the foreplay I needed to know there was no way I could spend a night under the same roof as Alyssa and not be with her. In any way she wanted.

  I push the covers off and slip out of my room. Hoping my stealth skills from sneaking out of my window as a horny teenage boy are still intact, I tiptoe down the hall, my heart hammering the closer I inch to the room Charlie may have not so coyly told me where Alyssa’s sleeping. Amusement twinkled in her eyes when she “let it slip.”

  That’s when I knew the truth. Knox Wellington’s wife is a saint. Hell, if I’d been born British and had the power, I’d knight the woman. Instead, I’ll settle for finding the most expensive bottle of wine I can for Christmas.

  “Where, pray tell, are you headed?”

  Caught like a deer in headlights, I turn with trepidation. But I let out an audible sigh of relief when I see Branson leaning against the wall, watching me with amusement, his arms folded.

  His hair looks ravaged, his clothes wrinkled, and for a guy about to marry for the second time in his life, his shoulders are surprisingly relaxed. A knowing grin crosses his lips, and when I realize he’s coming from the direction of the woman’s quarters, I struggle to hold in my laughter.

  “I imagine it’s from whence you just came.”

  “Whence? Really, Shane?” he asks, an eyebrow lifting. “Do you have a fever?”

  I shrug. “Don’t worry about it. Had Britain on the brain. Not that I care, but isn’t it bad luck to be with your wife on the eve of your wedding?”

  “Wife. God, I like the sound of that. No, I love the sound of that.”

  The awestruck expression on Branson’s face is something I never thought I’d see. But damn if he isn’t all goofy-eyed and grinning over the woman who brought him to his knees and made him put a ring on it.

  “Christ, I’m not sure who’s worse. You or Knox.”

  Branson barks out a laugh, ignoring me when I bring a finger to my lips. Of course he doesn’t care about being loud. He’s already been with his woman. “Me. Definitely me.” He pauses to look at me and then asks, “You know what you’re doing?”

  I run a hand through my already messed-up hair. “Fuck if I know.”

  He laughs again. Then he sobers, giving me a pointed look. “As her soon to be brother-in-law, I suppose it’s my duty to tell you if you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

  “Do you not remember the night at the wine bar?” I scoff. After a few too many drinks, I finally revealed to Branson just who Alyssa is and why I’d been so hostile at the dinner with the four of us. When he found out Ariana had been so close to his grasp, he was astounded. “Buddy, the only one you have to worry about getting hurt is me. That girl could do damage, but I can’t seem to stay away.”

  His lips twitch, and he gives me a chin lift. “I know the sentiment all too well. See you in the morning.”

  I nod in return and continue my trek down the hall, just waiting for Aunt Amelia to leap out of the shadows and catch me. A sigh of relief escapes me when, with quiet ease, I open Alyssa’s door, slip in, and close it with just a slight sound of it latching. Fuck yeah. I’m in.

  Mission accomplished.

  And then, out of nowhere, a pillow bounces off the side of my head.

  “What the hell?” I curse a little too loudly, which causes me to curse again.

  “What the hell, Shane?” Alyssa is standing there, gorgeous and beautiful in black panties, nearly bare before me, her arms folded. And she’s glaring at me.

  I’ll ignore that last part.

  “What are you doing here?” she hisses.

  I could explain with words, but where’s the fun in that?

  Three determined strides are all it takes for me to wrap my arm around her waist. My other hand cups her cheek, my lips capturing hers with hungry urgency.

  For a moment, she tries to protest, and I’m about to release her, but a split second before I do, she melts into my kiss. My heart—or maybe it’s my cock—silently cheers. I’ve missed this for far too long.

  I’ve missed her.

  She pulls away once again, gazing up at me, but I’m not letting her go. Not this time.

  “We can’t do this,” she gasps between kisses. Kisses she isn’t trying to stop. “I won’t do this. Not again.”

  Her words stop me abruptly. I pull back from her, my eyes searching hers. The moment she nods, my hand palms one supple breast. Alyssa moans in pleasure, and I can’t help my grin.

  “Oh, sunshine, it shouldn’t be so adorable when you lie.”

  She growls. Growls. Fuck, it’s hot. The sound does things to me, and I know I’ll be hearing it over and over again when I’m in bed, alone, thinking of her. But, for now, I’m lost in the moment. Her hips roll up to meet my cock, and I nearly come on the spot.

  I can’t believe hers is the last pussy I’ve had.

  I can’t believe hers is the last pussy I’ve wanted.

  But now’s not the time to examine what the fuck that means. Because now? All I want is her.

  Fuck foreplay. It’s early. We have plenty of time to go slow later. As far as I’m concerned, after this night, we have all the time in the world. Right now, though, I need to be inside her.

  And then it hits me like the world’s coldest shower.

  “Fuck. Fuck!”

  “Isn’t that what you’re trying to do here?” she asks, a coy smile crossing her beautifully swollen lips.

  “I don’t have a condom.”

  God dammit. My head hits the pillow beside her and I groan into it. I’m nearly desperate enough for her to forgo the protection. She was a virgin and I haven’t been with anyone since her. What’s the worst that can happen? Pregnancy? The idea alone should terrify me. Instead, it has the opposite effect and I grow impossibly hard.

  Fuck me. This wedding, Branson’s impending fatherhood—it’s really getting to me.

  Her hips once again rise up, and she slides herself along my length.

  I lift away from her. “That’s not helping.”

  “Oh,” is all she says in response. Then her smile turns mischievous. “Well, I guess you’re lucky I came prepared—”

  I jump off the bed with speed an Olympic sprinter would be jealous of before she can even get the words out. “Where?” I ask, desperate to be inside her.

  “In my purse.”

  I frantically glance around the room, running across to the dresser like a madman. With unceremonious desperation, I dump the entire bag over and hold it up like the most precious prize ever found. Alyssa giggles while I make quick work of sheathing my cock.

  And then I fucking pounce.

  Her legs immediately wrap around my waist. My cock finds her entrance with expert precision, like a rocket meeting its intended target. The result would be the same: an explosion of epic proportions like the world’s never seen. My lips crash down on hers, and my tongue slips between her parted lips, wanting to devour her. We kiss with desperate longing, and I realize she really has missed this as much as I have.

  At this moment, an intense desire to be inside her washes over me. So I pull back, gazing down at the gorgeous girl beneath me. Her dark chocolate hair is fanned out on t
he pillow, framing her face. The moonlight allows me to see the flush on her cheeks, and masculine pride swells because this desire is just for me. I want to fuck her with the pent-up angst I’ve been feeling since the morning I discovered she’d left the resort. I want to fuck the memory back into her, fuck her until she never wants to leave again.

  I didn’t fuck her the first time.

  I want to fuck her now.

  “Shane,” she pants, her legs trying to pull me closer with feverish desperation. “No foreplay. I need you. I need this. There’s been no one since you. And it’s been far too long.”

  The admission’s a victory that has me ready to give in, but I need to know something first.

  “Sunshine, tell me. Why’d you leave?”

  I know why she left. Her note said as much, yet something tells me she’d been holding something back and I have to know what it was.

  She blinks, her eyes unfocused. “You want to talk about this now?”

  “I need to know why. So you won’t do it again,” I explain. “Because I can’t lose this again.”

  It’s probably more of an admission that I need to give right now. Too late, though, because the words poured out before I could stop them.

  “You won’t,” she whispers, and it should be enough.

  It’s not.

  “Alyssa. If we’re doing this, I need you to tell me. Trust me.”

  Her pink tongue darts out to wet her lips as she stalls. Her eyes cloud over, and I can’t miss the hesitation etched on her features.

  I have no idea how I keep stock-still, the tip of my cock enveloped in the warmth of her entrance, begging for more. I want to tell her it’s fine. What she’s giving me is enough. But if I want her to trust me, I can’t start lying to her now.

  “I was scared,” she finally admits, her eyes not quite meeting mine.

  I cup her chin with my palm. “Scared of what?”

  She blinks twice before looking up at me. “Of you. Us. The intensity of what I’d felt for you so quickly, a stranger. It wasn’t just sex to me, Shane. What happened that night was so much more. It was…everything. And it terrified me.”

  I reclaim her mouth in a long, drugging kiss. Her words are intoxicating, and I can’t wait a second longer. With one agonizingly slow push, I sink into the hot, sweet pleasure that’s Alyssa’s pussy.

  Fuck me. She’s more incredible than I remembered.

  She’s just…more. And I get what she meant. Because this? Her? It feels like everything, too.

  And I’m a little terrified.

  I push the thought aside though and take both of her hands in mine, entwining our fingers and placing her arms over her head. Little space separates her lips from mine, our breaths mingling, our bodies connecting in the most intimate way.

  “Look at me.”

  Her eyes flutter open and I lose myself in those dark amber depths.

  “Christ, I’ve missed you.”

  “Fuck me, Shane,” she whispers in return.

  It’s not exactly what I want to hear, but fuck if it doesn’t make me oblige.

  Soft kisses and slow thrusts turn frantic, wanton, and as Alyssa and I come together once again, she squeezes my fingers, draws me unto her unrelenting stare, and says the four sweetest words I’ve ever heard.

  “I’ve missed you, too.”

  “I CAN’T believe I’m getting married,” Ari whispers, staring at her reflection in the floor length mirror.

  She is the most stunning bride I’ve ever seen. Her wedding dress is elegant, with white lace that flares out into an A-line at her tiny waist. The barely visible bump only adds to her beauty. As does her natural pregnancy glow. My sister’s never looked happier, and my heart swells with my own happiness for her.

  I can’t believe how much has changed in just a few short months since she ran out on Benjamin and crashed—almost literally—into Branson.

  Tears threaten, so as not to ruin my makeup, I tease her. “I can’t believe you managed to plan two weddings in the same year.”

  She turns, her smile soft, and places her hands on her belly. “And make a baby.”

  I laugh as I wrap my arms around her. “I’m so happy for you, Ari. Branson is truly your soul mate, and I’m so glad you found each other.”

  She hugs me back then swipes at her eyes. “Pregnancy hormones are bad enough without you being sweet and making me cry.”

  I shoulder-check her. “Hey, at least the morning sickness stopped. Imagine how Branson would feel if his blushing bride upchucked at his feet.”

  Her eyes widen in horror then relax with delight. “Thank goodness, indeed.” Her gaze softens. “Thank you for being there through all of this. Ben, the running away, the whirlwind with Branson. I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

  “Hey, that’s what sisters are for. I’ve always got your back.”

  It’s not long before there’s a knock at the door. Amelia pops her head in and smiles warmly at my sister. “Are you ready to become my daughter?”

  Ariana, tears welling yet again, smooths out the front of her dress and stands. “I’ve never been more ready for anything.”

  The whole affair is somewhat of a whirlwind. As maid of honor and best man, Knox and I walk down the aisle together last, right before my sister. The whole time, I feel Shane’s eyes on me. I sneak a quick peek over and see him standing next to Cohen, filling out his tux like nobody’s business. My heart does a silly little flip-flop at the sight of his rich chocolate hair and his penetrating blue eyes. What was supposed to be a glance turns into nearly a downright stare, and it’s not until we’re near the altar that I tear my gaze away.

  Just as we’re about to go to our separate sides, Knox leans in close and whispers in my ear, “Why do I have the feeling we’ll be family one of these days?”

  When I jerk my head up, his eyes dance with delight. I rise onto my tiptoes and reply, “Because your cousin has been eye-fucking me and glaring at you since we began walking down the aisle?”

  I leave out the part where I’ve been doing the same—eye-fucking Shane, not glaring. Because no woman glares at Knox Wellington.

  With unceremonious amusement, Knox’s head falls back as he barks out a laugh. I blush when I his wife’s lips twitch and she shakes her head at her dear husband.

  Knox pats my arm and deposits me right next to Charlie. “You’re gonna fit in around here.”

  A blush creeps onto my cheeks, but it’s forgotten the moment the music changes. Ellie Goulding’s “How Long Will I Love You” plays as Ariana walks down the aisle towards her man. Branson’s eyes, glistening with tears, are locked in on my sister.

  I remember when Ariana told me that, the first time she heard this song two months ago, she knew there could be no more perfect song to transition to Branson Wellington’s wife. She wanted to surprise him with this song, and by the captivation on his face, she has done just that. The beautiful words are a promise to Branson to love him as long as the stars remain, as long as the sea meets the sand; she will love him for forever.

  The two have eyes only for each other. As soon as she reaches him, he cups her face with both hands, his gaze burning into her. He murmurs something, low and indiscernible, and I feel the urge to look away. The moment between them is so breathtakingly intimate. And when his lips graze hers before they even begin their vows, a shiver runs down my spine. Unexpected longing takes root in my heart and I have to fight not to look at Shane.

  I’ve never felt this way before. This…yearning. Because now that I see what my sister has, I want that kind of love. I want that intimacy. I want all of it, and a small part of me wonders if Shane carries that same devoted gene all the other Wellington men seem to possess.

  At the thought of him, I dart my gaze to where he’s standing. I find his eyes, hot and heavy, already fixated on me.

  And that’s how we remain for the rest of the ceremony.

  Through the vows, the rings, the I do’s, even the pronouncement of man and
wife and the permission for Branson to kiss the bride, he holds me in his penetrating gaze and never lets go.

  Men, we don’t cry. Except for certain pivotal moments in our lives. Like getting kicked in the nuts. Seeing your firstborn right after your woman has given birth. And for Branson, it was when the love of his life, the woman who changed the game, walked towards him, placed her hand in his, and gave him her heart.

  Even I got a little choked up. So I fixed my gazed on the maid of honor and wondered…

  Could that be us?

  Two nights together and, apparently, I was ready to get down on one knee. How crazy would it be to speak up and ask if we could make this a double wedding? To tell Alyssa we need to get on baby-making as soon as possible so their cousins could be close in age.

  Everything I never thought I wanted, I suddenly do.

  I shake the thought out of my head. That is crazy talk. I figure I should probably take my future wife out on at least one—maybe two—dates before the whole “hey, wanna get hitched and have a kid or two?” topic comes up.

  Yeah, I need to slow it down. Step way back.

  Except, at this exact moment, Alyssa’s eyes meet mine. Fuck me, she is magnificent. And one of the most endearing qualities about her is she has no idea.

  The wedding passes in a blur. I can’t even tell you what either of them vowed to the other. It doesn’t matter. Those words weren’t meant for me. But the girl across the aisle? She so is.

  “You may kiss the bride.”

  The words only register because it means the wedding is over. I’m free. And Alyssa is only twenty feet away.

  I take two steps towards her, but then Knox places a hand on my arm, stopping me in my tracks. I turn to glare at him only to find him raising an eyebrow in my direction.

  “Not so fast, lover boy,” he drawls.

  My brow furrows. “You’re one to talk. The fact that you already haven’t swooped up your wife has me wondering if you’re feverish.”

  Knox chuckles. “Took care of that before the ceremony. Why do you think I was late to get ready?” A content expression crosses his face. “God, that woman has a great appreciation for classic cars.”