Conflict (The Wellingtons Book 3)

by Tessa Teevan

  He frowns. “What?”

  “Do it again and you’ll never get naked-under-the-coat, no-condom Alyssa again.”

  His lips quirk up into a grin and he slaps my ass. “You play dirty,” he says. “I kinda like it.”

  “Yeah, well, I learned from the best, didn’t I?”

  He stands, taking me in his arms and carrying me down the hall until we’re in his room and he’s throwing me on the bed. “Let’s see what else you’ve learned.”

  AFTER THAT not-quite-so-tiny hiccup with Mr. Wellsley, my wannabe knight in shining armor barging into WC, and the subsequent aftermath, Shane and I settle into a fantastic rhythm. It’s comfortable. The pace our relationship is progressing, probably faster than I expected. But since we lost so much time together over the last year (nice going, Alyssa), it’s like we’re making up for lost time.

  While I appreciated that Shane wanted to take things slow in the beginning, I’m even happier that, once we slept together, things moved full steam ahead. It took a few weeks before we graduated to weekday sleepovers. During that time, I’d spend my entire week looking forward to Friday night when I could see him again. After two weeks of longing, Shane started a ritual, taking me on a date every Friday, because in his words, he “doesn’t want to get boring.”

  I tried to tell him it wasn’t possible, but the truth is I actually love and look forward to Friday Date Night, even now that we’ve started staying together during the week, too. Especially because instead of having to leave the next morning, I get two uninterrupted days with him. And getting that fix is paramount now that I’m addicted to him.

  That doesn’t mean there aren’t some nights I spend in my bed, alone, due to late meetings, needing to work from home, or whatever. In hindsight, it’s kind of silly. We end up Face Timing for at least an hour before calling it a night. An hour during which Shane likes to remind me that we could be doing other things in the presence of each other.

  But honestly? As much as I love being with him physically, there’s just something so damn sexy about watching him jack off on camera.

  When we aren’t together, my days usually start with a text message. Usually something along the lines of…

  Shane: I’m not a morning person, but if I woke up every morning next to you, I would be.

  Suffice it to say, I begin my days with a smile.

  I usually end them that way, too.

  When we reach the four-month mark with no engagement ring or baby on the way, I suggest we celebrate. Ariana, however, doesn’t find it as funny as I do. Of course she gets me back soon enough. One of Branson and Shane’s friends is getting married in Vegas, and when the four of us head there for a long weekend, my sister sweetly suggests Shane and I find our own chapel while we’re there.

  My sister knows exactly how to shut me up.

  After two days of lounging by the pool during the day and playing the slots at night, Ariana and I are about to check an item off our bucket list.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” I ask Shane, laughing at the hesitation on his face. “The Backstreet Boys are a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I swear you’ll get so lucky tonight.”

  “Yeah. I think I’m good, babe. Branson and I will do just fine on our own.” He presses a kiss to the tip of my nose. “Something tells me I’ll get lucky anyway.”

  “Your intuition is quite strong, Mr. Wellington,” I tease, Then I give him a lingering kiss before my sister ushers me out the door, declaring that she’ll cut me if I make her miss a single song.

  We make it just in time and spend the next three hours singing boy band ballads to our hearts’ content.

  Once we’re out of the concert, I check my phone and see I have a text from my friend Sarah, whom I haven’t seen in ages. Apparently, she saw my Instagram and was none too happy that I hadn’t informed her I’m in town.

  Sarah: You’re in Vegas and didn’t call me?! Hooker, you know I moved here three years ago. Is that hot piece of ass scrambling your brain?

  I grin. That’s so Sarah. I type out a quick text, and after a few minutes of back and forth, we’ve made plans to meet up in half an hour. Something about going for a joyride out in the sand dunes and not having lived until you’ve checked out the stars under the Vegas desert sky.

  Exactly thirty minutes later, a Jeep pulls up outside the hotel and Sarah jumps out. We do the ritual squealing of friends who’ve been apart far too long. She hugs Ariana, whose baby bump is now on full display.

  My sister yawns. “As much fun as doing donuts in the sand sounds, I’m exhausted. I’m going to sit this one out if that’s okay.”

  “I can come upstairs with you if you want,” I offer, and she just smiles with a shake of her head.

  “I have a feeling I’ll be asleep the moment my head hits the pillow. Go, have fun. I’ll see you the morning.”

  Sarah and I catch up on the drive out to the desert. I’ve never been to Vegas before, so I’m out of my element, just going along for the ride. And what a ride it is. We’re having so much fun flying across the sand under a clear Vegas night. Just as we’re about to make our way back to the hotel, something blocks our path.

  The lights come out of nowhere, shining more like a spotlight than headlights. Sarah mutters a curse then flips the Jeep into reverse and tries to get around the large vehicle. He moves in unison, making it so we can’t get around him.

  My heart pounds against my chest as Sarah curses again.

  “Sarah, this is freaking me out. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t want to say anything back there, but I saw the truck come up from the west without his lights on. I thought it was just some drunk idiot, but now, I’m not so sure.”

  Fear creeps in, and without a second thought, I whip my phone out to call Shane. I get his voicemail, and I start to leave him a message, but then my phone dies halfway through.

  “Dammit!” I yell.

  I drop my phone on the floor and bend to pick it up just as Sarah shouts.

  “Hold on!” she screams then jerks the wheel.

  When I sit back up, all I see are bright lights descending upon us at an unimaginable speed, and the last thought that goes through my mind is of Shane.

  Branson’s frowning at his phone when I return from the bar.

  I set down two whiskeys. “What’s with the face?”

  “The girls went somewhere after the concert. Ariana’s not picking up her phone,” he grumbles.

  I pull mine out and see a voicemail message from nearly an hour ago. Pressing my phone up to my ear, I’m on high alert the second I hear Alyssa’s panicked tone.

  “Shane.”

  I have to strain to hear her whisper.

  “We’re out in the desert, doing wheelies in the sand. There’s a truck out here, and I think…he’s following us. Shit—”

  That’s the last word before the voicemail abruptly ends. I click to return her call, and it doesn’t even ring. It goes straight to voicemail. The worst goes through my mind. What kind of sick fucks are hiding in the Vegas desert, and who in the hell knows what he’d do to two women alone? What the fuck were they thinking, going off alone?

  I replay the message for Branson. His face turns an impossible shade of red, like he’s about to explode. He rushes towards the elevator, pressing the up button over and over again until one of the doors finally opens.

  He’s chanting all the way up to the penthouse suite he’d booked for the weekend. “Come on, come on, come on.”

  Branson’s out the door as soon as it opens, tearing through the suite. I’m hot on his heels, and when he gets to his room, he falls to his knees so quickly that I nearly run into him. But Ariana is safe, sprawled out on their massive bed, fast asleep.

  One Covington girl found; one to go.

  Branson glances up at me. “Give me a moment, and then we’ll go find Alyssa.”

  I nod, closing the door behind me. I rest my head back against it, trying to calm my racing hear
t. Trying to push away the unease in my chest.

  “What’s going on?”

  And it’s my turn to stumble.

  Alyssa’s standing behind me, in the center of the living room, and I’m startled by her appearance. She’s covered in dirt, and a faint bruise is starting to form on her cheek.

  There’s an unfamiliar girl standing next to her, equally as disheveled. She gives me a small wave. “Umm, hi, I’m Sarah.”

  All I do is glare.

  “And I’m going to go.”

  “Where the hell have you been? I got your voicemail and it cut off right in the middle after you said something about being followed?”

  She holds her phone up. “I took too many pictures during the concert and it died. Sarah, we’re old friends. She found out I was in town and wanted to take me for a joy ride.” She shrugs. “We just didn’t know how much like the movie it’d be.”

  I frown, not understanding the reference. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “We just made a short drive out to the desert so she could show me the dunes, do some off-roading in her Jeep. A weird truck with extremely bright lights showed up, blocking our path to get back to the road.”

  I stand up straighter, my fists balled at my sides. “What happened to your face?”

  She laughs but sobers when I don’t find this amusing in the least. “Sarah, or perhaps she’d be better known as Lewis Hamilton, pulled some pretty sweet maneuvers to get past the asshole. My cheek was a casualty of one of them, but it was worth it. When we finally got past their lights and could see inside the cab, it was a couple of teenage boys, probably just having some fun at our expense. They didn’t follow, and we came straight here. I was hoping you hadn’t gotten the voicemail…but I can see you did.”

  “Just a couple of minutes ago. Branson came to see if Ariana was here or with you. Then we were going to start searching for you.”

  She holds her arms out. “As you can see, I’m all in one piece.”

  I cross the room and draw her into my arms, burying my face in her hair. “You took away about a decade off my life tonight, sunshine. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

  Alyssa pulls back, her hand cupping my cheek. “You won’t, Shane. You don’t have to worry about that. I promise.”

  I need more than words. That’s why I take her to the shower, wash every inch of her, and pour myself into her repeatedly until there’s nothing left in my heart except for her.

  ALL SEEMS well the next morning. Branson’s more attentive of Ariana than usual, which is saying something because as her pregnancy progresses, he lets her out of his sight less and less. In fact, when they weren’t sure she could fly, Branson said he’d either miss the wedding or hire a private jet to make it happen.

  Since we’re all here, you can guess which he chose.

  My own anger over the situation last night has faded. I didn’t allow Alyssa out of my arms throughout the night. After the scare, I just needed to hold her close, to reassure myself she was fine.

  And now, as I study her, I’m finally examining the gamut of emotions I went through in such a short time last night.

  She turns onto her stomach and kicks her feet up behind her. Peering down at me over her sunglasses, she purses her lips. “Why do you call me sunshine?” she asks. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but, well, you keep my mouth otherwise occupied.”

  I grin at the memories. When it comes to cock—mine specifically—my woman is ravenous. That’s a good thing, because as a tit-for-tat man, I’ve never tasted anything sweeter than her.

  “It’s going to sound stupid.”

  Alyssa nibbles on her bottom lip. “Try me, stud.”

  “I like the way your mind works,” I tell her, going to lean in, but she holds a hand to my chest.

  “Uh-uh. You have to answer me before you get any sugar.”

  God, I love this woman.

  And that thought has me falling back against my chair.

  I love her. Until right now, I had no fucking clue.

  Okay, I’ve been feeling things. I guess I just didn’t know what they meant until now.

  Huh.

  Well, shit.

  What do I do now?

  She snaps her fingers. “Earth to Shane!”

  “I… I…”

  I can’t say anything.

  What the fuck?

  She crawls onto my lounge chair and straddles my hips. “Shane Wellington, you’re speechless.” She leans down and places a soft kiss on my lips. “You can tell me later when we don’t have an audience.”

  And before I can say a word, Alyssa’s tucking Sarah’s arm into hers and walking away.

  I watch, because, hello, she looks fantastic from behind. I’m so mesmerized, so I don’t realize I’m no longer alone until a towel hits me in the side of the head.

  I glance up to see Branson grinning down at me.

  “What the fuck, man?”

  “It finally happened, didn’t it?” he asks, because of course, if anyone knows what it’s like to love a Covington woman, it’s him.

  “No,” I tell him honestly.

  He frowns, so I continue.

  “I’ve only just realized it happened a long damn time ago.”

  It’s our last night in Vegas and we’re lounging in bed, trying to decide what to do with our night. Branson and Ariana have their own plans, so we’re on our own. Not that I mind. Sure, I love my cousin and his wife, but alone time with my girl in Sin City? Yes please.

  I trace the curve of her lower back with my fingers, watching as she scrolls through her phone, looking for something to do. “Do you ever hear a song that stops you in your tracks? That reminds you of some profound moment that you never actually knew was profound until you’ve heard the song?”

  She surprises me with her immediate response. “Dan + Shay’s ‘Tequila.’”

  “I’m unfamiliar with that one,” I admit.

  Alyssa types something on her phone then the song plays. “Every time I hear this song, it reminds me of leaving you that morning in Florida. Of what I could’ve lost. It always makes me think of you. How about you? Is there a song that makes you think of me?”

  “So… don’t call me a copycat. But going with the country theme, I have to go with Lady Antebellum’s ‘If I Knew Then.’ Because I wish I’d known exactly how drastically you’d change my life.”

  Alyssa’s eyes soften. “Shane…”

  She cuddles up to me, and we rest in peace for who knows how long. Eventually, she stirs.

  “So, what do you want to do with our last free night?” she asks, sprawling across my chest and peering down at me.

  “Marry you.”

  The words slip out before I can stop them. Alyssa’s dark eyes widen, and I reach across to the nightstand where I stashed the ring my mom gave me the weekend after she met Alyssa. I didn’t plan on doing this. Not here. Not like this. But nothing about us has been conventional, so why start now?

  I sit up, resting my back against the headboard. Alyssa settles between my legs, watching me with awestruck eyes, her lower lip sucked in between her teeth.

  My heart races with the realization that not only am I doing this, but I really fucking want to.

  “I didn’t want this, Alyssa. I wasn’t looking for it, but you just landed in my life and took root. Now that I’ve had you, there’s nothing—no one—I need more. It’s fast. It’s crazy. And I don’t care. I love you. I love you with everything in me, in a way I didn’t know was possible, and the idea of losing you? It kills me. So love me back, sunshine. Marry me. Be mine for the rest of our lives, because this life is nothing if you’re not by my side.”

  “I…I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes.”

  Alyssa takes a step back and my heart drops to the pit of my stomach. “When I was out there in the sand, unsure if I’d even make it back to you, all I could think about was all the time I’ve wasted with you. I pushed you away when my heart told me
to draw you close. I’m not pushing you anymore, Shane. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t care if it’s fast. I don’t care if it’s crazy. Yes. I’d marry you this very second if I could.”

  And this is how Alyssa and I end up in Vegas, married without pomp or circumstance, and with a reception for two filled with endless orgasms, champagne, and a whole lot of love.

  The Wellington Way captured its last victim, and damn, life has never felt so damn right.

  IF YOU’D have told me a year ago that I’d not only not be a virgin, but marry the man of my dreams, I’d have called you a liar.

  But here I am, two weeks into being a wife, and life couldn’t be better. Of course, we had a lot of people to answer to, starting with Branson and Ariana. Surprisingly, Clay and Maria were much more understanding. We agreed to a post-wedding reception, which seemed to please all parties.

  I’m putting the finishing touches on dinner when I hear the front door open. When Shane fills the doorway to the dining room, I grin at the sight of him, but when I see the hard line of his jaw, I take pause.

  “Shane? What’s going on?”

  He loosens his tie and looks at me. “I have to tell you something.”

  “Okay…” I breathe. “Should I be sitting down for this?”

  He swallows hard, and then worry sets it. “We won.”

  I have no idea what he’s talking about, which must be evident because he quickly continues.

  “Filiatrault. He chose Wellington.”

  “That’s great, honey. Gosh, you scared me for a minute there. Please, next time, don’t be so dramatic.”

  Surprise crosses his features. “You’re not upset?”

  I shrug. “One of us had to win, and well, you probably had a whole lot more riding on this than me. I’m happy for you. I’ll always be proud of your accomplishments, even if I work for the competition. Plus, look on the bright side. This means an even sweeter birthday gift from Ariana this year,” I tease.

  Shane takes a step forward, hooking his arm around my waist and drawing me close. “And me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in question.