Unguarded (One Fairy Tale Wedding, #1)

by Noelle Adams

Charlie slept long and hard, and she woke up to bright sunlight streaming through the cracks in the curtains.

  The first thing she was aware of was a slight ache between her legs, a reminder that she’d had sex last night.

  Good sex. Incredibly good sex. The best sex she’d ever had.

  Sex with Simon—which meant it was far more important to her than merely a good time.

  She rolled over onto her back and opened her eyes, discovering she was in Simon’s room and it must be far into the morning since the sunlight wasn’t from early in the day. She glanced over at the clock on the bedside table and saw it was twenty past eleven.

  The bed was empty except for her. The covers were completely disarrayed, the top sheet completely untucked from the mattress with most of it pulled over on her side. She sat up and immediately regretted the move since the room was a little chilly.

  She was completely naked.

  Just as she was starting to feel a little sad about being left alone, she heard a noise from around the corner that blocked the bathroom vanity from her sight. She scooted down the bed and leaned forward to see past the corner, keeping herself covered up as much as she could.

  When she leaned forward enough, she could see Simon, standing in front of the sink in his underwear, halfway done with shaving.

  She smiled at the sight of him.

  Even the sight of the faint red scratches all down his back from her fingernails.

  He must have heard her moving on the bed because he glanced over his shoulder. His eyebrows went up when he saw her. “What are you doing?”

  “Seeing what you were doing.”

  “Why are you bundled up like that?”

  “I’m naked and the room is cold.”

  He gave that soft huff of amusement that was his normal laughter, stepping over to adjust the thermostat.

  “Thank you,” she told him, smiling rather sappily.

  “You’re welcome.” He went back to the sink and made another stroke down his jaw with his razor.

  She stayed where she was so she could watch him.

  After a moment, he asked, “Is this exciting viewing for you?”

  “Well, it’s either this or the ceiling, so this is slightly more exciting. I do like the view of your butt though.”

  He glanced back at her again.

  “It’s a very fine butt,” she explained.

  He rolled his eyes.

  “I can’t believe I slept so late,” she said. “When did you wake up?”

  “An hour or so ago.” He nodded toward the single cup coffee brewer in the corner. “I saved you some coffee if you want it.”

  “I’d have to get up, and I’m naked.”

  “Eventually you’ll have to remedy that fact.”

  “I know. Maybe when it gets warmer in the room.”

  He chuckled again, rinsing off his razor and laying it on the side of the sink. Then he went over to make a cup of coffee and bring it over to her.

  She beamed at him as she took it, sipping it in pleasure as Simon went back to the sink to wash the remaining shaving cream from his face.

  “The brunch goes until one, so we still have plenty of time to get some food,” she said.

  “I know. I was going to wake you up at noon if you hadn’t woken by then.”

  “Did you sleep okay?”

  “Yeah. I told you I just woke up an hour ago. I can’t remember the last time I slept so late.”

  This confession made her ridiculously happy. “Maybe you should have sex more often.”

  “What makes you think I don’t have a lot of sex?” He didn’t sound offended or defensive—mostly just dry and curious.

  “Well, I guess I don’t really know. You’re certainly incredibly good at it. But you just don’t seem to have much of a social life. At least... at least as far as I ever knew.”

  She was suddenly uncomfortable, wondering if she’d made wrong assumptions about him the whole time. Maybe he went out with women all the time and never made a big deal about it. Maybe he didn’t take sex seriously.

  Maybe he wasn’t going to take sex with her seriously.

  “Do you?” she asked, when he didn’t answer.

  He was still standing near the sink, but he was facing her direction now. “Do I what?”

  “Have sex a lot.”

  “I’m not some sort of monk, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “I’m not implying that! I just said you were great at sex. You don’t need any practice. Believe me. I was just...”

  He stepped over toward her and sat down on the edge of the bed, turning his upper body to face her. He reached over to lift up her chin. “You were just what?”

  “I was just wondering if there was something I never knew about you.”

  He was silent for a moment. Then he murmured very softly, “I imagine there’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

  “Well, I’d know it if you bothered to tell me.”

  “Do you tell me everything?”

  “Yes.”

  He arched his eyebrows.

  “I do! I didn’t when I was eighteen, but I do now. What do you want to know that you think I haven’t told you?”

  He opened his mouth briefly but closed it again.

  “What? Just ask me.” Her eyes were wide, and she was utterly serious. The way she felt about him, the degree to which she trusted him, was as deep as it could get.

  “Before last night, when was the last time you had sex?” he asked. She could tell somehow that it wasn’t the question that had initially come to mind for him.

  “Three months ago. That lawyer I dated for a few weeks. He was... well, he was an okay guy, but he liked a lot of dirty talk and props in bed—which is fine, I suppose—but he wasn’t very good at it and all the talking ended up distracting from the... from the other stuff. The result was kind of strange and cluttered and not very satisfying.”

  Simon laughed out loud—almost uninhibitedly, which he never did. “I hope you’ll never describe me as having cluttered sex.”

  She giggled. “If last night was any indication, then I imagine I won’t ever have that complaint. But if you’re worried, we can try it again and I can make another assessment.” She reached out to grab his shoulders, trying to pull him closer to her.

  He resisted, eventually standing up.

  With a frown, she asked, “Why are you being all standoffish?”

  “We can’t have sex again.”

  “What?” Her response was much sharper than it should have been as her heart clamped down in fear and surprise.

  “I mean now,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean not ever. I mean we can’t have sex again now.”

  She let out her breath. “Why not? I can be quick.”

  “Maybe you can, but if I take you to bed again, neither one of us will be getting out of it for the rest of the day. If you want to do this wedding, then we better not.”

  She shivered with pleasure—both at his words and at the heated look in his eyes.

  It was morning, and he still wanted her. He hadn’t turned into some sort of romantic prince overnight. He was still Simon—dry and clever and unsmiling.

  But still...

  He still wanted her.

  “All right,” she said with exaggerated resignation. She swallowed down a few more sips of her coffee and then groaned as she stood up. It wasn’t quite as a cold in the room, but her skin broke out in goose bumps all the same.

  She reached down to pick up her camisole and shorts, noticing Simon’s hungry gaze as she stood up. “If we can’t have sex, then you probably shouldn’t be leering at me that way.”

  “Right,” he said. He was already halfway erect, just from the sight of her naked body. “No leering. I’m going to take a shower now.”

  “I’m going to my room. Don’t go down to the brunch without me.”

  “I won’t,” he said as he closed the door to the bathroom.

  Charlie drank down the last of her co
ffee and put the mug on the dresser.

  Then she went to her room.

  Before she got in the shower, though, she sent a text to Hannah and Madison, letting them know things had taken a good turn for her and Simon overnight.

  CHARLIE WAS FEELING almost giddy as she rode down the elevator with Simon less than an hour later.

  He was wearing a brown suit, and she was wearing a rose-pink dress and her favorite buff designer heels.

  If she’d been thinking things through, she might have been afraid he’d withdraw this morning, after losing control last night. He’d always been resistant to this relationship, and those feelings didn’t necessarily disappear just because he’d surrendered to desire.

  He hadn’t withdrawn though.

  He was with her today, and his eyes occasionally lingered on her face as the elevator descended, as if he really liked what he was looking at.

  The expression made her happy.

  Simon made her happy.

  And she had no reason not to hope for things to continue to go well between them.

  She was allowed to be hopeful. Maybe in the past she’d been overly hopeful about possibilities that had no real substance, but this was different.

  She knew it was different.

  She was allowed to be hopeful about this.

  She took his arm as the elevator doors opened, and they stepped into a wide hallway. She could hear chatter wafting toward them from the right, so she turned in that direction, toward the event room where the brunch was being served.

  She was a little disappointed when Simon carefully pulled his arm away as they approached, but she didn’t have time to stew about it. She was almost immediately surrounded by old school friends, and she had to focus on small talk.

  Simon didn’t talk much at all, but he wasn’t scowling, and he responded if someone asked him a direct question, so she wasn’t too worried about it. He’d never been a talker, and he didn’t like superficial conversation like this. He didn’t know these people, and she did, so it made sense that she’d be responsible for keeping up the social interaction.

  She enjoyed the food and offered no explanation when people assumed she and Simon were a couple. He didn’t object either, so she figured that was progress.

  Hannah and Madison had come down to eat an hour earlier, according to their texts, but otherwise she had a good time at brunch. She was flushed and smiling and pleased with the world as she and Simon left.

  “You could smile a little, you know,” she said lightly, making sure her tone was teasing so he wouldn’t think she was complaining.

  He gave her his normal eyebrow lift.

  “Just so people know you’re not in a bad mood. They don’t know you like I know you.”

  “And what do you know about me?”

  She leaned forward, holding on to the lapels of his jacket. “I know you act all cool and aloof, but you’re really like hot chocolate inside.”

  “Hot chocolate?”

  With a little laugh, she murmured, “Yes. Warm and deep and melting and sweet.” She stretched up on her tiptoes so she could press a kiss against his lips.

  He leaned into it for a moment, like he couldn’t resist, but then he pulled away. “I’ve never been called hot chocolate before.”

  “That’s because you don’t like people to know the real you. But I do, and I’m quite fond of it.” She reached up to kiss him again, but this time he took a step back. “Why are you pulling away?”

  “We’re standing in the middle of the hallway.”

  “Who cares about that?”

  “I do.”

  She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Just took his arm and dragged him to the elevator. When they stepped in and the doors closed, she pulled him down into a kiss. Almost defiantly.

  This time he responded, sliding his hand to the small of her back as he traced the line of her lips with his tongue.

  She shivered in pleasure, but he pulled away as soon as the chime sounded for their floor.

  “You’re allowed to kiss me in public, you know,” she said as they stepped out into the hallway.

  “Is that so?”

  She curled her lip at the irony in his tone. “Yes, that’s so. Normal people do it all the time.”

  “You’re not the one who would be seen as a perv.”

  Her teasing took a sudden turn. She stopped walking to frown at him. “No one is going to think you’re a perv.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “Yes, that’s what I think. What are you even talking about? We’ve never been anything approximating family, and you’re just fifteen years older than me. For God’s sake, you’d have to be ten years older than you are for me to even be a proper trophy wife for you.”

  He made a choked sound. “You’re not a trophy!”

  “I know I’m not a trophy. I was just saying—”

  “And who said anything about a wife?”

  She flushed hotly, rattled and strangely upset. “No one did. I wasn’t meaning we would... I was just saying that men date young women all the time, and a lot of them have a far bigger age difference than we do. No one is going to think it’s strange or wrong. You’re really worried about that?”

  His face was closed down to that guarded look she really didn’t like. “I’m not worried.”

  “But you don’t want me to kiss you in public?”

  “Not really. I think it’s better for us to go slow.”

  She let out a long breath, her giddiness transformed to something else. Not really depressed, but oddly tired. “Okay. Fine.”

  CHARLIE’S DRESS FOR the wedding was an evening gown—since the wedding was a black-tie event—but it was more subdued than the one she’d worn last night. It was a much darker red, and it fell in soft, straight lines to her ankles. It had thin straps, but because it was cold outside, she paired it with a black silk sweater with pretty beadwork around the hem. She felt elegant and strangely grown-up as she put on small ruby earrings that had been her mother’s.

  Her mother had been exactly her age when Charlie had been born.

  She wasn’t sure why the thought hit her the way it had.

  When there was a knock on her door, she went over to open it, holding a matching necklace in her hand.

  Simon. Looking sexy and sophisticated in another tux. But also strangely sober. His eyes ran up and down Charlie’s body.

  She gave him a little smile. “I’m almost ready. Can you help me with this?”

  He took the necklace she handed him and placed it around her neck as she moved aside her hair, which she was leaving loose tonight.

  She felt his warm fingers against her skin as he carefully worked on the clasp. Then his fingertips ran in a line along her bare throat, making her shiver.

  “It was my mom’s,” she said, feeling like someone needed to break the silence.

  “I remember.”

  He’d known her parents. He’d known them when she was just a child. She was suddenly slammed with a wave of uncertainty. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was too weird and unnatural for them to be together now.

  Maybe his hesitations weren’t wrong at all.

  Brushing the anxiety aside, she walked over to the mirror to make sure her appearance was in order. Then she turned and asked, “You ready?”

  He nodded, his eyes still oddly sober and quiet as they rested on her face.

  He was thinking something. Something he hadn’t yet told her.

  She was afraid it wasn’t good.

  Her mood was much lower than it had been that morning as she rode down the elevator next to Simon. Instinctively she sought comfort from him. She reached over to take his hand in hers.

  He squeezed hers and held it without speaking, the gesture fond, supportive.

  They were still holding hands as they made their way to the ornate ballroom that had been set up for the wedding with rows of seats, a center aisle, and a lovely arbor at the front. They were twenty minutes early, so there
were still plenty of good seats. An usher took them to the sixth row from the front to two seats on the center aisle.

  Simon let her hand slip out of his as they started down the aisle.

  When they’d sat down, Charlie turned around to scan the other guests, and she waved at Madison. Hannah was a bridesmaid, so she was out of sight with the wedding party. She’d texted her friends a few times that afternoon, and it seemed like both of them were making progress with their goals for the weekend. She hoped they were.

  Normally, she’d assume she was making progress too, but she felt strangely distant to Simon right now—even though she was sitting right beside him, their thighs brushing against each other, and he’d been inside her, as deep as he could get, last night.

  Sex wasn’t enough to span a chasm.

  Sometimes it just highlighted how far apart two people really were.

  A string quartet was playing classical music, and the low murmur from the guests was enough to drown the music out. She tried to enjoy the pleasant music, the lovely ballroom, the glowing candlelight, the beautifully designed flowers, the elegant outfits of the people all around her. She usually loved weddings, and she loved to dress up.

  She felt heavy and poignant at the moment though.

  Simon was sitting in stoic silence, and she had no idea what he was thinking.

  Eventually the groom appeared at the front with the minister and groomsmen. Then the music shifted and the bridesmaids started to process. There were six in all, and Hannah was the third. Charlie met her eyes as she took her place in the front, and they exchanged a look of knowledge, bonding, camaraderie.

  It made Charlie feel a little better. She might be confused about just about everything, but she still had her best friends. They weren’t going anywhere.

  She stood up with everyone else when the bride started down the aisle. Charlie thought the wedding overall was beautiful and tasteful, but she didn’t like the wedding dress. It was over-the-top princess-y, which she normally fully supported. But it seemed to drown the bride, as if the dress was more important than the woman.

  It wasn’t her wedding though. People could do what they wanted.

  Someone might hate the wedding dress she picked out.

  If she ever got to the point of getting married.