by Witt, L. A.
Weddings didn’t usually get to me like this, but damn it, I had to wipe my eyes too.
Again.
* * *
After everyone had eaten, the deejay called the newlyweds onto the floor for the first dance. I was kind of surprised that Levi didn’t protest. On the other hand, Carter had brought out a side of Levi that had been dormant his entire life. After all those tame-but-tender public displays of affection, and the very public announcements of their relationship and engagement, not to mention the way Levi still grinned like an idiot every time he saw Carter . . . well, what was a slow dance at their wedding?
I couldn’t help but feel proud of him. After being so firmly in the closet, and so afraid of being “out” in public, there he was—slow-dancing in the middle of the floor, in front of two hundred people, with a gold band shining on his hand and the sweetest smile shining on his husband’s face.
Eventually, the deejay invited everyone else to join the guys on the floor, though Carter and Levi didn’t seem aware that any of us existed at all. As other couples started dancing, the two of them stayed focused on each other. Still dancing, still smiling, as if they were each waiting for the other to whisper, “Let’s blow this joint and go home.”
All around them, the dance floor was filled with familiar Wolf’s Landing faces. Ginsberg and Derrick were almost as lost in each other as the oblivious grooms. Jeremy and Scott were smiling at each other like the adorably romantic dorks they were. Kevin had to work at it, but he finally dragged Hunter out there, and after a few slow turns, the crotchety old grump got into the spirit of things. After a few more steps, he even paused to kiss Kevin’s forehead.
Beside me, Natalya whispered, “I hope they stay that happy. They’re such a lovely couple.” She could have been talking about anyone out there, but of course, I knew who she meant. I shifted my gaze toward Levi and Carter.
“They deserve this,” I said. “Like nobody else.”
Natalya nodded. She smiled, watching the happy grooms for a moment.
Then she looked at me. Something in my stomach fluttered, and it took all the resolve I had not to wrap my arm around her waist. That wasn’t what we were. It wasn’t what we were doing. But God, it felt like the thing to do.
Then she gestured at the dance floor. “We should dance.”
I turned to her. “We . . . we should?”
She held out her hand, and the smile on her lips screwed with my blood pressure. Like Levi, dancing had never really been my cup of tea, but . . . Hell. Who was I to say no to wrapping my arms around her and moving to some slow, easy music?
I put my hand in hers. A few heads turned. Or maybe it was my imagination. I always felt conspicuous making even the most platonic physical contact with a woman in public, but this was a bit harder to write off as nothing.
Heart pounding, I let her lead me out onto the floor, and suddenly we were in each other’s arms. She kept some distance between us, just enough to keep her dress from brushing the front of mine. Which was good. If it did, I’d feel it brush my hard nipples, and I would gasp, and I would probably melt right there at her feet.
It’s just dancing. Chill.
Okay, so later on, there’d be a hell of a lot more than dancing. The hand on my waist would be between my legs, her fingers inside me, and the lips smiling back at me would be . . .
I tried to hide a shiver and, without thinking about it, inched closer to her. She didn’t miss a beat, and with the way we held each other, there was no way she didn’t feel my rock-hard nipples between us now. I sure did. Holy hell. Every time one of us moved, or breathed, or thought about breathing, the faint friction sent little sparks from my breasts right down to my clit.
Just dancing. And sex. Just dancing and sex.
Except . . .
Except the way I felt looking in her eyes . . .
Like there was nobody else here. Like it made perfect sense for the two of us to be here, holding on to each other and looking in each other’s eyes, as if there’d never been any reason for me to balk at us. Like there really was an us.
No, it was nothing. I was just getting caught up in the romance of a wedding. That was enough to make everyone swoon over the nearest warm body and feel like they were in love. And since Natalya and I were physically intimate, we weren’t just the other’s nearest warm body.
I don’t feel that way about her. We have great sex and we’re great friends. But I’m not in love with her.
I don’t . . . I don’t think I’m in love with her.
Am I?
“People are watching,” she said softly.
Goose bumps prickled my back. “I know.”
“So much for keeping this under wraps.” She flashed a mischievous grin. “If they didn’t know before, they know now.”
“They do.” But what do they know? I met her gaze and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “I’m guessing you don’t mind.”
“No.” She cupped my cheek. “I don’t mind at all. You don’t seem to either.”
“Can’t say I do.”
“Thought so.”
Her hand slid into my hair, and right there in front of God and everyone, she drew me in and pressed her lips to mine.
And everyone knew.
Including me.
Chapter 19
My legs almost collapsed out from under me. Had we stopped moving? I was pretty sure we’d stopped moving.
But we hadn’t stopped kissing. Music was still playing, people were still talking all around us, but Natalya’s lips were still against mine, and if we were still dancing, it wasn’t because of any conscious effort on my part.
She touched her forehead to mine. Her breath rushed across my lips. “I . . . didn’t plan that.”
“Neither did I.” What a dumb thing to say. Of course I hadn’t planned it. She’d made the move. And she couldn’t possibly have known what she was doing.
Our feet weren’t moving anymore. That much finally became apparent. As I drew back, the rest of the world reappeared, but it didn’t come into focus. All I could focus on was the gorgeous woman in front of me, and the longer I stared at her, the harder my heart thumped in my chest.
I didn’t care if anyone knew we were seeing each other. They all knew I was a lesbian, and if they didn’t before, they did now. And I was hardly going to be embarrassed if people figured out Natalya was sharing my bed.
That wasn’t why my heart pounded or my stomach twisted. It wasn’t why my spine tingled with a mixture of panic, excitement, and . . . relief?
There might’ve been people staring. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. Right then, I held her gaze because I couldn’t look anywhere else.
It’s true, isn’t it? I’m in love with you.
She touched my face. The soft brush of her thumb across my cheekbone gave me more goose bumps.
God. Yes.
But it happened so fast. And this is supposed to be casual. And you’re bi. And—
And I love you.
Natalya’s hand left my cheek, and she slipped her fingers between mine. Then we were walking. She was leading me, I was following her, and we were leaving the dance floor. Were people watching? Didn’t know. Didn’t care.
I thought she was leading me toward our table, but she continued right past it, and I followed because what else could I do?
The hallway outside the ballroom was a dizzying maze I couldn’t have backtracked if I tried—or at least it seemed that way—and then Natalya pushed open a door. She disappeared through it. Still holding her hand, I followed. The room was mostly dark—Is this a coat closet?—and then it was suddenly pitch-black. Natalya grabbed me again, pulled me into a kiss, and I didn’t care what kind of room this was or how much light there was, because there was no stopping now. It was impossible to say who was in control. She was pushing me back, I was dragging her with me, and the end result was my back up against the wall and her breasts pressed against mine.
Clothes didn’t even mat
ter anymore. Somehow, her hand was on skin. On my inner thigh. Pushing my panties aside.
Sighing, I arched off the wall as her fingers slipped inside me, and she kissed me again. I was vaguely aware that with our hair done and faces made up, we needed to be careful not to dishevel or smear anything. Or, well, we should’ve been careful. God help us if anyone saw a hair out of place or some lipstick where it didn’t belong. Then they might know. They might figure out that I’d been in this pitch-black closet with Natalya’s hand up my dress and my tongue in her mouth and—
Oh, to hell with anyone figuring out what we’d done. What we were doing. What we were going to do. Let them all walk in and see, because I wanted the whole damned world to know I was turning this woman on.
Behind me, the wall vibrated with the sounds of the reception we’d abandoned. Music. Voices. Laughter.
But I was here with Natalya, panting and kissing, and I couldn’t get enough. And I wanted her to feel as good as she was making me feel, so I tugged her skirt up until I could slip my hand between her thighs. I didn’t have to move her panties aside, though—she wasn’t wearing any. I slid two fingers into her tight and very wet pussy, and she moaned, breaking the kiss and letting her head fall beside mine. Had she been this turned on the whole time? Thinking about dragging me away like this?
“My God, you’re so wet,” I murmured.
“So are you.” She moved her fingers faster, as if to emphasize what we both already knew.
It was too dark to see anything, but if there’d been any light, it would’ve been blurry with tears as she drove me closer and closer. Every breath I took forced my ribs against this dress that was suddenly too damned tight—it had fit perfectly in the store, but I hadn’t taken into consideration the rapid, deep gulps of air I’d need when I found myself pressed against a wall with Natalya. The zipper dug into my back, reminding me just how easily we could solve this problem. Draw it down, shake off the dress, lose the bra, and I’d have all the breathing room I needed to survive this, but that meant letting go of Natalya. It meant taking my hand away from her pussy, or Natalya taking her hand away from mine, and no amount of oxygen was worth interrupting this amazing, electric, feverish ecstasy.
I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath despite the confines of my dress, and suddenly the darkness behind my eyelids was white and the dress didn’t matter because all the air left my lungs and the only reason I didn’t slide down to the floor was Natalya’s body pinning mine to the wall. My knees tried to shake out from under me. My head spun so fast I didn’t know which way was up.
And she just . . . didn’t . . . stop.
A split second before it became too much, though, she did stop. Her fingers slid free, and I remembered my own hand was still on her pussy. As I started teasing her again—fucking her gently with two fingers while the heel of my hand pressed on her clit—she grabbed my arm with one hand. Then the other on my shoulder, and the dampness of her fingers made me shiver. The sweet scent of pussy—hers? mine? both?—drove me wild. Every breath tasted like both of us.
“Fuck,” she whispered, digging her nails into my shoulder. “So . . . good . . .”
“Yeah?” I circled faster, and she whimpered and moved her hand back down between my legs. She started teasing me again, and I pressed back against the wall, just trying not to fall as we drove each other insane. I had visions of the wall collapsing and sending us ass-over-teakettle into the reception hall, but it held. Even as she thrust against my hand like she was fucking me, and even as my knees wobbled and hers buckled, the wall held, and we stayed upright.
“Don’t . . . stop . . .” She trailed off, then murmured something in Russian in between sharp little gasps. She was grinding against my hand so hard it must’ve been painful—just the way she liked it—and then she yelped, shuddered, melted against me. As she’d done to me, I kept going until she started to relax. Then I slowed to a stop, slipped my fingers free, and . . . and we just breathed.
The room was silent now. The air was still. Judging by the slight sting on my skin, her nails had probably left neat rows of little red crescent moons on my shoulder. I was pretty sure a seam had ripped at some point, though I had no idea on whose dress, or if it would be obvious to anyone who looked.
“Jesus,” I whispered. “That was . . .” Insane? Aren’t we at a wedding? Did we really do this? Yes, we did. And it was . . . “Hot.”
“Uh-huh. I’ve been needing to do that since you walked in,” she murmured. “That dress is . . .” She sucked in a sharp hiss as she ran her hand down my side, smoothing the rumpled fabric. “You look so hot like that.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“No wonder we ended up in here.”
“Mm-hmm.”
She licked her lips. “You have any plans after the reception?”
“I do now.”
“Good.” She kissed me again, teasing my nipple through my clothes. “How attached are you to this dress?”
“I’m . . .” I gulped. “It’s . . . replaceable.”
Her grin told me that by the time she was done with me, the dress was going to need replacing. Fine. Totally fine. She could rip this dress to ribbons if she wanted to.
But hurry up before the damned thing catches on fire.
* * *
An hour and probably half a dozen orgasms after we got to her place, we collapsed into bed. Lying on our sides, we faced each other, fingers loosely clasped between our naked bodies.
We’d managed to slip out of the wedding reception, escaping right under the studio execs’ drunk noses, and I’d left in Natalya’s car instead of Jeremy’s. He and Scott were right behind us, but the minute we were outside the confines of the country club, we took off in separate directions. Odds were, they were at one of their places and in a similar state. More power to them—they spent enough time apart.
And even if it meant bending some rules and regs, I was alone with Natalya in her bed. I couldn’t imagine any place I’d rather be.
“I think I can sleep now,” she said.
“Me too. My God.” I smoothed her hair. “And I’m sure not going to say no to spending more time together.”
“Neither will I.” She grinned. “It was a nice wedding too. Even before we ditched the reception.”
I laughed. “Think anyone noticed?”
“Who cares?” She brushed a few strands of hair behind my ear. “Let them talk.” She lifted her head and kissed me softly. “I want them all to know I’m fucking you.” Her husky, crass whisper made me shiver.
“I’m sure they’ll talk.” I licked my lips. “Besides, it isn’t like it was a big secret.”
She laughed. “No, it wasn’t.”
“Even if it was . . . I just don’t care if people know. Or if they talk.”
“Neither do I.”
We held each other’s gaze. Neither of us spoke, and I wasn’t sure what to make of that silence. Or the fact that it was comfortable in its own way. Just like dancing with her, and lounging around watching movies with her, I was perfectly comfortable lying here and—
Movement behind her startled me, and then her black lab landed on the bed and flopped down between us.
“Misha!” She laughed. “What are you doing?”
“He’s okay.” I ruffled his ears, and he panted happily. “He’s cute.”
“A little too friendly for his own good.”
“Friendly isn’t a bad thing.”
“Except when I’m trying to be next to you.”
“Oh, he’s fine.” I leaned toward her to kiss her, and Misha suddenly lurched forward and licked my face. “Oh my God!”
We both collapsed into giggles, and she handed me a couple of tissues to wipe my cheek. After I’d taken care of that, we settled on the pillows again, both petting the dog as his tail thumped my shin.
“He’s going to take up most of the bed, but . . .” Natalya hesitated, searching my eyes. “Do you want to stay tonight?”
My pu
lse surged up. We’d spent the night at my place a few times, but never hers. Why did that seem to make such a big difference? As if spending a night in my bed and a night in hers somehow sealed us together or made this bigger than it was.
And after that moment on the dance floor, the realization that this was bigger than it was supposed to be . . .
Oh, I knew this panicky feeling well. The feeling that whatever happened next could be a hell of a rush or an unmitigated disaster. The feeling that, disaster or not, something was going to happen. I might say something. Tell her how I feel. Find out if she did—or didn’t—feel the same.
Did it have to happen now, though? Sure, I’d figured it out on the dance floor, and lying here with her drove the point home, but did I have to do anything with it right now?
No. This was enough for tonight. We’d ventured into this with a combination of caution and reckless abandon, and I wasn’t sure where this part—where falling headlong into the really complicated emotions—fell into that spectrum. So maybe some more caution was in order. Figure out how I really felt. See how things went over the next few days. Maybe the next few weeks.
I smiled. “Yeah, I’ll stay. Even if he does get in the middle of things.”
She laughed softly and relaxed, as if she’d been worried about my answer. As worried about it as I’d been.
I’d stay tonight. We’d see how things went in the morning. And the rest of the day. And the next time we landed in bed together.
Maybe, when I was sure I had my feet under me and wouldn’t fall flat on my face, then I could take a deep breath.
Look her in the eye.
And tell her I loved her.
Chapter 20
When the sun rose the day after the wedding, everyone was dragging their hungover asses back to the set. Even Levi and Carter were there—they were taking a long honeymoon when we broke from filming later in the year. Dresses, suits, ties, high heels—all were a distant memory now as the actors slipped into costume and character, and the crew was back to comfortable clothes and shoes. Aside from a few people stopping to offer congratulations and some good-natured ribbing to the newly married boys, it was business as usual at Wolf’s Landing.
