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Three is a War

Page 21

by Pam Godwin


  He has full access to my body and takes advantage. Cradling my back with his chest, he nibbles at my throat and swirls his fingers through my wet heat until pleasure weighs down my bones.

  The lips on my neck are relentless as he presses his wicked touch inside me. Sinking to the deepest knuckle, he grinds in and rubs the spot behind my pelvic bone as his thumb plays with my clit.

  The first orgasm hits hard and fast, priming me for another. I squirm on his lap, and he pins me tight against him, thrusting his hand and holding me on the precipice.

  “I love to feel you come.” The thickness of his voice makes my body ache, but deeper and longer lasting is the grip he has on my heart.

  He continues to finger me and buries his face against my neck, sliding his cheek against mine, his hips moving just enough to let me feel how badly he wants me.

  Desire hot in my veins, I come again, this one harder, tighter, robbing my breath.

  “Trace!” I writhe on his hand, my nipples pointing skyward, which he doesn’t hesitate to torture with a brutal pinch.

  When he finally removes his fingers, he wraps a hand around my throat, angling my head back to attack my mouth.

  His kiss is raw and aggressive as he releases himself from his pants. “Sit on my cock.”

  Breathless and shivering, I reach beneath me, curl my fingers around the hot length of his erection, and stroke. He could easily haul me down and slam himself to the root, but he seems utterly lost in the kiss. Lips raw and tongue deep, he focuses all his attention on my mouth.

  I caress his cock through the kiss, but eventually I can’t wait any longer. Dropping my head back on his muscled shoulder, I position him against me and slide down on his hardness. We both moan, and his hands sweep over my chest, my hips, and my pussy.

  He widens my thighs and pushes deep, rocking into me, his body tightening and shaking around me. I reach between our legs and play with his balls as he thrusts deeper, faster. With a groan, he returns his lips to my neck, biting and licking and pushing me closer to oblivion.

  I moan in the back of my throat with every grinding flex of his hips. Blissful fulfillment waits on the peak, luring me, demanding my surrender. But it’s his fingers wrapping around my throat, the perfect pressure of his iron fist, that unravels me.

  My legs fall open to the thick, relentless slide of his cock, and I scream, shuddering in ecstasy. As he joins me, it’s with my name on his breath, his muscles clenching and releasing and fingers pressing against my skin with unbridled passion.

  After, I lift off him, twisting to straddle his lap. Then I kiss him the way I want to, with playfulness and affection, sliding my hands beneath his t-shirt to molest all that hot skin over steely muscle. His lips taste like untamed love and his breaths fill my lungs with the strength of his happiness.

  “It’s always going to be like this, isn’t it?” I trail a path of kisses across his bottom lip.

  “Yes.” Dauntless and inviolable, his confidence is my sanctity.

  “I will always, always love you.” I kiss him again. “Down to the very depths of you. Thank you for showing me how to smile again.”

  The restaurant erupts in rowdy cheers as Trace kisses me long and hard on the stage at the center of the dining room. You may kiss the bride reverberates through the chambers of my heart, expanding my chest to accommodate the overwhelming swell of emotion.

  We did it.

  We’re married.

  It’s so surreal I continue to stand in place after he jumps down and holds up his hand. The hard, shiny band of platinum on his finger is made of elegant, unbending strength like the man I chose it for.

  He’s wearing a wedding ring.

  This obscenely gorgeous man in a tailored black tuxedo with arresting blue eyes is my husband.

  I pinch myself to make sure it’s real.

  He transformed Bissara into an opulent seating room for the wedding ceremony and stood beside me on the stage encased in the beam of light as we made our vows. There’s no place in the world I would’ve rather married. He fell in love with me when he first saw me at the restaurant. I fell in love with him while I danced on this stage. He proposed to me right here in this dining room.

  This is our home.

  “Mrs. Savoy.” He grips my hand and pulls me to the edge. “You owe me a dance before I take you upstairs and rip that dress from your hot little body.”

  There’s no way I’m letting him destroy this dress. The sleeveless sweetheart neckline and heavily embellished bodice hugs my frame like a dream. Ruffles of white lace tumble from my waist in a romantic A-line. The layering of the skirt gives it a bohemian feel with the illusion of a back chapel train. It flows around my legs without tangling, making it ideal for dancing. He did good. Better than good. I couldn’t have picked a more perfect dress.

  I lean toward him, and he clutches my waist, swinging me off the stage. Then we’re moving, caught up in a chaotic whirlwind as two-hundred wedding guests make their way to the ballroom.

  He didn’t close the gaming area, so there are unfamiliar smiles everywhere, people crowding around to check out the excitement.

  We wind through the maze of clinking, flashing slot machines, stopping every few feet for handshakes, hugs, and tearful congratulations from wedding guests and casino patrons. It takes forever to walk such a short distance, but Trace holds tight to my hand the entire time.

  Until he doesn’t.

  He jerks away from me, his attention on something in the crowd.

  “Trace?” I grip his arm, following his gaze, unable to see whatever it is he’s looking for.

  “I need to…” He sprints away, pushing through the throngs of people in his hurry.

  My stomach hardens, and a chill skates down my spine. What the hell is happening?

  I crane my neck, holding my breath. That’s when I see it.

  The back of a black leather jacket.

  The military-style cut of familiar brown hair.

  Trace is chasing Cole.

  My heart falls with an agonizing thud. I scoop it up, along with layers of ruffled lace, and chase them.

  Evidently, the sight of a runaway bride makes people scatter, because the crowd parts as I barrel forward, hugging the skirts around my thighs. I spot Trace at the entrance twenty feet away. He shoves his way through the doors and vanishes into the night.

  I pick up my pace, pulse racing and lungs burning. I have no idea what I’ll find when I get there, but my eyes are already aching with tears.

  Just inside the lobby, I reach the exterior glass door and slam to a stop, spotting them instantly. My hand flies to my mouth, stifling a whimper.

  Cole’s motorcycle is parked on the curb of the circle drive. He and Trace stand beside it, locked in an embrace. Trace’s head is lowered, his mouth moving at Cole’s ear as Cole nods and hugs him tighter.

  Silent tears stream down my face. I press my palm to the glass, dying to go to them. But I won’t. I never want to come between them again.

  Cole’s hair is shorter, his brawn impossibly more defined. He looks harder, older, but healthy. I wouldn’t dare say he’s happy, but the set of his shoulders shows purpose, his posture radiating determination. His eyes… I can’t see…

  He lifts his head and stares directly at me. I stop breathing, and my hand slides off the window, falling to my side.

  Trace releases him, and they step back. Cole rests his fingers in his jean pockets, scans my wedding gown from chest to toes, and returns to my eyes.

  “Be happy,” he mouths and gives me a soft dimpled smile.

  My lips curve upward, despite the terrible tremble in my chin. “Be safe.”

  He stares at me as I stare him, suspended in a moment as defining as the day we met. Our story began and ended with a smile, every second in between marked with love.

  He looks away first and turns to Trace. They exchange more words, their postures relaxed and eyes bright.

  Without another glance in my direction, Cole straddl
es the motorcycle and rumbles out of my life the same way he rumbled into it.

  I feel the loss all over again, but it’s swaddled in an unexplainable sense of peace. I watch the fade of his taillight long after the darkness swallows it, and so does Trace.

  Eventually, Trace turns to me and shakes his head with a concerned look on his face. He strides in my direction and steps inside.

  “Sorry I left you standing there.” He pulls a tissue from his pocket and wipes my cheeks. “You messed up your makeup.”

  “I don’t care about the makeup.” I grip his wrist, stalling his hand. “You invited him?”

  “Yes. I thought you both might need closure.”

  “I know you told me you’re still friends, but witnessing with my own eyes…” My chest hitches with a ragged breath. “It’s the best wedding gift you could’ve given me. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He pockets the tissue, studying me closely. “You can ask me what we talked about.”

  “If I need to know, I trust you’ll tell me.”

  He cradles my face in his hands and leans his forehead against mine. “I love you, Danni Savoy.”

  “I love y—”

  He kisses the words from my mouth with a passion that choreographs the dance of my heart.

  Hours later, after dinner and speeches and cake, we stand at the center of the dance floor, surrounded by friends and family. Bree and my parents, colleagues and old neighbors—everyone is here.

  “This is it, my tiny dancer.” He trails his fingertips across my cheek. “Your one and only chance to put a dance in the history books of best-ever first dances. No pressure.”

  “I’m not sweating it.” I might be sweating it.

  A few minutes ago, I gave the DJ a song title, one I didn’t have to think about. I meet the DJ’s eyes, letting him know I’m ready. Then I turn back to Trace and smile.

  The piano harmony of Yours by Ella Henderson spirals around us, pulling us closer, chest to chest, hand and hand, hearts beating.

  “You’re my waltz.” I kiss his neck, whisper in his ear, “I’m yours.”

  His chest rises and falls on a deep inhale. Then we move together, our love leading the steps, guiding our breaths, carrying us elegantly, fluidly across the floor with sweeping turns.

  I cling to him, all wide shoulders and arctic eyes, lost in his depths. This is the dance, the one I’ll always remember. To everyone watching, it’s a waltz—the controlled, pronounced, wave-like rise and fall. But to us, it’s the beginning of forever, the swelling and contracting of passion, with our hearts thundering at the center of the turns.

  “I’ll never be finished with you.” He yanks me close, his breath at my ear.

  “Good thing this is a forever thing.”

  The moments, the memories, the pain, and the happiness—I’m grateful for it all.

  Everything led me to him.

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  DARK ROMANCE

  DELIVER SERIES

  Deliver #1

  Vanquish #2

  Disclaim #3

  DARK PARANORMAL ROMANCE

  TRILOGY OF EVE

  Heart of Eve (FREE)

  Dead of Eve #1

  Blood of Eve #2

  Dawn of Eve #3

  STUDENT-TEACHER ROMANCE

  Dark Notes

  ROCK-STAR DARK ROMANCE

  Beneath the Burn

  ROMANTIC SUSPENSE

  Dirty Ties

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  An Infidelity World book

  Incentive

  Go To War by Nothing More

  This Is What You Came For by Calvin Harris

  Talking Body by Tove Lo

  Lovesong by Adele

  Back to Black by Amy Winehouse

  Wait (The Whisper Song) by Ying Yang Twins

  Yeah by Usher

  Lose My Breath by Destiny’s Child

  Booty by Jennifer Lopez

  You Don’t Know by Katelyn Tarver

  Where’s My Love by SYML

  Honest by The Chainsmokers

  XO by Beyoncé

  Let It Go by James Bay

  What Is Love by V Bozeman

  Whenever, Wherever by Shakira

  Yours by Ella Henderson

  New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Pam Godwin, lives in the Midwest with her husband, their two children, and a foulmouthed parrot. When she ran away, she traveled fourteen countries across five continents, attended three universities, and married the vocalist of her favorite rock band.

  Java, tobacco, and dark romance novels are her favorite indulgences, and might be considered more unhealthy than her aversion to sleeping, eating meat, and dolls with blinking eyes.

  EMAIL: pamgodwinauthor@gmail.com

  Website: https://www.pamgodwin.com

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