Down and Dirty

by Kendall Ryan

  “Uh, yeah.” I take another bite of food without tasting it.

  “Well, I wanted to cut the shit and find out, all joking aside, how you’re really doing.”

  Wait. What? Grant—grumpy-ass, growly Grant—wants to know about my emotional state? This is an unexpected development.

  I’m about to make a joke, to laugh and assure him I’m fine, but something in his eyes gives me pause. He’s being real with me, and I owe him the same.

  I take a deep breath and push my plate away. “Honestly?”

  He nods. “Of course.”

  “Things are pretty fucking confusing.”

  His expression is measured, serious. And suddenly I find myself wondering if Grant’s ever been in love.

  “Go on,” he says, nodding his encouragement at me.

  “Well, the thing was a joke, right? A drunken Vegas shenanigan. Except, for me, I’m not sure that’s all it is.”

  “Why’s that?” he asks, and my mind spins.

  Because it’s never been like this for me before. I like her as a person. As a partner. As a woman. It’s crazy how well we get along, even if there’s a lot of shit we don’t agree on. Being near her is just effortless. Take this trip, for instance. Isn’t travel supposed to be stressful? Not with Aubree. We may not agree on everything, but cats versus dogs aside, we just click. We have from that very first night in Vegas. But I can’t tell him all that.

  Finally, I say, “Because I take marriage seriously. Because I like her. Because . . . I don’t know. Maybe it’s stupid, or immature, or whatever. But I really like her. Shouldn’t that mean something?”

  Grant’s mouth presses into a line as though he’s considering the weight of my words. “Okay. That’s what I thought. I’ve only known you a short time, but I’ve never seen you blow off your commitments or not give something your best. Everything you do, you give it your all, and I respect that.”

  I nod, struck silent by the things he’s noticed about me. “What’s your take on all this?” I really don’t want to hear him caution me away from Aubree, or tell me I’m being foolish or to be careful. But he’s my captain and he’s pulled me aside, so it seems only right to get his take on things.

  Grant’s expression is stern as he meets my eyes. “It’s possible there could be blow-back on the team. Aubree’s role—the organization she works for is affiliated with the team, and our rookie has just gotten hitched . . .” He pauses, taking a breath. “But I don’t think that’ll happen. And if it was going to get out, it would have by now.”

  I feel pretty foolish that it never occurred to me. “Right,” I say with a nod.

  “But as your captain and teammate, you’ve got my support.” He nods once. “There’s one other thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t let the guys give you a hard time. Trust yourself and follow your gut. It’ll serve you well. You got me, rookie?”

  An easy smile overtakes my face. “Yes, sir.”

  The rest of the evening passes without much excitement. There’s food and cake, and some speeches by Owen’s older male relatives.

  I end up spending more time with them than I’d planned, and by the time I make it back to the villa, Aubree is asleep, curled on her side, facing away from me. I hoped for some alone time with her tonight. And before your mind jumps into the gutter—no, I don’t mean like that (although I wouldn’t have minded, for the record.) It’s just that I barely saw her today, outside of our couple of hours by the pool.

  Disappointed, I change out of my suit and slip into bed beside her, careful not to wake her.

  There’s always tomorrow, I guess.

  • • •

  I spend the next afternoon running a few more last-minute errands for the bridal party. This time, my talents have been loaned out to Becca’s mom—those talents being that I have a car and know how to use my GPS. Apparently, the florist forgot to include a corsage for Becca’s grandmother, so I went to pick up the hastily made replacement, and a few more stops besides.

  I make it back just in time for the wedding ceremony to begin.

  The guests are all seated under a huge white tent in rows of little gold-adorned chairs, and a harpist strums a soft melody that makes the whole thing feel enchanted. From the sidelines, the wedding coordinator gets us lined up in the correct order, and then I’m taking Aubree’s hand to escort her down the aisle. When I left this morning, she was still dressed in the hotel robe with her hair wet from the shower. Now she’s . . . breathtaking.

  Her pale pink dress brushes the ground and hugs her body in all the right places. I have to curl my hands into fists just to keep them to myself. I want to run my fingertips along her spine, feel the warmth of her skin, and know if she’ll shiver under my touch.

  “Made it back just in time,” she whispers as we make our way down the aisle to the front of the gathering.

  “You look incredible,” I whisper back.

  Aubree’s lips twitch, but she keeps her eyes straight ahead.

  Once the wedding party is all in place, the music changes to something more classic. Becca, in a formfitting white lace gown, begins making her way down the aisle toward where Owen is standing stock-still, gazing at her with an awe-filled expression.

  When she reaches her destination, they share a smile and a couple of hushed whispers before Becca straightens his bow tie with a smirk.

  The officiant smiles warmly at the crowd. “Friends and family of Owen Parrish and Becca Phillips, you have all been invited here today to witness and celebrate the deep, uniting love these two share.”

  One of Becca’s friends from college reads a poem I’m not familiar with. Something about finding the strength to let yourself be vulnerable. It’s not very wedding themed, but it fits somehow with Owen and Becca. For as long as I’ve known them, which admittedly isn’t all that long, I’ve seen how fiercely they love each other. And to do that, I guess you have to be vulnerable.

  The officiant recites a scripture next about a woman leaving her family to join with a man, and then the rings are brought up by Owen’s dad.

  When it’s Owen’s turn to read his vows, a huge lopsided grin overtakes his face. He launches in with barely a breath, like he’s been waiting to say these words to her forever.

  “Your strength is humbling. Your confidence is addicting. And your beauty inside and out is beyond anything I could have hoped for, or deserved in a partner.” He clears his throat. “I promise to be yours, faithfully, until my final breath. I love you now and forever, Becca.”

  When it’s Becca’s turn, she has to take a moment to compose herself and wipe her eyes, because Owen’s heartfelt words have made her cry. I look around and see there’s hardly a dry eye in the entire place.

  Then she takes a shaky breath and lifts her chin. And when she meets Owen’s eyes, something inside me twists. She’s gazing at him with so much emotion in her eyes, I feel a little breathless.

  I want that. I want someone to look at me the way Becca is looking at Owen—like he’s her whole world, and she’d be lost if he wasn’t in it.

  I hardly hear the words coming out of her mouth, but their effect on Owen is immediate. My always-down-for-a-good-time buddy, the competitive hockey player I’ve come to know this past year, is gone. In his place is a six-foot-four wall of trembling emotion. He sniffs, his eyes watering as her words move him to tears.

  “I’ll always be by your side, through every high and every low,” she says in a small, but sure voice. “When I realized the truth, that I loved you in a way that was big and messy and not something that could be contained, I was scared.” She swallows and pauses, her lip trembling. “Terrified, actually. But then you made it all better, just like you’ve done with every worry, every heartache I’ve experienced, every fear I had. I love you too, Owen.” She wipes away a tear tumbling down his cheek and smiles warmly at him.

  The officiant announces them as husband and wife, and Owen lunges forward, lifting Becca into his arms. S
he squeals with surprise, then touches his jaw, guiding his mouth to hers in a sweet, slow kiss.

  The guys on the team cheer loudly, and everyone claps.

  Then there are photos and a champagne toast, and afterward, we’re all herded into a huge ballroom for the reception.

  All throughout dinner, I’m distracted. Agitated. Aubree, on the other hand, seems calm and collected—dancing on the parquet dance floor with the girls, participating in the bouquet toss with the bridesmaids, and eating my slice of cake when I tell her I’m not interested. My knee bounces with nervous energy beneath the white linen tablecloth, and I hope she can’t tell how fucking fidgety I am.

  “Should we dance?” she asks.

  “Sure.” I stand and offer her my hand, trying to act like everything is normal.

  Aubree slides her palm into mine, and I guide us to the center of the dance floor. The happy bride and groom are moving to the music. Most of the wedding party is on the dance floor too. Becca’s bridesmaids, being led by Owen’s sister Elise, are making up some kind of coordinated dance involving several complicated steps. I think the champagne has officially kicked in.

  Grinning up at me, Aubree brings her hands to my shoulders as we begin to move.

  “Having a good time?” I ask.

  She nods. “It’s so beautiful.”

  She’s right. The wedding has been romantic and heartfelt. It also couldn’t have been any further from mine and Aubree’s drunken, giggle-filled ceremony. Becca and Owen had cried as they recited the vows they’d written themselves. Honestly, it was pretty cool to witness. Aubree deserves a wedding like this, but instead she got a quickie Vegas wedding.

  The music changes to a slow waltz. I don’t know how to waltz, but I love just having her in my arms.

  As we dance together, my gaze drifts down to hers, and I’m overcome with emotion. Despite the fact I’m planning to strip her naked (and soon, I hope), my eyes lock onto hers, communicating a promise—that I’ll always be careful with her. That I want her in a way I’ve never wanted anyone before.

  • • •

  Hours later, after what is arguably the best wedding reception I’ve ever been to, we make it back to our villa. But I’m feeling no more settled than I was at dinner. The villa is dark except for a bedside lamp that glows softly across the room.

  Pausing once we’re inside, I turn her body toward mine. “I’m not sure if I told you before, but you look incredible.”

  Aubree smiles. “You might have mentioned something.”

  She touches my chest, using me for balance as she steps out of her high heels one by one. I steady her with one hand on her waist, my mouth twitching at how our height difference becomes even more exaggerated once she’s barefoot.

  My heart thuds restlessly inside my chest. I ache for her, but I have no idea what she’s thinking. But then she lifts on her toes, bringing her mouth to mine, and I get my first indication about how she wants tonight to go.

  “Bree.” I breathe out her name on an exhale when her hands slip down the front of my chest, under my tuxedo jacket, and settle at my belt buckle.

  “Tell me if—”

  “Yes,” I blurt out gracelessly. Yes to everything.

  Aubree hums out a chuckle as I get to work unzipping her dress. Is it weird that I studied where the zipper was located while she danced with Sara? Left side, the clasp just below her elbow.

  Once it’s unzipped, the dress falls to her feet, and Aubree steps out of it. She’s so stunning in her nude bra and matching lace panties that I go momentarily still.

  It goes without saying that I don’t know what I’m doing. Everything between us is new, and so it’s pure instinct when I lift her into my arms. Aubree drapes her arms around my shoulders and wraps her legs behind my back. I hoist her higher, and when she feels the heavy weight of my arousal pressing between us, she makes a breathless sound and rocks against me, trying to get closer.

  Hell.

  My feet start moving and I carry her to the bed, depositing her ungracefully into the center. As I stand beside the bed, she attacks my belt buckle, working it free as I stare down at her in awe.

  The heavy weight of this moment is filled with expectation, but I’m not nervous. Not even a little. She sets my skin on fire with a simple touch, and I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything, including my spot on an NHL team.

  But while I’m not nervous, I am desperate. The idea of her hands on me tonight has me all kinds of lit up. We’ve touched and kissed and done a dozen other sinful things, which means that so far, tonight shouldn’t feel any different. But blood thunders through my veins because I know that tonight will change everything.

  I tilt her chin up and lean down to capture her mouth in a sweet, slow kiss. At least, I intend it to be slow, but when she parts her lips and touches her tongue eagerly to mine, I lose control.

  I crawl across the bed, Aubree scooting to accommodate me until we’re lying side by side, kissing. My hands roam over her curves, touching the soft dip in her stomach, lingering over her breasts.

  A deep groan pours out of me the second her hand slips beneath my boxers. Aubree smiles at my response.

  Biting her lip, she watches me as her hand moves slowly up and down my entire length as she draws me out of my black boxers. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

  Her cheeks are flushed and rosy. I love the idea that maybe my body excites her as much as hers does me.

  “I really love your dick,” she says next, still biting that lip as she gazes at my length, almost like she’s sizing me up.

  My entire body clenches with need. “It’s all yours,” I choke out on a halting breath.

  “Are you sure about this?” Her expression turns serious, and her hand stops against me.

  “Fuck yeah, I’m sure.”

  “I mean about me. You’ve waited . . . Are you sure I’m the person you want to do this with?”

  “Aubree, you’re it. You’re what I want. No one but you.”

  She’s breathing hard when she meets my eyes. “Because we don’t have to.”

  “Please.” The word tumbles out of my mouth without my permission. “I need it. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before.” I touch her cheek, and she gives me a nod.

  Then Aubree leans over me, her long hair brushing my chest as she kisses the hollow of my throat, my chest, down my abs.

  “This might need to be a quickie,” I warn, slightly breathless, touching her hair.

  She ignores me, continuing to kiss a path down my stomach until she reaches the trail of hair below my belly button. Then she moves even lower, and my abs tighten as she licks along my rigid shaft and makes a little happy sound.

  Fuck.

  I watch as she wraps me in her fist, stroking as she closes her mouth over me. With the perfect amount of pressure, she sucks me urgently into the depths of her warm mouth. It feels fantastic.

  And when she bobs lower, applying firm suction, my toes curl and a deep groan rumbles inside my throat. It’s so good, but I should stop her. This isn’t how I want tonight to go. But I’m powerless. Aubree’s sucking on me like I’m the best thing she’s ever tasted.

  I curse out a warning. “Baby, fuck . . . fuck.”

  She doesn’t heed my warning until I’m pulsing hotly into her mouth, spilling on my abs. There’s so much, but Aubree doesn’t stop her perfect torture, stroking and licking the whole time. I’m dizzy. Breathless.

  Holy hell. That was intense.

  “Shit. I didn’t mean to . . .” I grab some tissue from beside the bed and clean the mess off my abs.

  “Shh.” She quiets me with a soft kiss pressed to my jawline. “I wanted you to.”

  “But why?”

  “So when we have sex, you can last longer.”

  “Oh.” A hazy smile overtakes my lips. “My wife is absolutely brilliant.”

  She laughs. “Did that feel good?”

  “It felt fucking incredible. You’re amaz
ing.”

  I pull her into my arms and roll us over so I’m on top of her. I kiss her neck, her mouth, her hair. My mouth covers hers in a dizzying kiss, which Aubree returns with much enthusiasm.

  “Then this is going to feel even better,” she says, bringing one hand between us.

  I’m about to tell her I need a minute to recover, but then I realize, no, I actually don’t. Somehow I’m already straining and ready to go again. Aubree parts her thighs, rubbing her center up and down over me enticingly.

  “Condom?” I croak, my voice deep.

  “We’re married, Lovey. We don’t need one, do we?”

  For a moment, I’m speechless. I just figured we would use one. “I’m clean,” I say.

  “Me too. And I’m on the pill.”

  I recall the package of birth control pills I saw on the bathroom counter. “Whatever you want. It’s your call. If you want me to wear one, I brought some.”

  She smirks and tosses her hair over one shoulder. “I love that you came prepared, but I’m not fucking my husband with a condom on.”

  I let out a shaky laugh because Aubree is full of surprises. She’s also rubbing herself against me in the most amazingly distracting way. “I would love to feel you bare. Just didn’t know that would be an option.”

  “I trust you,” she murmurs, and my heart clenches.

  And then Aubree finds the right angle, and I join us with a long, slow thrust.

  Holy. Fucking. Shit.

  Pausing once, I pull back, hesitate for a second, and then press deeper. Aubree makes a low needy sound as pleasure shoots down my spine.

  “Oh fuck, Landon. You’re so . . .”

  I pause again, enjoying the feel of her body yielding to mine. “More?”

  Her knees widen, accepting more of me. “Yes, more.”

  I pant out hot, heavy breaths with each slide of my body inside hers. Every emotion feels raw. Every moment is drenched in pleasure. It’s almost too much. Groaning, I bury myself deep, gripping her hip in one hand until I’m fully buried in the tightest, hottest thing I’ve ever felt.

  “Tell me how it feels,” she murmurs.

  But I can’t.

  I can’t speak.