I’d been too distracted during the ceremony to pay much attention to what Brynne might be noticing. My girl could read me so well. She did not need this worry added to her plate, in addition to feeling ill already. I couldn’t allow it.
I’d thought I might somehow make it through the evening, until Sarah caught me as I was getting fresh, iced water for Brynne. She came to tell me she had to leave…with tears in her eyes. She said she hoped she could have stayed for Neil’s sake, but once she arrived and saw us both, it was just too hard. Too much. Too painful. So she must go.
And I started drinking.
“HOW’S your headache?” Gaby asked.
“Unfortunately for my head, still with me,” I answered wryly. “One of the not-so-nice parts of pregnancy, and the fact I can’t take anything for it, sucks big time.” I lifted the iced water and pressed the side of the glass to my forehead.
“Well, you look beautiful if that helps,” she said, picking at the skirt of her chiffon bridesmaid dress, “and you’ve got a pretty new dress to add to your collection of pretty dresses.” She shrugged. “I’m getting quite an assortment.” Elaina had asked both of us to be in her wedding, which landed Gaby her second stint as a bridesmaid in just seven short weeks. First my wedding, and now Elaina’s—she must be drowning in a sea of lovey-dovey, praying for a rescue.
“You wish you could be anywhere else but here, huh?”
“Of course not. I want to be here, Bree.” She gave me the look that told me so much more than the words she’d just uttered. I knew my friend, and thus was privy to information that confirmed why this would be hard for her.
“You’re a beautiful liar, darling.” I patted her hand affectionately. “But I know Elaina appreciates you being here for her.”
“No, I’m not,” she said stubbornly, taking a sip of something alcoholic that looked wonderful, and I wouldn’t be having. “I don’t want to be anywhere else than right here for Elaina on her wedding day.”
I laughed at my best friend who never seemed to acknowledge her own beauty. Gabrielle Hargreave was one absolutely gorgeous woman, with her mahogany hair and green eyes, and a body that didn’t quit, but she didn’t see it. Men panted after her all the time. And there were men here right at that very moment looking at her. Ethan’s cousin, Ivan, was one of them.
“So what’s the deal with you and Ivan?” I swung a look over to the bar where Ethan and Ivan were chatting over beers. Lots of beers. My husband might just be getting drunk at this wedding reception. We’d both been asked to be in this wedding, just as Neil and Elaina had been in ours. I guess he was letting off some steam, and he was entitled to that. During the actual ceremony he’d seemed a little tense to me. I wondered why. It was a happy time. His best friend had just married the girl he’d loved for years. Ethan’s behavior didn’t make sense, even for him.
“What do you mean?” Gaby’s eyes were now trained onto where Ethan and Ivan were ensconced. I didn’t miss how Ivan found her the instant she looked over to the bar, either. “We met at your wedding obviously as maid of honor, and best man. We—we have been forced into each other’s company.”
“Forced, huh? Ivan is so sweet...and hot. Why wouldn’t you want to be around him?” I smelled a rat with her lame explanation. And I was also fishing with my best friend. I hadn’t forgotten what Ethan had told me about the night at the Mallerton Gala when the alarm went off and everyone had to flee the building in a hurry. Ethan had seen them all mussed up like maybe they had been together. Ethan also seemed to know the type of woman his cousin would go for, and he’d told me more than once Gaby had all the right qualities.
“Well, I—I think he is—he’s very…um…Ivan is an interesting man.” She twisted her cocktail napkin into the shape of a toothpick. “He told me about all of the Mallertons at his estate in Ireland. He wants me to go back there and work on cataloging the entire collection.”
Ahhh, there it was. The nervous napkin destruction, the stammering, the blush in her cheeks, all suggesting Ethan’s prediction was dead-on target. “Back there?” I asked.
“Hmmm?” Her innocent look didn’t fool me.
“You said, ‘back there’ as if you’ve been to his Irish estate already.” I tilted my head at her. “Gaby, have you been to see Ivan’s paintings and not told your best friend about it?”
“Um…yeah, I was sent over there by Paul Langley to check out what was there.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t stay, though. The timing was—bad for me.” She took another sip of her drink and looked down, avoiding eye contact.
“Well maybe you will find a better time to go back then. I bet the paintings are magnificent if they’re anything like my Lady Percival.” I decided to let my probing go—for now. I could tell she was done with confession, and I didn’t want to hurt her by bringing up bad memories of things she didn’t need reminding.
“Yeah. I hope so.” She looked up and asked honestly, “How are you dealing with your political celebrity?”
Nice topic change, Gab. My turn to embrace avoidance now. “I try not to pay attention to it,” I lied. “We both had to put on a show, and we did. Now, I just want to move on and let my past stay there, you know?”
“I do know, my friend.” She squeezed my hand affectionately before heading off to find Benny, who was doing the wedding photographs.
“MAY I join you?” a silky voice asked at my ear.
Dillon Carrington was indeed here, just as he’d promised when we met him in Italy. He was one of Neil’s groomsmen and had all the ladies swooning. I imagined it was nothing he wasn’t accustomed to already, being a celebrated racing champion and all. The dark good looks didn’t hurt his chances, either. The man was quite simply gorgeous. But he knew it. “Sure, if hanging out with a pregnant chick cranky from a lack of wine is your thing.” I winked at him.
He laughed and pulled up a chair. “Well, you’re a stunner, pregnant or not, even if the lack of wine has made you a bit barmy. How can I help?”
I shook my head and smiled. “I’m fine, just sitting back and people-watching. It’s my favorite.”
“Really? I know people like to look at you in photographs.”
Was he flirting with me? And if so—why on earth was he paying attention to me when he could have his pick of any single women in the room. “You’ve seen my photographs, Dillon?”
He pursed his lips as if he were trying to hold back a grin. “Yes, Brynne, I have.” He bowed his head in deference. “I wholeheartedly approve.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Ethan doesn’t.”
He nodded with a tilted head as if considering. “I think I can see why he would feel that way. Ethan has territorial tendencies. He has to, in his profession, plus he’s just snatched you off the market, so I can only imagine.”
“Yeah, I know.” I drew in a deep breath and thought about it from Ethan’s perspective. What if he were the model and women saw him naked in photographs? I wouldn’t like it. Honestly, I would hate it. I decided a swift subject change was needed to lift the mood. “Where’s your pretty girlfriend, Dillon? Why aren’t you out there dancing with her right now?”
“Oh, Gwen? She’s not my girlfriend, she’s just my date for this weekend.” He flashed me a devilish grin that told me more than I wanted to know about Dillon Carrington’s sexual skill with women. He spelled TROUBLE in straight shouty caps, and Ethan was right on target about Dillon only having dates. “And I’m not dancing with her right now because your husband is.”
DILLON laughed at my reaction. Ethan was indeed, with Dillon’s “date,” the leggy Gwen, who looked like she was really into dancing with my husband. He just looked drunk. Oh, I don’t like you at all, Gwen.
“I was going to ask you to dance with me, but when I came over, you seemed like maybe you weren’t up for a spin, and I couldn’t face the possible rejection.” His amber eyes twinkled naughtily.
My decision made, I snuck a sideways glance at Ethan, and stood up to smooth my dress. “Dillon,
I’d love to dance with you.”
Dillon’s skills were such that he made me look good out there. And it was fun. When he spun me, my skirt flared out in a gauzy wave and I loved it. I felt pretty and desirable for the first time today instead of the awkward preggo bridesmaid who watched everyone else having fun while I sat around on my widening ass.
When the song changed to Bloodstream by Stateless, I thanked Dillon for keeping me company, and looked around for Ethan. It was one of my favorite songs and reminded me so much of how Ethan was with me. I think I might have inhaled you—I can feel you behind my eyes—You’ve gotten into my bloodstream—I can feel you flowing in me. Slow dancing to that particular song with anyone other than my man, was out of the question. I didn’t even see him dancing with Gwen anymore. Where in the hell had he gone? My husband should be dancing with me at this wedding. Not some random woman who was thin and beautiful… My body is changing very fast.
Quite frankly, I was irritated. He’d basically abandoned me to drink at the bar with the guys, and then went off to dance with another woman. I didn’t like feeling this way, and for the first time since I’d known Ethan, I could actually imagine he was avoiding me. But why? This morning he’d been fine, and later before the ceremony he’d come to check on me, worried about my headache. My caring, attentive man, as he always was with me. But then, after the ceremony moved onto the reception, he seemed distant, and went off with Ivan and Elaina’s brother, Ian, for some bromance time I suppose. Was it possible all the wedding hearts and love blossoms were getting to him?
Well, he was the one who’d insisted on marrying, I reminded myself. I never demanded a ring. All Ethan—all the way, with the—let’s-get-married-right-now—ridiculousness. If he was having second thoughts about his new ball-n-chain, then he was just a little goddamn late on figuring it out.
Ethan’s game at the moment? Full-blown assholery to the millionth power. And a bitter disappointment for his pregnant and crabby wife.
I kissed the bride and groom, made an excuse to Gaby and Ben about my headache, and figured I’d see the rest of the crowd tomorrow at the brunch. Right now, I was ready for my head to meet my pillow. Growing a tiny human made me require a ton more sleep than usual. As I steered for the staircase, I treated myself to a mini-tantrum—inside my head, of course—at how un-romantic this evening had been for me. Talk about a buzz-kill.
My decision in favor of sleep, over searching out wherever Ethan had gotten lost was really very easy for me. Because it’d felt like I’d been on my own all night, anyway. When I got up to our room, I changed into a warm cozy nightgown and settled into the lonely bed, feeling bereft, wondering when he would stumble up to join me. But I did know he would make it eventually.
That was the thing with us. I trusted Ethan even though he was being an ass. He knew the lay of the land with me. Honesty and trust were required, or there was nothing holding us together.
Good sex wasn’t love.
For me, honest devotion and loyalty was love.
If Ethan ever cheated on me I would walk out his door and never look back. I knew it. He knew it.
CHAPTER 11
I gave her half an hour before following her up the stairs. I wanted to wait longer so the alcohol buzz would dull my edge a bit more, making me safer to be around. But I couldn’t stand being away from her another moment. I needed my tranquillizer. Neil had said it to me before. Brynne is your cure. Nothing could bring me out of my hell when I felt like this…except her.
I breathed easier knowing I wouldn’t have to say much. Her new rule of letting me alone to house my demons in solitude helped a great deal. Everything about Brynne helped me.
When I came into the room it was dark and she was sleeping just as I’d hoped. I ditched the tux and slipped under the sheets, settling in behind her. The first inhale of her comforting scent went up my nose and straight to my brain, immediately soothing, giving me hope to make the ugliness fade away. Best I’d felt all night, the instant I notched into the back of her neck and buried my nose in her hair.
Brynne was so generous with herself to me, she never minded when I woke her up and wanted to fuck.
I needed to fuck right now.
Drown out the guilt.
WHEN I moved down the bed and pulled back the blankets, I found her swathed in some kind of nightgown that covered her up from head to toe, and of a style maybe worn by my grandmother…when she was well into her eighties. Ugly thing was a dustbin candidate for sure. Hiding all that beauty away from my eyes only frustrated me. Being half pissed didn’t help my judgment probably, but it didn’t stop me. I found the place where it buttoned down to about mid chest on her, dug my fingers in between the buttons, and split that fuckin’ rag right in two, all the way down to the hem. Her naked tits came into view first, and then the rest of her. I felt instantly better. My cock was bone-fucking hard.
She woke with a gasp and a scream.
“Shhhh.” I clamped a hand over her mouth and my lips at her jaw. I didn’t want visitors doing the ol’ “is everything all right in there?” routine at this house party, since the place was crammed to the brim with them. Her eyes flared wide, and I sense she was not happy about what I’d just done, but again, that did not deter me. “It’s just me getting rid of that ugly nightgown for you. I loathed it.” I took my hand away and covered her lips with my mouth instead. She mumbled under my kisses at first, and tensed beneath me, but once she got a feel of my tongue inside her, she responded beautifully, softening under my body, letting me play my games, and take her. “I despised that gown, but I love you.” I kissed down her throat to the hollow of her neck, onward over her sternum and then to right between her breasts. I flicked my tongue out and dragged it over to a nipple. She arched her back to bring herself closer. I swirled over her budded, pink nipple ’round and ’round until she was practically writhing beneath me.
“That’s better,” I told her. “I have to see my beautiful wife…every inch of you.”
“Ethan?”
“Shhhh, baby,” I soothed, “just feel what I’m going to give you.”
I kissed my way down, giving a caress over her stomach as I went lower. Spreading her inner thighs firmly, I opened her up and enjoyed the magnificent view. She took my breath away, and she always had. Her pussy… No words for it. I inhaled, getting drunk on her intoxicating scent. Unique to Brynne, and utterly delectable, triggering my insta-need to have her.
I licked up the inside of her thighs, giving equal attention to each one until I couldn’t deny myself another second and had to have her sweet cunt under my lips. I started slowly with little licks along her smooth folds and worked in a circle, pointing my tongue like a tiny cock. She flexed against my mouth and rocked in rhythm as I built her up. I could do this all night, for as long as she was enjoying my feasting, or told me otherwise.
The beautiful sounds of quickened breath warmed my anxiety, melting away my torment, telling me of her pleasure. I slipped two fingers inside her drenched warmth, curling them up to slide into that special little cove, with the rough patch of skin where the magic happened.
She arched sharply, moaning under the onslaught of fingers and G-spot combined with tongue and clit. An explosive mixture. I had her coming for me in under two minutes, panting out my name just as I loved for her to do. Total fucking perfect beauty.
After a second orgasm brought her shuddering underneath my tongue, she pressed a hand to the top of my head. I knew what that meant. She was ready for some cock.
I dragged my mouth off her pussy and mounted up, folding her long limbs over my arms. My girl sighed at me in impatience when I lifted her backside up to meet my cock.
I chuckled at her frustration when I slid the shaft of my cock along her clit for a few dragging strokes.
“I’m going to fuck you now, baby,” I whispered, nudging forward. Fully aware, I lost a measure of my control the instant the bell end of my cock kissed her slippery heat, I went floating off into a haze of sex a
nd lust, and superb fucking.
The tight squeeze of her grip around my cock as I slid in deep sucked the breath right out of me. From base to tip, she took me in, accepting the invasion I couldn’t curb. I’d never curb my driving need to be inside her. Impossible. My only truly safe place in the world.
As the frenzy built, I felt her clamping down with each penetration of my cock into her slick quim. She started to wheeze and circle her hips to get the friction where she needed it to be. I pushed deeper with every downward stroke, and saw the look she gets when it’s about to happen. Triumph. She got off on making me come just as much as I did with her.
My cock swelled in preparation for the blast.
Her eyes blazing up at me, I clasped her neck and held her in place, rotating my thumb around and down into her mouth. She wrapped her tongue around my thumb and sucked. My balls tightened and let go, a flood of sheer blinding pleasure washing over me as I emptied into her.
I did manage to move off to the side before I collapsed, coherent of the baby, and not wanting to crush. Brynne breathed heavily against me, silently coming down from the peak, along with my cock still pulsing inside her. I drew my hand away from her neck, down to a breast, and filled my palm. I clearly felt her heart beating beneath the super-soft barrier of flesh. My heart.
“What was that?” she asked after a moment, her expression difficult to read as her eyes burned rather green in the lamp light.
“That was you being well and truly fucked by your man, my beauty,” I teased, plumping the breast I was holding in my hand and giving her a slow grind of my hips.
“Not the fucking, Ethan. That, I understood perfectly when you ripped my nightgown off. I want to know why you abandoned me all night to get drunk at your best friend’s wedding.”
My cock withered, as I gained some clarity about what she might be feeling. There was hurt and sadness in her sorrowful eyes, and even the watery glistening of tears.