The Wedding Wrecker, page 11
“You thought kissing me was right?”
“It certainly felt that way,” I admitted.
Emma swallowed hard. “Sometimes, I wonder if you’re really pretending. Sometimes, it feels pretty damn real.”
My pulse kicked up. "Does it?"
"You know it does. That first kiss when you showed up, maybe that was just for show. But today, at the tasting..."
"What about it?"
"It felt different. Like maybe you weren't just pretending to be possessive."
I reached out to brush hair from her face, noting how her breath caught. "Maybe I wasn't."
"James..."
"Maybe we should work on our technique,” I suggested. Was the suggestion just about the oldest trick in the book? Yeah. But fuck if I cared. I wanted her lips on mine again. I couldn’t muster the willpower to care if I was being obvious about it or not.
Emma raised an eyebrow, but I saw how the pace of her breathing had increased. “You can’t think I’m really going to fall for that…”
“A real couple would have all kinds of kisses,” I continued. “Possessive ones, passionate ones, casual ones. It might look suspicious if we have to kiss in front of people again and don’t do the right kind.”
“I feel like you’re full of shit.”
“You can feel how you want. I happen to be a professional, and I’d prefer to know we’re prepared for any situation.”
Emma rolled her eyes, lips slightly pursed in a smile. “So you think we need to kiss here… lying in bed… and you think that will somehow prepare us for any situation?”
I traced my thumb over her bottom lip. "That’s right. It wouldn’t mean anything. We’re both professionals, and we’d only be putting in the work to do our jobs convincingly.”
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, catching the edge of my thumb. The small contact sent fire through my veins. “I suppose if we can both agree it doesn’t mean anything… I could let you try some practice kisses. Just for the sake of appearances, of course.” Her voice had dropped low, all breath and heat against my face.
I closed the distance between us slowly, giving her time to change her mind. When my lips touched hers, she made a small sound that shot straight through me.
This kiss was different. The others had been for show, even if part of me had deeply enjoyed them.
This was heat and need and three years of wanting.
Emma's hands slid into my hair as she pressed closer. I groaned at the feel of her body against mine, all soft curves and thin clothing barely separating our bodies. When her leg hooked over my hip, I rolled us so she was beneath me.
"James," she gasped as I kissed down her throat. “What context would we use this in, exactly?”
“This would be…” I said, pausing with a small smile. “Unexpectedly interrupted while having an intimate moment.”
Her lips curved at the corners. “And you think we’re really going to need to demonstrate this one in front of anyone?”
“Alright,” I said. “Here’s our casual kiss. No tongue, okay?”
She nodded, biting her lip.
I hooked my index finger under her chin and planted a soft kiss on her lips. A moment later, her tongue flicked out playfully, teasing my lower lip.
I laughed. “Bad girl. That will be the playful kiss. Let’s try casual again. Keep that tongue in your mouth this time.”
“Yes, sir,” she said sarcastically.
I pressed my lips to hers, and then she threaded her hands behind my neck and pulled me deeper, kissing me hard, then biting my lip. “Oops,” she whispered. “Was that too much?”
My hand slid up her shirt, my calloused fingers gliding over smooth, warm skin. “That depends… if your goal is practice? Yes, definitely too much. If your goal is to make me want to fuck you until you moan my name again and again? You’re getting close.”
She let out a soft gasp, arching her back against my touch and pulling me deeper into her hips with the leg she had hooked over me. “James…” she breathed.
"Tell me to stop."
Instead, she rocked herself, sliding her warmth across my cock and drawing a groan from me. I ground against her, loving how she whimpered and pulled me closer.
Her phone started buzzing.
"Ignore it," I muttered against her skin.
It buzzed again. And again.
"It's Maggie," she breathed. "She'll just keep calling."
"Fuck." I pressed my forehead to hers, trying to catch my breath.
"I should..." She gestured vaguely at her phone.
"Yeah." I rolled off her, already missing her warmth. "I'm going to shower."
I practically fled to the bathroom, turning the water on cold. It didn't help. All I could think about was Emma's soft sounds, the way she'd felt under me.
I gave up on suppressing my arousal and turned the shower handle to warm.
The water heated up, and so did my thoughts. I remembered the curves of her body in that silk top, how she'd arched when I kissed her neck. I pictured where things might have gone if we weren’t interrupted.
My hand wrapped around my cock as I imagined her legs around my waist, her nails on my back.
I stroked myself, remembering the little gasp she'd made when I ground against her. In my mind, I was still on top of her, but now I was sliding into her tight heat while she moaned my name.
"Fuck," I groaned, speeding up my strokes. I imagined her coming apart beneath me, crying out as she clenched around me.
My release hit hard, Emma's name on my lips.
As I stood under the spray, catching my breath, reality crashed back in. I was investigating her sister's fiancé. I didn’t believe in love anymore. I wasn’t capable of trust.
I was damaged goods, and a girl like Emma would never settle for somebody who could only give her scraps of himself.
This thing between us was doomed before it ever started, and yet…
I wasn’t sure I had the strength to stop myself if this kept up. She was too damn tempting. I needed to figure something out, though, or I was going to lead us both to disaster.
16
EMMA
"You made out with the wedding wrecker?" Maggie's shriek made me hold the phone away from my ear. "The same guy who destroyed your career? The one you had hot wine cellar sex with right before he ruined everything? Actually, no. We're doing this face to face. FaceTime me right now."
"I'm in bed," I whispered.
"Even better. I want to see your guilty face when you tell me everything. And maybe catch a glimpse of Mr. Muscles in the background."
"He's in the shower." But I switched to video anyway, if only to see Maggie's expression when I filled her in.
Her face popped up on screen, brown eyes wide with excitement. Maggie and I were college dorm mates, way back when I was taking business classes and still thought I wanted to run a real estate empire. She took most of the same classes, and now she was using her business degree to run a coffee flavor-blasting business from her garage. Basically, she worked up delicious mixtures that came in “shot tubes,” which were, of course, biodegradable. Her customers could dump one into their coffee to supercharge it.
The business wasn’t exactly an overnight success, but she seemed happy enough and said this was shaping up to be her best year yet.
She pushed up her glasses, leaning closer to the camera and squinting, as if she was inspecting me for clues. Maggie looked a bit nerdy at first glance—with big eyes and a rounded face with full cheeks. Beneath the bookish exterior, she was wild, and the life of every social event I’d ever been to with her.
"Okay, spill,” she said. “Start with how he showed up. And don't skip the abs—are they still spectacular?"
I glanced at the closed bathroom door, where the shower was still running. "I'm not discussing his abs."
"So that's a yes." She leaned closer to her phone. "Your face is all flushed. Oh my god, did you just—"
"No! We just... kissed."
"Just kissed? Your lips are swollen. That was not 'just' kissing." Her words took on a British accent. “You just got propa’ ravaged, darlin’. You sure you aren’t pregnant already?”
I touched my mouth self-consciously. "It got a little... intense."
"Define intense. And why did it stop? Please tell me you're not still hung up on the Ireland thing."
"He explained about his wife—"
"Woah, woah. Back the train up. Rewind the tape. Wife???”
"Ex-wife. She cheated on him. With his brother."
"Holy shit."
"Yeah." I lowered my voice. "That's why he does what he does. Exposing cheaters and otherwise sneaky, undeserving people at weddings. He thinks it's better than letting people go through with the vows."
"Okay, that's... actually kind of noble? In a completely fucked up way? Also explains why he's so hot. Tragic backstory and hot guys go better together than peanut butter and jelly—and you know how much I respect the PB&J, so I don’t say that lightly."
"That's the problem. He makes sense when he explains it. And then he kisses me and I can't think at all."
"Sounds like you need to kiss him more. You know, for clarity."
"This isn't funny."
"It's a little funny. You're sharing a bed with the gorgeous guy who broke your heart, and now you're getting all hot and bothered about his tragic past. It's like a Hallmark movie but with more sexual tension." She paused. "How is the shared bed thing going? Have you guys had your ha ha, oops, did I just penetrate you moment yet?”
"Um, I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing. Although, I did kind of... mount him in my sleep once."
Maggie choked on whatever she was drinking. "I'm sorry, what?"
"I was asleep! And he was just... there. All warm and... there. I guess my body was acting out my dream or something. I can’t explain it, and I’ve never had something like this happen before."
"Please tell me there's video."
"I hate you. And of course there’s not video. Why would there be video?"
"No, you don't hate me. But seriously, Em. What are you going to do? You've got what, another week of sharing a room with him? Plus all those cute winter activities you planned..."
"Don't remind me. There's the sleigh ride tomorrow, and ice skating after that..."
"Ooh, lots of opportunities for him to wrap his arms around you. Show you how to balance..."
"I know how to ice skate."
"He doesn't need to know that."
The shower cut off. "I have to go."
"Use protection! Actually, why bother? It’s not every day you have a chance to get injected with premium, top-shelf genetic material. Think of the beautiful babies his batter would make. And Emma?"
"Yeah?"
"Maybe this time actually talk to him before jumping straight to the naked parts?"
"I'm hanging up now."
"Love you too. Call me after the next makeout session, or if you want to talk baby names!"
I ended the call just as the bathroom door opened. Steam billowed out around James as he emerged in just his sweats, water still beading on his chest and abs that were, fine, yes, still spectacular. A drop of water rolled down his stomach, disappearing into the waistband of his sweats, and I forced myself to look away before I did something stupid. Like lick it off.
Did hot guys not know how towels worked? Or was he just hoping the whole glistening wet body with rivulets of water draining down toward his waist would do dark things to my mind?
He glanced at me and I immediately snapped my eyes shut, doing an unconvincing job of pretending to already be asleep.
Why was I pretending to sleep?
Between the suddenness of what had happened and Maggie’s call, I hadn’t even had time to process what I really wanted.
Had I wanted… that to continue? My body certainly had. Hell, I could still feel a warm, pleasant pulsing between my legs and a tingling aura of arousal thumping just beneath my skin. But where did that moment lead? Would it mean taking us from pretend to real? And was I actually willing to put even a small piece of my heart in his hands again after how the last time played out?
Or were we planning to classify it as casual fun? I could do casual fun. In theory. Would I really be able to do things like that with James and not start getting confused, though?
My eyes were squeezed shut as I heard the tantalizing sound of his towel dropping to the ground. Despite my better judgment, I opened my eyes and turned to look.
And goodness… His ass was a thing of pure beauty. His back was broad and tapered. His legs were long and chiseled. He lifted one leg and stepped into a thin pair of gray boxer briefs, and then began to turn.
I whipped my head and body around so fast I might have given myself whiplash, slammed my eyes shut, and tried to lay perfectly still.
Who just drops their towel when their not-girlfriend is laying in a bed right there? So what if I was pretending to be asleep?
The only explanation was that he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew his ass was the stuff of dreams, and he was hoping I looked. It was the only explanation.
Bastard.
I felt him slide into the blankets beside me. I could almost picture him lingering there, half propped-up as he faced me and considered saying something. I waited, heart hammering, but he didn't reach for me. Didn't try to continue what we'd started.
I almost wanted him to.
And then I felt him lay down fully.
Part of me was relieved. The smarter part of me. The part that remembered how much it hurt last time.
The rest of me wanted to climb on top of him and pick up exactly where we'd left off.
I heard him shift, followed by a soft sigh. The mattress dipped as he rolled over, and I held my breath, wondering if he'd reach for me.
He didn't.
I lay there in the dark, hyper-aware of every movement, every breath. The distance between us felt both too big and not big enough.
Eventually, his breathing evened out. I stayed awake far too long, wondering if he was really asleep or just pretending like I was.
I was sixteen again, learning to drive stick shift in my dad's ancient Volkswagen. The gearshift kept sticking, and I couldn't get it into first gear no matter how hard I pushed and pulled.
"You have to be gentle with it," Dream-Dad said from the passenger seat. "Feel for the sweet spot."
I jerked the stick back and forth, growing frustrated. The car made strange sounds and shook, almost as if it was laughing at my futile attempts to figure this thing out. "It won't go!"
"Maybe try rotating it a little," Dream-Dad suggested. "Sometimes you have to work it around until you find the right position."
I tried moving the stick shift in circles, but that just made the shaking and laughing worse.
The shifter was warm against my hand. What a nice feature. I’d heard of heated seats and heated steering wheels. But heated stick shifts? Fancy. My hands were cold. So I wrapped my other hand around it, just to enjoy the warmth.
Even if I couldn’t quite get the car to move the way I wanted, there was something I enjoyed about playing with the thing. I felt my Dream-Dad fade out of existence, because that sort of thing definitely happened all the time. It was just me and the stick shift, which I had given up understanding. I was just absently rubbing my fingertips over the tip of it now as my hand slid up and down its length.
The car had stopped shaking now and it was almost like it was trying to talk to me.
Yes, car? Are you trying to explain the secrets of the stick shift to me?
"Emma."
The car knows my name. That’s creepy.
"Emma, sweetheart..."
And now it’s calling me sweetheart. And its voice is honestly really hot. Why is my car’s voice—
My eyes flew open. Early morning light cut through the window in buttery shafts, illuminating a very amused-looking James. I was pressed against his side with my face on his chest, and my hands were...
"I can’t say I’ve ever had a woman try that exact technique on me?" he said, voice rough with sleep. “But I’ll give you an A+ for effort. It felt like you were trying to get me to shift into gear or something. I’d say we’re in second or third gear already, maybe we’ll hit fourth if you keep it up.”
That's when I realized my hands were wrapped around something that definitely wasn't a gearshift. Something hard and—oh god. Based on how long his sweats had been tenting, I must have been "adjusting" things for a while.
"How long have you been awake?" I squeaked.
“Not long,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes and smirking. For some reason, my hands were still on his cock. I could feel it pulsing beneath my fingers and had to fight the urge to bite my lip and keep going.
Oh God. What the hell is wrong with me?
I jerked my hands away, looking at them as if they were possessed.
“I have to say,” James continued. “I’m starting to really enjoy sharing a bed with you. Your morning hospitality is absolutely stellar. And the surprise aspect?” He did a “chef’s kiss” motion, smiling wider. “I can’t wait to see what treat you have in store for me tomorrow. Whispering sweet nothings in my ear? Or maybe you’ll be dreaming you’re making clay pots?” He cupped his hands around a phantom clay pot and moved them up and down, as if his implication wasn’t already clear enough.
"This never happened!" I scrambled out of bed, nearly falling in my haste.
"Oh it definitely did. And I plan to cherish the memory—"
I slammed the bathroom door on his laughter, sliding down to sit on the floor with my face in my hands.
I might actually have to go ask the front desk if they had those handcuffs after all.
17
EMMA
For the first time since James had inserted himself into my life here, I’d managed to slip away for half the day on my own. I had a sneaking suspicion he had only let it happen because he was trying to get some work done as well. In other words, he was probably snooping around and trying to look for information on whether or not he was going to have to wreck this wedding.
