The light pink gown she wore was strapless, and the soft, flowing material swirled around her legs with each step she took toward the flower-covered archway. Pearls circled her throat and pierced her ears, and she held a small bouquet of pale pink roses in her hands. She looked graceful and radiant, and all of a sudden, he felt like an infatuated teenager experiencing his first crush.
What the hell was up with that? He’d liked plenty of girls over the years, but he’d never had a crush on any of them, which implied emotional and romantic feelings. And he didn’t do emotional and romantic. Ever.
Standing between Clay and Levi as one of his brother’s groomsmen, Mason shifted on his feet and pulled on the collar of his stuffy, buttoned-up shirt. Maybe the tie around his neck was too tight and it was making him fucking delusional. Yeah, he’d grasp on to that excuse, because he refused to allow himself to go there with his best friend—even if they’d had the hottest sex ever. And that’s all it had been, he firmly reminded himself—one tempestuous, lust-filled encounter that never should have happened between them in the first place.
But it had. And now he couldn’t stop thinking about Katrina’s uninhibited response to his kiss, his touch, and the brazen way she’d begged for it, hard and deep and rough, just how he liked it . . .
His dick twitched inappropriately in his suit pants, and knowing that Clay wouldn’t appreciate him sporting wood during his ceremony, Mason shoved those dirty thoughts out of his head and focused on Tara, who was next to walk down the aisle and took her place next to Katrina, on the opposite side of where the men were standing.
The music changed to a traditional wedding march, and all five of them glanced toward the back of the chapel as Samantha appeared at the double doors in a simple but elegant wedding gown that conformed to her curves and flared out below the knee. She, too, wore her hair up with soft strands framing her face, and Mason could have sworn he heard Clay suck in a quick, sharp breath—and couldn’t blame his brother for that uncharacteristic show of emotion. Then again, Clay had become a totally different guy since meeting Samantha—more mellow and patient and unafraid to show a softer side to his feelings when it came to the woman he loved.
Samantha’s gaze met Clay’s, and she smiled almost shyly as she seemingly glided down the rose-petal-strewn runner toward the bridal party waiting for her. Her eyes sparkled with joy and happiness, and her complexion glowed as she finally came to a stop beneath the arch of flowers and beside the man who was about to become her husband. She handed her bouquet to Katrina, then Clay took both of Samantha’s hands in his, and the minister started the ceremony.
Mason glanced past the bride and groom to Katrina, who was watching the pair with a soft expression on her face. It didn’t escape his notice that she’d avoided all eye contact with him today so far, and the fact that she was seemingly ignoring him, as if last night had never happened, irked the hell out of Mason. Especially when he couldn’t stop thinking about the encounter, and her. Not as the best friend she’d been for years, but the sensual woman who’d been his perfect sexual match.
Since Katrina hadn’t so much as glanced his way, Mason returned his attention to his brother and Samantha as they spoke their vows and exchanged their wedding bands. Then the minister finally announced that they were now Mr. and Mrs. Clay Kincaid, and Clay could kiss his bride.
His brother did so with a dramatic flourish, bending his new wife over his arm and sealing their vows with a passionate kiss that made the small bridal party laugh and cheer. When he finally let Samantha back up for air, she was grinning from ear to ear and blushing at her husband’s very public display of affection—something else that was new for Clay.
The bride and groom headed down the aisle first to exit the chapel, and Mason stepped up and offered Katrina his arm. She looked up at him with a smile, and he couldn’t quite gauge whether it was real or forced, then she placed her hand in the crook of his arm to let him escort her out while Levi did the same with Tara. Once they cleared the doorway, Katrina was quick to let him go to congratulate Samantha and Clay once again.
They all toasted with a glass of champagne, then pictures took another hour. Whenever he was required to stand next to Katrina, or touch her, she didn’t respond in any way that gave him a solid indication of her mood or feelings toward him. She just acted . . . normal. He should have been grateful that there wasn’t any awkward, day-after tension between them, especially since she also worked for him as the manager of Inked, but he found himself growing increasingly annoyed instead, because he so didn’t feel normal anymore when it came to Katrina and their friendship.
Jesus, he was so goddamn fucked, and he needed to straighten this mess out and get his head back on straight. Hopefully, his dick would follow suit.
“I’m done with the wedding party photos,” Sara, the photographer said, much to Mason’s relief. “Samantha and Clay, I’d like to get some shots of the two of you by yourself.”
The bride and groom went back into the chapel for those couple shots, and Mason decided to confront Katrina head on about last night’s hookup—and the fact that it hadn’t exactly ended well, though you wouldn’t know that by looking at her right now. Maybe if they got everything out in the open and dealt with any lingering issues, he could move the fuck on and be satisfied that nothing between them had truly changed. He needed that reassurance.
He headed over to where Katrina, Tara, and Levi were standing together, chatting and laughing while they waited for Samantha and Clay to finish up. He came up beside Katrina and lightly touched her arm to get her attention. Startled—since he’d come up from behind her—she glanced at him with wide green eyes, looking very much like a deer he’d just caught in the headlights.
Maybe she’s not as immune to me as I thought. “Mind if I talk to you privately for a minute?”
Because he knew Katrina so well, he didn’t miss the quick spark of wariness that flashed in her gaze, then she blinked and it was gone. Yeah, she was a pro at hiding her emotions when she wanted to.
“Uhh, sure,” she said with a nonchalant shrug.
She followed him down the corridor that eventually led back to the Bellagio Hotel and Casino. When he knew for certain they were out of hearing distance, he stopped and she did the same.
“What’s up?” she asked casually, like the good buddy she’d always been.
Again, her reverting back to best friends should have relieved him, but he couldn’t stop the surge of irritation that was trying to work its way to the surface. He searched her expression for something . . . more, but her features were carefully guarded and gave nothing away.
She stared at him expectantly, and he rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, suddenly feeling like
a fool. “I just want to be sure. . . Are we okay?”
Her brows rose in surprise at his question. “We’re fine. Why?”
She honestly had to ask why? As if she didn’t remember how goddamn deep he’d been buried in her pussy?
He forced his clenched jaw to relax. “Because after what happened last night, I just want to make sure we’re good.”
She reached out and patted his chest in a placating manner. “Of course we’re good,” she said much too easily. “You do this kind of thing all the time, Mason. You and me last night was just like any of your other random hookups.”
That was part of his problem, because she hadn’t been a casual fuck for him, and he couldn’t believe she thought he’d feel like she was just like those random, faceless women. And no, he didn’t miss the irony of the situation, which sucked.
“You didn’t force me into anything I didn’t want to do,” she reassured him. “The sex was good, we both got what we wanted, so don’t make it weird between us, okay?”