What is she thinking? Goddamn it, I wish we’d been able to finish our conversation… Does she realize that if she marries Makaio, she won’t be getting the kind of love she saw exchanged today? Or does she think I could never love her this wholly and she should back away from me?
Fuck, I sound like a pubescent girl, running through what-if scenarios and trying to anticipate what my crush is truly thinking. I have to be patient, wait for some privacy. I have to keep believing that we’re building something good.
The sun sets as everyone pitches in to tear down the folding chairs and put away the sheets. In three minutes, we assemble the portable dance floor Maxon rented. Keeley loves to dance, and as much as it makes him cringe, he’ll do it for her.
Soon, the deejay has his space set up. Earlier, the men set up banquet tables around the dining room table and on the attached lanai. We tied floral-print cloths to the legs to dress up the situation. Now, ladies bring out the food and punch, and when the music starts, we have a party.
Through the afternoon, the celebration gears up. Dancing ensues, along with bouquet tossing, garter throwing—I caught it, thank you—and lots of pictures, laughter, and toasts.
Finally, the deejay announces the last song of the night, mostly because we’re losing the sun and didn’t have any lights to string—not to mention the fact that Maxon is losing patience waiting to be alone with Keeley. It’s an Elvis classic, “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” While Harlow is playing tag with Jamie on the lawn, I grab Britta, despite her protests that she intends to clean up this mess for Keeley and Maxon so they can enjoy their wedding night without stress.
I pull her against me. “I’ve missed you all day, angel. And to answer your question, yes. I can handle not controlling how you make me feel because it’s you. I welcome it. The two of us together are stronger than either of us alone. It took me three years to believe that, but now I know it to my core. How can I help you believe that, too?”
“Griff…you’re asking me to take a leap of faith. It’s not that some part of me doesn’t want to jump with both feet, especially today with the wedding and everything. I just… Let me process that for a little while, okay?”
“Sure.” I don’t love it, but I have to respect it.
I’ve done my best not to touch her in any way that pushes her comfort level. I know I can’t force her to be ready to open her heart, and she can’t handle cheating. But I can’t handle not being with her right now. I want to touch her in any way—every way—she’ll let me that will show her how much I love her.
As we sway to the music, I wrap one arm around her waist. My other hand cradles hers. She puts her head on my shoulder. I absorb the moment. Other than sleeping, it’s the closest we’ve been in weeks. I’m loving the hell out of this. I miss her like mad. I want her so badly I can barely stand it.
“Britta?”
When she lifts her head and blinks up at me, lashes fluttering, our gazes fuse. She doesn’t answer me, just stares, as into the moment as I am.
I kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her temple.
“You’re pushing me.”
“What’s new?” I joke.
“Nothing. And everything.” When I brush my lips over her bared shoulders—first one, then the other—she shivers. A breathy protest follows. “That’s against the rules.”
“Hmm.” I rub my cheek against hers. “Just showing you how good we are together. Besides, we agreed that it’s not cheating if the intent isn’t arousal or penetration. I just want to worship you. You have to admit, this isn’t sexual.”
“No,” she says softly, painfully. “It’s romantic.”
“You didn’t tell me I couldn’t be romantic.” I smile as I turn her around the floor in my arms, then kiss her face again, this time dangerously close to her lips.
She pulls back. “What are you doing to me?”
Her voice is both jagged and pleading, but she doesn’t sound distressed. I’m curious about that. Fascinated, in fact. Something is brewing in her head, in her heart.
“I’m loving you. Is that all right?”
I kiss her jaw. I kiss her neck. I hear her draw in a sharp breath.
“I can’t exactly stop you…”
She can’t. “Would you like me to, angel?
“No.”
Oh, that’s almost victory. My gut tightens. My pulse races. Yeah, you can guess what my cock is doing.
“Then what would you like me to do?” I murmur in her ear.
“I think… Maybe you’re right. We are stronger together.” Her feet stop. Her lips part. She lowers her lashes for a moment, then meets my stare head on again. “You love me?”
Every muscle in my body seizes up. She wants to know for a reason.
“I always have.”
Britta swallows, then lifts her hand over my heart and eases closer. “Then take me home and show me how much.”
Three minutes after Britta softly delivered her bombshell, we’re speeding down the road in my sister’s rental, heading home. Well, to the Stowes’ mansion. Harlow spent last night with Keeley at the house, drinking wine and giggling, so she had her own ride at Keeley and Maxon’s place. Britta joined them for a few hours so they could give my bestie a mellow sort of bachelorette party. Tonight, my sister offered to drive my SUV to the house later and bring Jamie with her. Something about my expression or my urgency to leave the reception must have given my intentions away. Harlow offered to give my son a bath and have a slumber party with him tonight in her room.
I’ll thank her profusely tomorrow.
I clutch the wheel in one hand and clasp Britta’s with the other. Adrenaline roars through my system. And questions are hitting my brain.
The primal part of me wants to forget them until we’ve been as close as two people can be and sated our desire all night. Until we’ve cemented our bond again for good. The logical part of me is aware that probing for answers now could bite me in the ass. But I have to know.
“What changed your mind?”
“A lot of things,” she murmurs. “Mostly time and seeing how different you are. Things you’ve said. How honest you seem now. How willing you’ve been to work through our problems without burying them under sex. But you’re still pushy,” she scolds with a grin.
I send her a wry glance. “I can’t change every part of me, angel. Some things are just too ingrained.”
Her trilling laugh fills the car. “I wouldn’t know what to do with you if you weren’t forever challenging me to step out of my comfort zone. It’s one of those things that both infuriates and excites me. We’re so opposite.”
It’s true. I’m forever fascinated with how considerate and compromising she can be while gently but firmly standing her ground. Not barging and shoving is an art form I simply never mastered. I probably never will.
“And Keeley helped me clarify,” she goes on, confessing. “She gave me this song to listen to last night. Odd that music I’ve never heard could move me so much, but this tune perfectly summed up my situation. It helped me to acknowledge feelings I’ve had but couldn’t put into words. I’ve been playing it over and over since then.”
“Can I hear?”
She nods, then launches the song on her phone and flips the screen in my direction. “Lies” by Trifonic.
It’s sad, haunting, with an air of finality. This woman has been denying how much she wants her man because he left and she’s convinced he’s no good for her. Regardless of all that, she realizes she has to stop lying to herself and embrace her sweetest sin.
Me.
“That’s how you feel?”
“I have for a while. I just…didn’t know how to face it.”
“And now you’re sure about us?”
“Yes.”
She doesn’t even hesitate. Triumph spikes. I press my foot down on the accelerator a little more.
“You’re done with Makaio? You’re not marrying him?”
Britta unbuckles her seat belt and crawls across
the console, lying over my lap and plastering her chest to mine. She cups my cheek. “He doesn’t belong between us anymore. Now shut up and kiss me.”
Yeah, I’m not turning that down.