“Right. But Logan is…” I trail off, smiling. “He’s everything I could ever want.”
“So, you’re going to stay in that little town?”
“I like it there, and I don’t know why that’s so hard to believe. It’s not like it’s some backwoods town down south or something. We’re about two hours from Chicago, we have two Starbucks now, and Papa John’s just started delivering. Plus, there’s a new big hospital being built, and there’s talk of an Olive Garden going in nearby.”
“Sounds…charming.”
“Grandpa wasn’t wrong picking that place to lay down roots. It’s not your thing, and that’s okay.”
“I just don’t see how you can’t like the finer things in life.” She’s not trying to be mean. Diana really can’t understand how anyone can differ from her and not be miserable.
“It was too much pressure. Too much bullshit and everyone was fake. But that’s your thing,” I add, realizing it’s a little too late to circle back around and not insult her. I don’t know what Diana actually does right now. She’s not book smart, but that doesn’t make her stupid, though according to our father, it did, and she grew up knowing she didn’t have what it takes to get into the Ivies.
What the fuck? Am I actually starting to empathize with my bitchy sister? I sip my coffee and watch her smiling down at her ring. Being a housewife to a “successful man” was never something I wanted.
I wanted to be the successful person my parents wanted me to marry. I might not be there just yet, but I’m on my way.Chapter 23LoganI wasn’t prepared for this. It was the last thing I thought would happen, but it did. And now I can’t stop smiling when I look at Danielle. She’s standing up for her sister, holding a bouquet of brightly colored flowers. Her hair is pulled back in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and she looks absolutely beautiful.
This is the longest I’ve seen her since she left this morning to get her hair done. Things ran over at the salon, and she had to run back to the room, change, and then head down to the beach with the rest of the bridal party for photos. I’m sitting in the back, and I don’t know a single person around me. Though even if I did, it wouldn’t matter.
My eyes are on Danielle and Danielle alone, as they will be the rest of the night.
Things are fucking perfect right now, and as soon as we get time together at the reception, I’m going to pull her aside and tell her everything.
This wasn’t some vacation hookup.
I don’t want to be fuck buddies, even though we’re really good at fucking.
I am in love with her, and I want to tell her how I feel just as much as I want to make love to her again. The sun is beating down on us, but the breeze makes sitting outside in dress clothes manageable. Danielle catches my eye and smiles. My cock jumps, thinking about her last night.
And this morning.
And then again this morning.
She’s so fucking hot, and my mind starts to drift to her body on mine, to the way her pert nipples feel against my tongue. To her tight, wet pussy.
I look away, shifting my eyes to the ocean behind Danielle. The ceremony cannot end fast enough. Time seems to drag on, and I’m sweating by the time we finally stand to receive the bride and groom.
Everyone heads inside for a cocktail hour before the actual reception starts, and I find Danielle in the hall waiting for me. She’s still holding her flowers and wraps her arms around my neck as soon as we’re close.
Why the hell did I wait so fucking long to make a move? Nothing has ever felt more natural than having Danielle in my arms like this.
“Want to get a drink?” she asks, standing on her toes to kiss me.
“I take it you do?” My hands settle on her waist, and I bring her hips in against mine.
“Yes, it was hot standing there, and I think my shoulders got sunburned. I didn’t think about putting sunscreen on.” She wrinkles her nose.
“Your shoulders do look a little red.”
“Dammit. Maybe you can be super sexy later and rub aloe on it for me.”
“I like when you talk dirty to me.” I push one hand over her hip and to her ass, giving it a squeeze. She brings one hand up and runs her fingers through my hair. My eyes shut in a long blink, and I tip my head down, resting my forehead against hers.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks as she continues to bring her hand down until her fingers hover over the zipper on my pants. She knows what I’m thinking about. She can feel it.