Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4) - Page 253
Stars burst behind my eye lids—I didn’t realize they’d fallen shut—and I manage to whisper his name before I shatter into a million pieces.
“Hey, kitten.” He’s in the bathroom, drying his hands with a towel, his eyes bright, a small smirk on his lips. He crooks a finger at me. “Come here.”
“We’re late.” I fuss with my dress. Crazy that we never got undressed. The shiny fabric falls flawlessly over my hips and thighs. No sign that he pushed it up and made me come on the kitchen counter, then fucked me on the table.
Oh God, that was…
“Embers.” He catches me in two strides, throwing the towel on the rack, and cups my face in both his hands. “Look at me.”
“Why?” I have no choice by to lift my eyes to his, and I tumble into their depths—a starburst of moss green against smoky gray with flecks of gold. It’s dizzying, so I place my hands on his hips to steady myself.
“Because.” He leans in and drops a soft kiss on my mouth. So warm. So unbearably sweet and full of promises of tenderness that a knot forms in my throat.
“Now you’ll tell me you’ve never done this before, either,” I whisper, my voice rough. Because I sure as hell haven’t, and it makes me nervous. I’m falling deeper and deeper for him. “And I…”
“I haven’t,” he says, his hands shifting on my cheeks, cradling my jaw, his gaze clear and honest. “Any of this. And certainly not this.” He bestows one more kiss on my lips, the briefest caress, and there comes that faint smile no one can fake. Boyish, innocent, full of happiness.
Shooting me straight through the heart.
We’re late for the wedding, but right now I don’t care. I smile back and we just hold on to each other.
Could he be serious about this? About wanting to be with me? Give up on one-night stands, stop hooking up with the hordes of girls lusting after him? How can I believe a sex god like Jesse Lee will keep his word?
Has he even given me his word?
Does it matter?
“You’re trembling,” he whispers, and he pulls me to him, crushes me to the wall of his muscular chest. His heart thuds steadily against my ear. “Are you okay? Is it because of wedding reception?”
I say nothing, letting him think that’s the cause. I’m afraid, but the reception is the last thing on my mind right now.
Though that’s going to change, soon. The reception. People. Noise.
Oh God, why did I ever agree on going?
Well, at least it will take my mind of the fear of falling for Jesse and the mess I’m getting myself into. Have gotten myself into, ever since I met him.
“Let’s go,” he says, squeezing me one last time but keeping one arm around me as he starts walking us to the living room. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you down.”
At the reception, or in this thing happening between us?
Don’t ask, Amber.
I’ve always been insecure, and frankly, bullying hasn’t helped things, but I have to at least hide it. Get over it. Fight it. Take this a day at a time, read nothing into the fact he’s still holding on to me as I grab my purse and wedding gift, and we make it out the door. That he holds my hand down the stairs and while waiting for a cab.
Or even that once in the back seat of the car he puts his arm around my shoulders and kisses my temple, then rests his cheek on my hair, rubbing it like a big cat.
Read nothing into this at all, and live for the now.
If only my heart would listen.
The wedding is being held at the Gates of Heaven shelter in James Madison Park, near Lake Mendota. The shelter itself is a beautiful nineteenth-century synagogue, and when I see a crowd at the entrance, my stomach sinks.
“Do you think we missed the wedding?” I ask as Jesse pays the cab and we get out.
“Nah. Everyone’s looking this way. I think the groom and bride have been delayed.”
He’s right. Besides, it seems we’re doing this out in the open. There are flower stands with ribbons fluttering in the breeze set on the side of the synagogue, on the grass, lit up with spotlights. As the evening light is fading, the flowers seem to float on the air and their scent drifts over us, ghostly.
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