Kissing Kennedy (Claimed 4)

"Wow," I whisper the next morning, staring shamelessly at Asher as I pull into the parking lot of the church and park. He's pacing outside the front doors like he's the nervous groom. He looks amazing and amazingly uncomfortable in his tux. The black fabric hugs his body to perfection, but he keeps running his fingers beneath the bowtie and scowling at the ground. When his mouth moves, I laugh quietly. He's cursing it out, I think.

"Elliot must be here already," Sophie says from the passenger seat when she spots him. She rode with me since she and Trick will be leaving together from here. "He's probably going to try to see me."

She doesn't sound very annoyed by the prospect even though she's the one who wanted to keep to tradition and not see him before the ceremony. I think she's regretting her decision. She misses him, which is adorable because they've been texting all day.

Asher spots her in my car and then his eyes drift to me. He stops pacing and goes incredibly still. For a long moment, we stare at each other through the windshield, neither moving, neither blinking. My heart flutters and races at the intense look on his face. Breathlessness creeps over me.

When it storms on the coast, wind rips through the water, sending waves to crash into and batter the stalwart shoreline. The marriage of fierce strength and stark surrender at the point of impact is breathtaking. Asher reminds me of that moment of impact. Finding beauty in something so fierce is unexpected, but he is so damn beautiful.

The doors of the church swing open behind Asher, shaking him out of immobility. My entire soul quivers with anticipation when he heads in our direction, his feet hitting the sidewalk with determination.

Sophie hops out to meet him. "Is Elliot here already?"

"Yeah, he's inside talking to the preacher," Asher says.

I close my eyes, reveling in the way his voice washes over my senses. It's rough and gritty, like the gravel strewn throughout the parking lot. But it strokes something deep inside me, stoking to life a little fire in my womb.

I take a deep breath, grab my bag, and climb from the car, circling around the hood toward them. Asher's eyes immediately come to me, raking like fire down my body.

"Asher, this is my friend, Kennedy Thorne," Sophie says, introducing us. "Kennedy, this is Elliot's brother, Asher."

My brain screams hello, but I can't seem to make my mouth work to respond. I take a step forward to shake his hand, but like a total dork, I stumble in my heels as if I've never worn them before.

"What the fuck?" Asher growls when my leg peeks out of the slit in my dress. His gaze snaps back to mine, searing me. His piercings are missing today, replaced with clear retainers. "Your dress is torn."

"What?" Sophie spins toward me, giving me a once over. "Where?"

"Her fucking leg is sticking out."

My cheeks heat, my heart slamming against my ribcage. Having him focused on me so completely is doing crazy things to my insides. Why can't I say anything?

"Oh. It's made that way," Sophie says, relaxing again.

"They made her dress with a tear in it?"

"It's not a tear, Asher. It's a slit," Sophie says, biting her lip like she's trying not to laugh.

"It's indecent. I don't like it." He glares at me like it's my fault or something.

"Then I guess it's a good thing it's not up to you, isn't it?" I mutter, scowling at him. He may be hot, but he's rude. The dress is beautiful. It's an A-line off-the-shoulder dress with a ruffle split front and a ribbon-like belt. The light fabric flows to the floor in a sweep train with a slit all the way up to my thigh. It's elegant and daring, but not even close to indecent. I feel feminine and confident in it.

"I'm burning it when I get it off you," he growls, glowering at me.

I gape at him for a moment, too shocked to respond. Who does he think he is, threatening to burn my dress? And he has another think coming if he thinks he'll be involved in getting it off of me after the wedding. He'll be lucky if he survives the wedding at the rate he's going.

"Everyone will be staring at you," he complains. "It's bullshit."

I slam my hands down on my hips, scowling daggers at him. "I don't know wha–"

Sophie slaps her hand over my mouth before I can give him a piece of my mind. "Can you go make sure Elliot behaves while we get my dress inside?" she says to Asher, her tone sweet as can be. "He isn't allowed to see it until I'm walking down the aisle."

Asher glares at me for another minute before jerking his chin in a nod. He spins on his heel and stomps off, muttering under his breath until he's out of earshot. I can't hear what he's saying, but I'm guessing by the tone of his voice that he's still complaining about my dress as if, God forbid, someone sees my shoulders or my leg. What century does he live in?

I can wear a flirty dress if I want to wear one. Besides, Sophie picked it out. Even if Asher doesn't agree, I think she did a fantastic job.

She keeps her hand over my mouth until he disappears through the doors of the church. "He likes you," she says then, her eyes wide and a bright smile on her face.

"He's rude."

"You like him too," she says, that smile growing.

"Like him? I want to strangle him."

"Obviously. But then you want to kiss him afterward, don't you?"

I roll my eyes at her and pop open the rear passenger door to get her dress. Before I climb in to retrieve it, I pause and look at her over my shoulder. "Maybe a little bit," I mumble.

She laughs loudly.