Chapter Three

Asher

The old church I'm standing in is an illusion because I am undoubtedly in hell. Kennedy Thorne is sin incarnate in her indecently sexy red bridesmaid's dress, and the heat searing through my veins and cinching up my balls is hellfire. It's the only explanation I have for the very unchurch-like fantasizes currently playing pinball inside my skull…the ones where Kennedy is laid out over the altar, my naked and willing carnal sacrifice.

Didn't mean to piss her off outside but standing so close to an angel made it hard to think. Fucking Christ, she's entirely too tempting in that damn dress. The thought of all the men here looking at her and coveting her has me feeling a tad homicidal. I haven't been able to get her off my mind since the rehearsal dinner.

I lowkey stalked her social media like a creep. She doesn't post often. The only pictures available are those she's tagged in by someone else and a couple goofy selfies with her sister, Caroline. Sophie was right though. Kennedy is incredibly talented. She's won more awards for her writing than I knew existed. She never posts those either. Her family does. They're proud as hell of her. So am I.

She's so sweet, a true romantic. Not the kind of romance that takes grand gestures and material displays, but the kind that whispers quietly and stands firm no matter what. Her wall is filled with photos of young couples holding hands and elderly couples defying age and infirmity to stay near one another, of little boys pushing girls on swings and wild animals curled up together.

There's a gleam in Kennedy's eyes, a little spark that says she's hiding entire volumes behind those pretty green panes. Pieces of those secret thoughts leak out onto her wall in snippets of poetry and snapshots of her journal entries. She's astute, making observations about the world around her that most people miss.

She sees the lone leaf bobbing through the gutter and wonders how far it's come and what it's seen along the way. She seeks out the misshapen tree and questions what trauma changed its course and how. She's wise beyond her years, yet still brimming with innocent curiosity.

And I'm pretty sure she wants to set me on fire.

I've never much cared if I came across as rude or if I pissed anyone off. I say what I think and that's that. I'm rough and autocratic and I just don't give a shit if people like me or not. When you've been a throwaway your whole life, you learn to stop caring what people think about you. So long as it doesn't impact my business, they can take me or leave me, and I don't lose sleep over it.

Kennedy is different. She's fascinating. I actually want her to like me. I just know fuck all about making that happen. I'm figuring this shit out as I go. So far…it's not going well. Although her little attitude is sexy as hell. I see why Trick likes riling Sophie up. I can't wait to piss Kennedy off just to kiss her happy again.

"Stay there," I order Trick, pulling closed the doors to the chapel so Kennedy and Sophie can smuggle in Sophie's dress without him seeing it. I guess the bride and groom staying apart before the wedding is tradition or some shit. I don't know, but Trick's been short-tempered and anxious all day because he hasn't been able to set eyes on his girl.

A couple seconds after I close the door, Kennedy pops her head inside. Her eyes come to me and then bounce away. She squares her jaw and completely ignores my presence…which shouldn't have my dick as hard as it does. Her obstinance is unexpectedly attractive. So are the twin spots of color blooming in her cheeks.

"The coast is clear," she says to Sophie. Her voice is like smoke, settling over me in a way that is all too appealing. I can just imagine her crying my name in that sensual tone, pleading with me to let her come. I won't though. Not until she's wrung out and desperate for it.

What shade of green are her eyes when she's horny? How pink does her skin get before she comes? I have a thousand different curiosities I'm dying to satisfy. My hands itch for a pen and paper so I can draw her like this, stubborn and defiant and so fucking sweet.

Sophie pops in, double-checking to confirm that Trick isn't trying to sneak a look at her, and then she hurries inside, her dress bag held aloft to keep it from trailing across the floor. The bag is pitch black, not giving even a hint of what's inside.

"Oh shoot," she mutters, stopping to look around. "Sienna has my shoes."

"She's in the back with Dane."

Sophie looks at me and then at Kennedy. Her expression morphs from concern to complete innocence so fast I know she's up to something. "Would you mind helping Kennedy find her?" she asks, all but batting her lashes at me.

Not like I'm going to say no to spending any amount of time with the angel currently gaping at her like she's lost her mind. She looks so cute and betrayed, I almost laugh.

"Yeah," I say instead, not wanting to rile my girl up even more just yet.

"Yeah, you mind, or yeah, you'll take her?" Sophie asks, hitting me with a no bullshit look. Like Kennedy, I think she's silently threatening to set me on fire. If she weren't less than half my size with an angelic face, it'd be intimidating. But I spent almost a decade in the military, visiting places just this side of hell. Not much intimidates me anymore.

"I can go by myself," Kennedy says…as if I'm letting that shit happen. She still won't look at me. I don't like that much. I want those eyes on me. It's the only way to read her. Her face is deceptively sweet. I bet people underestimate her all the time, think she's soft when, in reality, there's a whole world of strength hiding behind those big eyes.

I've never wanted to know what someone is thinking as badly as I do with her. I barely even know her and I already know that whatever is going on in her mind at any given moment is infinitely more fascinating than anything happening out here.

"I'll take you."

Her lips compress into a thin line and she crosses her arms, which isn't supposed to be cute but is anyway. She thinks she's a lion, but she's a lamb. The movement tugs the top of her dress down just a bit, leaving the swells of her breasts visible. I can't wait to sink my teeth into them and play with those fat little nipples until she's pleading for me to fuck her.

"Thanks!" Sophie chirps and then scurries down the hall, clearly pleased with herself for throwing the two of us together. Interesting. Yesterday, she was threatening to rip my balls off. Now, she's playing match maker.

I ain't complaining.

Kennedy and I stand there for a long moment, not speaking. I'm trying to work out how to apologize for pissing her off without pissing her off even more. She's trying to work out how to set fires with her mind or something.

"Come on," I mutter, placing my hand on her back. As soon as I touch her, she jumps as if I shocked her. She doesn't pull away though, which is a good thing because I think my new favorite thing might be touching her. Despite how tiny she is, she's soft as silk. Her cheeks are rosy red and she's hiding her eyes from me like she feels shy.

I lead her around the long way, weaving through the building and various Sunday school rooms instead of taking a straight shot through the chapel to the kitchen where Dane and Sienna were a few minutes ago. Sue me. I want to keep her close.

"All your tattoos are covered," she finally says. The comment falls into the silence between us, cracking it wide open.

"It's a wedding. The tux is required."

Tags: Nichole Rose Claimed Romance
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