Kissing Kennedy (Claimed 4)

Kennedy whimpers her disappointment, and then she hears what I do. Her entire body goes rigid against mine before she quickly puts space between us.

Shit.

I reach for her a second too late.

The closet door flies open, narrowly missing her.

"Oh my gosh!" Sienna grabs the door at the same time I grab Kennedy, yanking her back out of the way. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," Kennedy says, steadying herself with a hand against my chest. As soon as she realizes that she's touching me, she yanks her hand away like I'm a hot stove.

Sienna looks at her and then at me and then back to her.

Silence ensues.

Dane peeks his head in. He takes one look at Kennedy's red face and swollen lips and then glances at me. It takes him all of two seconds to work out what was just going on in here. His lips twitch with amusement, but he doesn't say anything.

"Why are you in the closet?" Sienna asks, glancing between the two of us again. Unlike her husband, she doesn't seem to realize that I was about two second away from fucking Kennedy dirty in the middle of a church.

"Oh, um. We were just looking for you," Kennedy says, putting as much distance between the two of us as she can. The way her voice shakes gives away the lie. So does the way her face flames. Her lips are swollen and wet and her dress is mussed. She looks exactly as if we've been up to no good in here. "Sophie needs her shoes."

"Oh!" Sienna holds out the box tucked underneath her arm. "They're right here."

"I'll take them to her." Kennedy grabs them, avoiding looking directly at anyone.

Sienna notices. Her brows furrow as she glances between the two of us again, clearly suspicious. Whatever she sees on Kennedy's face keeps her from asking the question hovering on the tip of her tongue. I almost sigh out loud when she swallows it back and her expression softens.

"Come on," she says, looping her arm through Kennedy's. "Let's go help Soph get ready."

Before I can say anything, they take off toward the kitchen. Kennedy glances over her shoulder at me and then quickly away, her wide eyes full of what looks perilously close to shame.

"Son of a bitch," I mutter, unable to go after her. Call me crazy, but I don't think the preacher of this church would appreciate me chasing after one of the bridesmaids with my dick standing at attention and guilt written all over her face.

Dane seems to realize my predicament.

"I'll give you a minute," he says and then closes the door on me. I hear him laugh from the other side. The bastard.

Kennedy spends the rest of the morning avoiding me, which frustrates me to no end. I try to sneak into the bridal suite as often as Trick does, only for Sienna to materialize as if she's guarding the gates of heaven. She sends us both on our way every damn time. Women take this wedding shit seriously.

Eventually, we both give up. Trick takes to pacing around the room we've been given even though we're all ready to go. I take up a position in front of the window, watching in case Kennedy tries to sneak out. I wouldn't put it past her at this point. Kissing her was a bad idea. It was utter perfection, no doubt. But a bad idea, nonetheless.

She's innocent, inexperienced. As much as I want her in my bed, I don't want her having any regrets once I get her there. I need to give her time to get used to me, take it slow and easy. Problem is, I've never done shit slow and easy in my life. Growing up the way I did, bouncing from foster home to foster home to group home and then to the military, I learned there are no second chances. Once something is gone, there is no getting it back. If you hesitate, you're done.

Every cell in my body screams for me to make her mine now, before some other motherfucker comes along and steals her away. God knows, there are a thousand other men out there more deserving of an angel than I am. Unfortunately for them, I'm selfish enough not to care that she can do better than me. She's mine.

How do I make her see that without sending her running?

I mull the problem, not sure what to do.

"You nervous?" Dane asks Trick from the far side of the room.

"No, I'm not nervous," he growls, even though he's pacing like a caged lion. "What the f…. What's taking them so long?"

"Women take forever to get ready," Dane tells him. "It takes Sienna for-fucking-ever to do all that girly shit they like to do. Don't know why she insists on wearing makeup since she always looks beautiful to me."

Sophie's dad, Richard, chuckles. I like him. He doesn't seem to like people much. I guess he's still messed up from his time overseas. PTSD is rough, nasty shit, especially for men like him and Trick, the ones who were tasked with leading others into battle.