“Thanks for killing my dreams.”
He laughs. “I don’t know how Amie puts up with you.”
“It’s ’cause my dick is huge.”
My mother slaps me on the arm with her clutch. “Lexington, you’re in a church.”
I turn and give her my most charming, apologetic smile. “Sorry, Mimi, just trying to take Bane’s mind off his nerves.”
She glares, but I can see she’s fighting a smile. I step aside and let my brother link arms with our mother and walk down the aisle. Griffin, who returned from Asia after a six-month long business trip just in time for the wedding, follows behind.
Amie’s gown is lavender, clingy and seriously sexy for a bridesmaid dress. Ruby gets props for that. I’m looking forward to getting my hands on Amie, and peeling that dress off, possibly with my teeth. I already know what she’s wearing under it, thanks to a few pictures sent earlier today.
Amie smiles and winks as she takes her place as the maid of honor opposite me. I don’t really pay attention to the ceremony as much as I should, which is obvious when I’m elbowed for the ring.
When the ceremony is over I step up beside Amie and thread my arm through hers, walking her down the aisle. I don’t know if this kind of wedding will ever be something she’ll want after what she’s been through, but I do know that I’m going to love her regardless.
As we pass the last few aisles her grip on my arm tightens. I follow her gaze to where Brittany Thorton, or Whore-ton as Ruby has not-so-fondly nicknamed her, is sitting in the back row. But it’s not my cousin beside her. I vaguely recognize the guy she’s with, but I can’t put a name to his face. Apparently the rumors that Armstrong was dumped are true. Moorehead Media has run into some financial issues in the past few months, and it’s having quite the impact on his desirability factor.
“What the hell is she doing here?” Amie whispers.
I shrug. Her parents are here, too, since they’re old family friends, but it’s kind of weird that she’d attend when she’s been set up with both the groom and myself. Although, based on my experiences with Brittany, it’s all about the ladder-climbing opportunities.
Once pictures have been taken I don’t get to be near Amie until speeches are over. The way we gravitate toward each other is subconscious. We’re not like magnets that attract and push away. She’s my sun and I’m her moon, connected by an invisible thread, bound but free.
I take advantage of every single slow song. Holding her close, I drop my mouth to her ear. “How long are we obligated to stay?”
“We’re in the wedding party. Until the end.”
“Do you think we can disappear for a few minutes? You can say you forgot something in our room.” I nibble on her lobe.
Amie hums like maybe she agrees that this is a good plan. My semi gets closer to becoming a full hard-on.
“I can feel that,” she whispers.
“Feel what? This?” I press my palm firmly against her back, keeping her tight against me.
“Stop trying to probe my navel, and watch your hands, Mr. Mills, your grandparents are here, we need to keep it PG.” She shifts the hand that’s pressed against her low back up several inches.
“Call me Mr. Mills again.”
“No.”
“Just once?” I brush my lips across her cheek.
“No.”
“Come on, baby. I’ll make it worth your while later. You’re killing me in this dress tonight, especially since I know what’s underneath it.”
She leans back, which pushes her hips into mine, and bats her lashes. “You like my new pretties?”
“I can’t wait to see what they look like off you.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “In a couple of hours you can get me naked, like you do pretty much every night.”
“It’s two hours too many.”
“You can survive two hours.”
She’s right. I can. But I don’t want to. So I spend the next ninety minutes whispering filthy things in her ear. She threatens to withhold tickle trunk access if I keep it up, so I stop. Well, the whispering. Instead, I make her close dance with me even to the fast songs so she can feel my hard-on. Then I do all the things I know drive her crazy. I skim the length of her arm, kiss her shoulder, nuzzle her neck, and trace the line of her spine.
The second we’re in the room she’s on me, pulling her jujitsu moves, taking me to the floor. “Look who’s having a hard time with control now.”
“You’re the one who had your hands all over me all night.”
“I like touching you.” She knows this.
She bites my lip and yanks my shirt free from my pants. “Well you better start touching me in the places that count.”
“That sounds like a threat. You planning to take something away if I don’t give you what you want?”
Amie narrows her eyes at my raised brow. Then she sits up, bracing her hands on my chest, one side of her mouth curving up in a sly grin. “I brought your favorite toys.” At the tilt of my head her smile widens. “You might wanna consider playing nice with me.”
I sit up in a rush, setting her off balance. She shrieks when I shove her dress up to her hips and grab her ass. Pushing to an awkward stand, I wrap her legs around my waist and carry her to the bed. Round one is frantic and wild. Round two is gentle and slow. I love every side of Amie, from naughty and dirty to sweet and soft.
As we lay on the rumpled sheets afterward I stroke her back. “How was tonight for you?”
She props her chin on my chest and closes one eye so she can focus on me. “You want me to rate the sex?”
I pinch her ass. “The frequency and volume of your orgasms indicate it was a ten out of ten.”
She tweaks my nipple in retaliation so I thread my fingers through hers to prevent it from happening again. “I’m talking about the wedding. You handled it well.” We’ve had conversations leading up to today, but being prepared doesn’t necessarily mean that the emotional impact will lessen.
“The only thing that threw me was Brittany being there. Otherwise it was fine. Good even. I had fun. Were you worried?”
“I just want to make sure you’re okay, and that you don’t keep everything locked up in here, like you sometimes do.” I tap her temple.
“I’m okay.” Her smile is soft as she kisses my chin and then lays her head on my chest again.
I wait, because I’ve given her a door and it will take her a few minutes to find the courage to accept the invitation to walk through it.
“Lex?”
“Yeah, baby.”
“Can I ask you something without you taking it the wrong way?”
“You should be able to.”
She breathes out a laugh. It’s another minute or so before she speaks again. “Do you want to get married? I mean, eventually, is that something you’re going to want? I don’t mean to me. I mean—” She shakes her head and mashes her face against my chest.