Boss Man Bridegroom

by Quinn, Meghan

  Feeling awkward, I stick my hands in my pockets and say, “Want to come in?”

  She nods, and I move aside so she can walk into my apartment. Instead of setting her bag down in the entryway, she takes it straight to the bedroom and then stays there.

  Unsure of what’s going on, I shut my door, lock it, and then head to the bedroom where Charlee is curled up in my bed.

  Does she want me to join her? I sure as hell want to.

  But I don’t make a move, because all I can do is stare at her. I stare at her so long that she finally breaks the silence. “Don’t leave me in here alone, Rath.”

  She doesn’t have to ask me twice.

  Keeping my clothes on, I slip into bed but keep my distance, which only seems to upset her more. Before I know what’s happening, she’s crying into her pillow.

  Shit.

  Quickly, I fall in behind her and spoon her back, holding on to her tightly.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, all the anger and tension from earlier today gone.

  “I don’t want us fighting.”

  “I don’t want us to fight either,” I say, keeping a firm grasp around her stomach. “Today was fucking miserable. My stomach was in knots the whole time.” And that’s the truth, because even though I gave her the option to walk away, I really didn’t want her to. I want to keep her close to me, to make it impossible for her to even consider walking away. I swallow hard and say, “I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but you being here, in my bed, does that mean you’re wearing the ring again?”

  She takes my hand and brushes it over her left hand, letting me feel the raised diamond. I exhale and squeeze her in tighter.

  “I’m sorry for taking it off,” she says quietly. “I was upset and didn’t react properly. I want to say I don’t know what’s happening to me, that I’m unsure why I care so much about you, about us, but I would be lying to myself. I care, Rath. I care about you, who you are, and who you want to be. I care about what you think about me, what you think about our relationship and if it means something to you too. I care if this is just an agreement to you or if you actually meant it when you said we’re dating. But I’m unsure, and that’s what’s making me do crazy and stupid shit . . . because I’m protecting my heart. It was broken before, but I’m pretty sure if I gave you the chance, you could annihilate it. And that’s more terrifying than anything.”

  “Charlee,” I exhale and press my mouth against her cheek. “You mean something to me too. This relationship does. And it’s fucking weird, how this all came about and it’s scary how quickly everything is happening and the unknown is terrifying as well. But when I said I wanted to date you, I fucking meant it. This isn’t some casual agreement to me anymore. I know it may have started out like that, but it’s morphed into something else. This has become serious to me and as scary as it may seem, I’m starting to have feelings for you. And that means I don’t want to fuck anything up, but you have to give me time. Even though my feelings are strong, this is moving fast and I want to make sure we take our time.”

  “Okay,” she says softly.

  Not quite happy with her resignation, I move her so she’s on her back and looking up at me. I hover over her and bring my hand to her face where I stroke her soft cheek with my thumb.

  “Are we okay?”

  She nods as tears fall from her eyes. “We’re okay.”

  “Then why are you crying?”

  “Because that’s who I am. I cry, I’m emotional. It was just a tough day and everything’s hitting me at once.” She tries to smile but it doesn’t reach anywhere, which twists my stomach into more knots.

  Bram’s theory is starting to have merit. I’d go sleepless if it meant I could spend a few more hours in the day, making sure I see Julia’s smile . . . full of joy. I want nothing more in life than for my girl to be happy . . .

  I understand that now. With every breath I take, I want Charlee to be happy. And with the question running through my mind, I know my feelings for Charlee are much more than what I felt for Vanessa. I never would have asked her this.

  “I want you to be happy, Charlee. How can I make you happy?”

  She lifts her hand to my face and caresses my lips. “Make love to me.”

  I should be scared with how she said that—make love—but it doesn’t faze me. It’s as if she should have been saying that all along.

  Sitting up on my knees, I undo my shirt and toss it to the side, loving how Charlee still stares at me in awe, as if she’ll never get enough of the view in front of her. My pants are next, and I remove those with my boxer briefs. Once I’m naked, I slowly and deliberately start on stripping her down. I begin with her leggings and let those roll off her. Then I reach for her sweater and when I take it off and find out she isn’t wearing a bra, I’m instantly hard. The last article to go is her thong, and then I climb on top of her body and enclose her head with my forearms.

  I stroke her hair and wipe her tears away.

  “Charlee, you need to stop crying. You’re scaring me.”

  “I’m sorry.” She sucks in a deep breath. “I’m just . . . scared.”

  “Why are you scared?”

  She looks away and says, “I don’t want to lose you, and I guess the last twenty-four hours, it felt like I was losing you.”

  “Hey.” I press a kiss to her tear-soaked cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere, Charlee.”

  She blows out a breath and says, “When you said you were moving on, it hit me hard. Kind of felt like Chris all over again.”

  “Shit, baby.” I lower my forehead to hers. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I really didn’t. I was frustrated and scared and relieved that you were okay. I think it hit me at once and I said stupid shit that doesn’t make sense now that I think about it. I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry. I never meant I was moving on from you.”

  Her hands run up and down my back. “I know you are. And I’m sorry that I gave you the ring back. I wasn’t playing games. Your words just hurt so much, and I believed you didn’t want me anymore. But I know better now. Your word . . . it’s something I can trust. I know what it means to you.”

  “Thank you.” I lightly kiss her lips. “Thank you for coming over tonight, for easing the ache that was in my chest.”

  “I wanted to give you space, to make sure I’m what you really want.”

  “You are,” I say, lifting up and cupping her face. “You’re what I want, Charlee.”

  She nods, loops her hands to the back of my neck, and pulls me down to her lips where she moves her mouth against mine desperately and then parts her legs.

  She urges me but I stop her and say, “You’re not ready.”

  She nods and reaches down, bringing my cock to her wet entrance. “I am ready. Please, I need you inside of me. I need all of you.”

  Grunting, needing her just as much, I enter her until I reach the base of my cock and then I hold her closely to my chest, letting her feel me inside her, hopefully showing her how much she matters to me.

  This right here is all I want. Me and her.

  Together.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  CHARLEE

  “Aah, fuck, Charlee.” Rath’s chest heaves, his muscles tense, and he grips the headboard above him. “Shit, babe . . .”

  I suck harder, roll my tongue around the head of his cock. Suck. Pump. Suck. Pump.

  His hips move, begging for more, moving my finger in and out of him while my mouth continues to move over his length. I can see it, he’s on edge, so I remove my mouth and lick the underside of his cock, playing with the sensitive vein along his length.

  He hisses out his pleasure as his thighs tense, his abs ripple, and the sinew in his arms fire off. That’s when I take him back in my mouth and finish him off.

  “Aahh, Charlee . . . fuck.”

  He comes, hard, and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed. The way his orgasm took over him, the pleasure in his features, the uncontrol
lable way his body contorted . . . so damn sexy.

  I travel back up his body, kissing my way until I reach his mouth. His chest rapidly rises and falls beneath me as he tries to catch his breath.

  I kiss his chin and say, “Happy birthday.”

  He scoops me up and lays me flat on the mattress. “Best fucking birthday, ever. Best way to wake up too.” He starts to lower down my body but I stop him.

  “Oh no, you don’t. Today is about you and how many times I can suck you off in one single day.”

  His brows shoot up to his hairline. “Babe, you can’t be serious.”

  “I am. One down, nineteen to go.”

  His eyes nearly fall out of his head. “You’re going to suck me off twenty times today? Charlee, I won’t have a dick after that.”

  “Are you saying you’re not man enough to take on twenty blow jobs in one day?”

  “I’m saying I don’t want to be chafed walking down the aisle of my best friend’s wedding.”

  “And sister, it’s your sister’s wedding day as well.”

  “Yeah, she’s fine. Bram’s my boy though.” Honestly, I’ll never understand the bromance those two have. It’s sweet though. I wish I had a friendship like theirs. I know I have my grandma, but she’s older, so hitting up late-night things doesn’t work well. Linus is my friend, and I have some friends Upstate, but nothing like what Bram and Rath have. And weirdly, ever since I told Linus I was getting married to Rath, he’s been distant. I still wonder if he disapproves. Either way, I am in awe of the kind of friendships Rath has, especially given his busy schedule and life. He makes time for it all.

  “How about this,” I say. “Whenever you want some today”—I motion to my body—“it’s an open door.”

  He chuckles and says, “How’s that different than any other day?”

  “Are you calling me a harlot?” I ask in feigned shock.

  “Nah, not a harlot, just perfect for me, that’s all.” He wiggles his eyebrows and I don’t think I’ve seen him cuter than in this moment. “Now, the birthday boy wants some breakfast. Spread your legs, babe.”

  He goes to lower himself again but I pull him up again. “Not yet.”

  Exhaling in frustration, he collapses to the side, his hand in his hair. “Why won’t you just let me lick your pussy?” he asks, sounding hilariously desperate.

  “Are you seriously whining about not going down on me?”

  “Yes, I am. Now stop arguing and come sit on my face.”

  Laughing, I lean over and kiss his cheek before hopping out of bed and slipping on his discarded button-up shirt. “You’re cute when you’re frustrated.”

  “And you’re sexy in my shirt, so come over here and let me do my job as your fiancé.”

  I reach into my bag and pull out a wrapped present. “Why don’t you cool your jets and let me spoil you?”

  He eyes the present and then looks at me, a softness in his eyes. “Charlee, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

  “But I did because I wanted to.” I hand him the small box and then sit back on my heels, excited.

  He glances at me and shakes his head, a smile caressing his handsome jaw.

  “What’s that look for?” I ask, poking his side.

  “You.”

  “What about me?”

  He sets the box down and pulls me onto his blanket-covered lap. He holds my bare hips still and says, “You just, hell . . . you make me happy, Charlee.”

  I caress his jaw. “You make me happy too, Rath.” I lower my mouth and kiss him sweetly on the lips, and the way he reciprocates sends tingles all the way to my toes. I don’t want to say it out loud, I hate that I’m even thinking about it, but over the course of the last few weeks, I’ve realized that Rath holds a special place in my heart, more special than I’ve realized. More than Chris even held.

  When he said he was moving on, I literally felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest and he was dragging it across the floor behind him as he retreated. It took me setting my wants and needs to the side for a brief second to realize, just as much as this was hard on me, this was hard on him too, and if I kept pushing and pushing we’d never get anywhere. So even though I don’t understand him not wanting to open up, I’m going to give him time.

  I pull my lips away from him and say, “Open my gift.”

  “Okay.”

  He goes to untie the ribbon and I stop him. “For the record, I know you’re mega rich and could really get yourself anything, so I thought I would do something a little different. Don’t think it’s like . . . an Apple Watch or something.”

  He laughs out loud and shakes his head. “Damn, and my hopes were up for one.” He finishes untying the ribbon and opens the lid. He pulls out the present and a giant smile crosses his face as he takes it in and then he looks up at me.

  “The first day we met.”

  I nod and take one of his hands in mine. “My grandma always told me if I wanted to meet someone, I should do something that makes me really happy, go somewhere that makes me really happy so people can see me at my best. It may sound lame, but that convention was a happy place for me, and you captured that moment, of seeing me at my best. And that’s where I met you.” And if he mentions turd nugget, I might have to punch him. Even though it’s his birthday.

  He clutches the picture to his chest and says, “I love it, thank you. I’m putting it on my desk when we get back into the office on Monday.”

  “Yeah?” I move my hands up his chest and over his shoulders. “Front and center?”

  “Yup.” His arm slides under my shirt and around my waist where he flips me to my back and hovers above me. “I want in you.” He sets the picture on the nightstand and lowers his mouth to my breasts.

  “You need to get ready for the wedding.”

  “Trust me,” he says, moving his hand to my pussy where he feels how eager I am already. “This won’t take long.”

  * * *

  Rich people have nice weddings.

  I’ve been to a few weddings here and there, but they have been mediocre in terms of amount spent, which is totally fine because it’s one day. Why blow all your money on one day, right?

  Well . . . I can see why some people do it, because holy shit.

  First of all, the ceremony itself was drop-dead gorgeous. They didn’t go over the top with decorations. How could you when the Boathouse in Prospect Park is already beautiful? Its light green, herringbone-tiled arched ceilings and prominent white windows overlook the ceremony space and Prospect Lake, which has a coating of moss over the top, giving the entire space an ethereal look.

  So magical.

  Julia beautifully paired light peach and ivory colors to flow throughout the space as well, and the tables are gathered together into one long table that stretches through the giant arched hallway of the boathouse. Brilliant in every way.

  Champagne glass in hand, I nervously adjust the dress Rath helped me pick out and scan the room for the man I came with. He wanted me to feel special today—which is ridiculous since it’s his birthday and Bram and Julia’s wedding. He took me shopping the other day and we found this beautiful Vera Wang floor-length gold dress that I’m not going to lie, makes my ass look amazing with how the exposed back hits just above it.

  He also required I get my hair and makeup done as well. I feel very pretty and very much like I fit in with the crowd.

  “Charlee, your dress is gorgeous,” Sutton says, coming up to me with a glass of champagne in her hand. Her southern charm captivates me—her voice, her politeness, and her beauty.

  “Thank you,” I say, turning to face her. “So do you.” I look toward the ceremony and say, “Where were you sitting? We should have sat together while the boys were up there doing their thing. By the way, Roark in a tux is something every girl should see in their lifetime.”

  She sighs dreamily. “I could not agree more. When he put it on earlier, it was very hard for me not to tear it off.” She sips her champagne and t
hen whispers, “Honestly, I think all the guys stole the show, and I don’t mean to make that sound awful because Julia was stunning, but all three of those guys standing up there together, hands clasped in front of them, styled so handsomely, it was hard to look away.”

  “Tell me about it,” I say, feeling a blush hit my cheeks. “I occasionally caught Rath looking at me, and it made me blush feverously.”

  “Oh yeah, I caught him looking at someone in the crowd. I assumed it was you. Girl,” Sutton says, with a smile, “he has it bad for you.”

  “You think so?” I ask, feeling a sense of joy surge through me.

  “Yes. He could not stop staring at you.”

  “And here I thought it was the girl in front of me with the bright red dress on.” I wouldn’t have blamed him really. She’s the girl who stands out in a crowd, and given I’m on the vertically challenged side, I didn’t think he could actually see me.

  Sutton shakes her head. “No, that was all you. Rath Westin was staring at his fiancée.”

  “Gah, you’re so sweet. You know we should really—”

  “Excuse me,” a beautiful girl with long brown hair turns around, interrupting us. I immediately notice her as the girl in the red dress sitting in front of me. “Did you say Rath Westin’s fiancée?”

  “Yes,” Sutton says, giving the girl a quick once-over. “This is Charlee, Rath’s fiancée. I’m Sutton, Roark’s girl. And you are?” It doesn’t sound rude the way she says it because southern charm drips from Sutton’s voice, but from the way she steels her shoulders, I sense she’s being protective.

  “Vanessa.” She holds her hand out. Why do I know that name? Where have I heard it before? “It’s very nice to meet you.” She shakes both our hands.

  “What a lovely name,” Sutton says. “And how do you know Rath?”

  “I used to work for him.” She looks away and then says, “And we used to date.”

  And just like that, the jovial mood I was in completely falters, and I’m filled with dread. Is this the girl? The one who hurt him? That one who damaged him to the point that he hasn’t been able to open up to me?