by Whitley Cox
“Ummm … ” Her gaze slid sideways. “The newlyweds.”
His mouth dropped open, and his eyes grew saucer-size. “This is their suite?”
She shrugged. “Might be.”
His head began to shake, as if she were no more than a petulant tween who had just come home late from curfew and her father was about to scold her. “What else is in the bag, Lowenna?”
Rolling her eyes and resisting the urge to stomp her foot, she finally shrugged. “Itching powder.”
He stepped away and buried his face in his hand. “Fuck.”
“What?” She didn’t understand his reaction. She thought he hated her sister and Brody as much as she did. And people said women were confusing.
Ignoring the look he gave her, his head still hung and shaking, she made to stand back up on the bed and finish what she hadn’t even had a chance to start.
His hand around her wrist stopped her though. “You can’t,” he said, his voice low and full of warning. “You. Can’t.”
She attempted to jerk free of his grasp, but he simply pulled her into his chest. “Don’t, Lowenna. Don’t stoop to their level. You are better than this. Look forward, not back. Don’t trip over what is behind you. Don’t let the toxic hate consume you.”
She gritted her teeth, finally bringing her gaze to his. What met her was so much love and unbridled hope that the armor around her heart began to crack, and the frustration she’d been feeling toward him and his insistence she halt her revenge efforts dissolved.
“Choose love, not hate,” he whispered, dipping his head and sliding his mouth over hers so effortlessly, it was if they’d been kissing for years.
She let him lead her in another hot, passionate kiss, her hands drawn to the back of his neck as if by magnets, her breasts pressing hard against his titanium chest. She moaned deep in her throat and opened for him as he explored every contour of her mouth with his wickedly talented tongue.
When they finally parted, she had jelly for limbs, a full heart and a pulsing body, aching for more orgasms.
His grin stole the breath she’d been struggling to catch clear from her lungs. It was dazzling.
“Ready to go?” he asked, taking her hand in his and tugging her toward the door. “I think the reception is about ready to start. Bridezilla and the Groom from the Black Lagoon should be done with their photo shoot by now.”
Still stunned by his kisses, she allowed him to lead her out of the hotel room, her bag from earlier with the box of condoms and itching powder in his free hand.
“How’d you get the key card to their room?” he asked as they made their way to the elevator.
It felt like the hotel hallway was a thousand degrees, based on how hot she was at that moment. Mason just had a way of cranking up her temperature. He also had a way of making her want to take off all her clothes. Sheepishly, she glanced up at him. “I asked the front desk. I told them that I’m the bride’s sister and that I wanted to go and leave a surprise in the honeymoon suite for the happy couple.”
Ever since all those orgasms just a short while ago, she felt invincible. Like she could do anything. Take on the world. Take on the villains.
And she really needed those superpowers if she was going to stand up in front of everyone and hit them with the truth.
She needed the courage to do what needed to be done.
The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside.
“Why were you going to do that?” he asked after they stood there in silence for nearly a full minute, watching the numbers drop over the door.
“Do what?”
“The itching powder. The sex in their bed. Why?”
Cocking an eyebrow, she glanced up at him like he’d sprouted another head. “For revenge. You know them now. You know what kind of crap-face people they are. They deserve all of that and more.”
And they’d be getting more. Much, much more.
His eyes slid away from her, and he glanced ahead at the brass mirrored doors. “I thought bringing me, being your sexy confident self with a man a million times better than Brody, was your revenge. You wanted to show them that you’re better off without them. Isn’t a full life and success the best revenge of all?”
She shook her head, giving him another bewildered look before scoffing, “No.”
His brows pinched for a moment, then he exhaled and slumped his shoulders. “Okay, then.”
As if they were a real part of her, all those superpowers from all those orgasms began to fade away. They left her like a choppy breath after a sprint into the wind. The loss of her superpowers tasted metallic and choked her throat tight until she was forced to swallow and breathe in deep through her nose.
He hadn’t let go of her hand, he hadn’t stepped away, but she felt him pull away from her.
The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped out into the lobby, still hand in hand. He glanced down at her. “Ready?” The sparkle in his eyes had faded, and the look he gave her held a vacancy that alarmed her.
But she pushed it all away and nodded. “Yeah.”
He nodded too, faced forward and tugged her toward the grand ballroom. “All right, then, let’s get this over with.”
By the time they entered the ballroom, arm in arm, the bride and groom were already inside, greeting guests.
No thanks.
They beelined it for the bar, where some friendly faces greeted them.
“Scotch?” Liam asked, nodding at him as they approached.
“You know it.” He squeezed Lowenna’s hip. “Drink?”
“Red wine, please.”
Liam’s head dipped to acknowledge both of them, then he turned to the bartender to order the drinks.
“We’ve been here for a while now,” Zak said, his arm around Aurora. “Gotta drink these motherfuckers into the poorhouse.” He clinked his beer bottle against Aurora’s wineglass. “Right, babe?”
Aurora simply grinned and lifted her eyebrows. “This is already my third. Gotta pace myself, though, if I want to make it through dessert.”
Liam handed Mason and Lowenna their drinks. “Speaking of food, when the fuck do we get to eat?”
“You just had cake upstairs, and I see a table full of appetizers,” Mason said, immediately taking a sip of his scotch.
“Yeah, but it’s Paige’s food. I’ve gorged myself on her appetizers, but now I want the main course. I always have room for Paige’s food. And I need to make sure I get one of everything. I swear to God, if they pull table numbers out of a hat and my table is last, I’m going to fire Brody’s ass on Monday.”
“God, can we?” Atlas grunted, sidling up next to them all, stowing his phone in his pocket, then sipping his drink.
“Are we all at least sitting together?” Mason asked. His hand flexed on Lowenna’s hip, and he pulled her closer to his side. He hadn’t looked at her in a while, and it was throwing her off.
Liam shook his head. “Afraid not, man. You and Lowenna are sitting with a bunch of their family. We’re all together, though.”
His fingers kneaded her hip once again.
She was about to say something along the lines of I’m sorry, I can see if we can switch seats, when Brody’s brother, Brady (yes, Brody and Brady—yeesh!) began tapping a microphone on the stage.
“Hello, everyone,” Brady began. He was the spitting image of his older brother and equally douchey. “We’re going to ask that everyone find their seats, please, then we’ll start pulling table numbers from a hat for the buffet.”
“Motherfucker,” Liam grumbled, ordering another drink. “Gonna drink my dinner then, I guess.”
Mason steered her toward the table where Lowenna’s parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles were sitting.
“Is this the handsome Mason we’ve heard so much about?” Lowenna’s Aunt Margery asked, pecking Lowenna on the cheek as they approached their table.
Lowenna embraced her father’s sister. “This is.” She parted with her aunt and looked up at
Mason. He was all smiles, completely in boyfriend mode.
One by one, all of Lowenna’s family members came up and hugged her and either shook hands with Mason or hugged him. Praising her new choice of partner, how handsome he was, how tall, how blue his eyes were. You name it, her aunts or grandmothers mentioned it. Particularly her Aunt Nellie, who held on awfully tight to Mason’s bicep for a solid thirty seconds, her eyes sparkly as she gazed up at him.
Lowenna was so caught up in introducing her new boyfriend to everyone, answering questions about how they met, how long they’ve been together and how the chocolate shop was doing, that by the time she lifted her head toward the stage, Doneen and Brody had their food, but neither of them were eating.
Her sister’s face was a mottled red, her eyes narrowed, brows pinched, and she was glaring at Lowenna. Brody was staring too, but his focus was on Mason, and although he wasn’t happy either, she doubted he was trying to shoot laser beams from his eyes like his wife.
Lowenna cleared her throat and rested her hand on Mason’s hip. “We should sit down. They’re calling tables.”
He grunted and bid her Uncle Ron adieu, pulling her chair out for her before he pulled out his own.
“Such a gentleman,” Aunt Nellie said across the table. “I can tell he really loves you. See it in his eyes. You two are just beautiful together.”
Heat raced into her cheeks. “Thanks, Aunt Nellie.”
Mason leaned over and pecked her on the temple. “It was love at first sight … at least for me. This one took a bit more convincing.” He threaded his fingers through hers beneath the table, then lifted the back of her hand to his lips. “But now, we’re all about the future. Looking forward to happiness and new beginnings. Right, babe? No need to dwell on the past and all that negativity, all that pain and hurt.” The glint in the dark blue of his eyes said more than his words ever could.
Lowenna took a long sip of her wine before answering. “Yep, forward. Happiness. New beginnings. Sounds great.”
She avoided his eyes when she set her wineglass down because she knew what stared back at her—pure disappointment.
20
With dinner over and done with, it was time to dance.
And oh, what a dance it was.
Violet and Adam weren’t kidding when they said Brody and Doneen were terrible. After months and months of lessons, they still botched countless moves, couldn’t get in sync, and Doneen, the control freak, kept trying to lead. It was painful to watch, and unfortunately, it was nearly seven minutes long, so they had to watch for a while.
Lowenna exchanged glances with Tori and Mitch across the room a few times as they circled the uncoordinated couple on the dance floor, taking pictures of them but also hoping they didn’t get kicked in the skull.
It would be safe to guess every person in the ballroom was worried about possibly getting kicked in the skull or, at the very least, Doneen’s shoe flying off into the crowd.
Thankfully, though, no one was maimed.
By the time the rhythmless couple vacated the dance floor, panting and smiling to the thunderous applause, Mason, Lowenna, Liam, Atlas, Zak and Aurora could hardly contain themselves. They were all standing off in one corner, hiding their mouths behind their drinks out of fear someone might see them smirking or, worse yet, crying from laughter—because Lowenna wasn’t far off.
Then the DJ began to pump the beats, and anyone who was interested was welcomed onto the dance floor.
“They don’t have to ask me twice,” Zak said, draining his beer and offering Aurora his hand. “Shall we, my love?”
Aurora set her wineglass down on a nearby table. “Lead the way, handsome.”
“Where’d Zak get a kilt?” Mason asked, tipping up his scotch.
“Guy’s half Scot. He and Adam have them. Grandparents took them to Scotland when they were kids,” Liam replied, surveying the now full dance floor.
Mason frowned in understanding before he finished his drink. “Shall we show them how we do it?” he asked, offering Lowenna his hand. “You paid for lessons. We might as well get your money’s worth.”
She’d love nothing more than to be in Mason’s arms in front of everyone, because now, they weren’t putting on airs. It wasn’t fake. She wasn’t just getting the boyfriend experience. After that brief bit of weirdness in the hotel room and elevator, he had been nothing but sweet, sexy, perfect and attentive.
She finished her wine and set it down on the table before she took his hand, giggling as she jogged after him in her heels. “Careful. I don’t want to trip.”
They entered the dance floor, where they found Zak and Aurora. Zak was smiling and spinning his laughing woman out, but the man had very little rhythm. He also didn’t seem to care.
“Looks like your brother got all the dance talent,” Mason said, taking Lowenna in his arms and setting them off to an easy step.
Zak’s eyes lit up. “He sure did.” He pulled Aurora back into his chest, and they started to sway—not to the beat.
It was a beautiful, magical night. One Lowenna wouldn’t soon forget.
Everyone loved Mason.
Everyone loved her and Mason together.
And their dancing was infinitely superior to the debacle that had played out just moments ago in front of everyone. Honestly, why did Doneen and Brody put themselves through that? Did they not know they sucked?
The music turned to a slow ballad, and a few people left the dance floor. Zak and Aurora were now glued to each other, barely moving as they kissed and smiled and laughed.
“Let’s get out of here,” Mason whispered, tightening the hold he had on Lowenna’s waist. “You’re better than this, and what we have now is real, isn’t it? We have nothing to prove … you have nothing to prove.” He jerked his head behind him. “Let’s head back to my place, spend the rest of the night in bed.”
Oh God, yes, please.
She opened her mouth, though she wasn’t sure what to say, but he made that decision for her by crashing his mouth into hers. It was no sweet peck either. It was hot, it was dirty, and it was full of tongue.
Right there on the dance floor, in front of her family, their friends and everyone else, Mason and Lowenna sucked face. And it was awesome.
She didn’t care one bit, because she was in love.
She was getting the full boyfriend experience because he was her boyfriend. She knew that now. No question. He was hers.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and played with the short hair that tickled the nape, her eyes closed as they continued to effortlessly glide around the dance floor.
His lips were like velvet, his tongue strong and in control. The way it twirled and twisted around hers, mated with hers, danced with hers. Then he’d pull back and nip her lip or suck on her tongue, sending a deep quake down to her toes.
The song was still slow, and their steps were too, but Mason had managed to maneuver his thigh between her legs, and every once in a while, when he’d step her back, the top of his leg would brush against the apex of her thighs, sending a rush of pleasure racing through her.
She’d shudder in his arms, their lips still together, arms still wrapped around each other.
She was close to coming, just from the dance. From the kiss, from Mason.
He knew exactly what he was doing. When her knees threatened to buckle, he’d pull her tighter against him, catch her before she fell.
He broke the kiss, and she opened her eyes. His mouth moved across her face in a path of kisses. “Come home with me,” he whispered into her ear at the same time he stepped her back one more time, this time an even bigger step than before. His thigh and the lace of her G-string grazed her clit. “Come, Lowenna.”
And she did.
It was small, it was secret, but it was no less amazing. No less exhilarating.
In his arms, on the dance floor, in a room with over three hundred people, guests, staff and the like, Lowenna came.
She squeezed her eyes shut again
and rested her cheek against his, holding on to his neck as the climax took hold of her.
“That’s it, baby. Just let go.” His grip around her waist was firm, holding her up, holding her steady, shielding the majority of her reaction with his body.
She trembled as the orgasm began to dissipate, the aftereffects leaving her boneless and tired.
“Want to sit down?” he asked, keeping them dancing. Thank God the song was still slow. She wasn’t sure she could do a foxtrot to save her life.
She exhaled and nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and led them off the floor and out of the ballroom into sort of a wide, high-ceilinged atrium. Various doors lined the walls, which formed a circle. A round bench with plants in the middle sat in the bullseye of the floor.
He encouraged her to sit down, which she did, gladly. Then he took her feet in his lap, removed her heels and began to massage her aching feet.
Could this man get any more perfect?
“I meant it,” he said after they sat there for a moment in companionable, pleasant silence, her brain and toes slowly turning to mush. “Come home with me. Let’s spend the night—and the morning—in bed. My mom can keep Willow if I need her to. Let’s blow this popsicle stand and go be together.”
Her eyes were closed and she was leaning back, relishing the way the pads of his big, strong thumbs kneaded the balls of her feet. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had massaged her feet—if ever. Finally, she opened her eyes, though they remained a touch unfocused, and she nodded. “I … I will. I want to, but only after the speeches, okay? I promised Doneen I would give a speech.”
A flicker in his eyes burned behind the intense blue, and he released her feet, grabbed her heels from the floor and helped her back into her shoes. “What’s going on, Lowenna? I get the feeling you’re not telling me something.”
She shrugged. “Doneen asked me to give a speech. And I intend to do just that.”
“That’s not just it. I know you better than that. Tell me the truth. What’s going on? What are you planning to do?”
Fine. He asked. She’d tell him. She wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed. All those emotions had disappeared long ago, leaving nothing but rage in their wake.