by H M Thomas
Brock’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded.
Finn laughed and slapped his friend on the back. “She’s a Christensen, I think she can handle that without rehearsing.”
A small smile pulled at the corners of Brock’s mouth. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. She wouldn’t miss the wedding. That’s what’s important.”
The knot in Finn’s stomach loosened enough he no longer feared he’d be sick. If Gretchen missed Brock’s wedding to avoid him, he’d never forgive himself. He hadn’t seen her in ten years, surely she’d forgotten all about him by now.
Just like he’d forgotten her.
Yeah right.
~ ~ ~
Finn needed a drink, and he needed it now. He’d never in his life experienced anything as torturous as listening to Maria’s bridesmaids nitpick every fucking detail of the wedding. And he still had to endure the rest of the weekend. Since he didn’t expect God to step in and intervene, he’d have to rely on alcohol.
“I’ll take a Rusty Nail.” He leaned against the bar, scanning the room as he waited.
Across the room the sexy blonde from the church sat perched primly on a barstool facing the windows overlooking the river, spinning her wineglass in her fingers. She lifted the glass to her mouth, and he couldn’t help picturing those lush lips stretched around his dick. Maybe this weekend wouldn’t be a complete waste after all.
“Your Rusty Nail.” The bartender slid his drink across the glossy wood bar top.
Finn thanked him, taking the glass and leaving a bill in its place. He’d decided to introduce himself to the mystery woman when he heard the shrill sound of Bianca Christensen Van Hoose’s voice, the second oldest of the Christensen clan.
He cringed. The woman was going through a nasty divorce. Over the past two hours she’d flirted with every man at the rehearsal, including the preacher. Finn had finally walked away when her hand kept inching toward his crotch. He was all for a little fun and games during a wedding weekend, but three women were completely off limits for him: Abigail, Bianca and . . .
“Gretchen Christensen.”
Finn’s head swung to Abigail stomping through the door. “Where the hell have you been?” she demanded, following Bianca.
His heart plummeted to his stomach. The moment of truth had arrived and now he’d have to face the only person who’d ever loved him without condition or expectation and face how he’d let a moment of lust wipe her adoration away.
The blonde slid from the stool across the room, pausing when she spotted him. She shot him a wicked grin before making her way to Brock’s sisters.
Finn stared after her, unable to move, trying to make sense of this new revelation. The last time he’d seen Gretchen in her running shorts and tank-top fleeing his hotel room, she’d been beautiful, her young body still transforming into that of a woman. Now, with the fabric of her dress hugging the curves of her hips and the tight muscles of her ass, there was nothing childlike or innocent about his friend’s younger sister
Fuck.
“You were supposed to be at the church,” Bianca berated her.
Gretchen shook her head. The blond hair that had once fell in unruly waves had been tamed into a sleek, stick-straight ponytail held by a small band at her nape. “I was at the church.”
Abigail rolled her eyes. “Please, Gretchen. Don’t bother lying, you obviously weren’t.”
Finn spoke up, “Yeah, she was there.”
~ ~ ~
Finn came to stand behind her, his chest a solid wall of warmth at her back. Gretchen suppressed the shiver snaking through her.
“I saw her in the balcony.”
Gretchen lifted her chin. “See. I was trying to stay out of the way, just how Mom likes me.”
Her sisters’ faces fell. They’d obviously been looking forward to their mother giving her hell for missing the rehearsal.
Bianca huffed. “Well, we could’ve used your help.”
Finn’s full lips lifted, revealing straight white teeth and one dimple at the corner of his perfect mouth. “I thought you both did an excellent job.”
Gretchen could’ve sworn she heard panties dropping. She would’ve been lying if she said his smile didn’t have her ready to drop her own. If she’d been wearing any.
“Well, w-we,” Bianca stammered, and Gretchen stifled a laugh.
“I would’ve gotten in your way.” She humored her older sisters. “You know me.”
Which was a lie. Neither of them knew anything about her or her life. No one did.
They both nodded and smiled, their attention focused on Finn. Although growing up, Gretchen had been the one openly adoring her older brother’s best-friend, her sisters had always secretly lusted after him. She turned away from the trio, signaling for a refill of her wine. Behind her, she heard her sisters departing and then Finn’s warmth was again reaching out to her, the smell of spicy masculinity wrapping around her senses.
She smoothed the front of her already smooth dress to keep her hands from shaking. “You didn’t have to cover for me.”
“I didn’t see any reason not to tell the truth.” He studied her over the top of his glass.
“I wasn’t sure you noticed me at the church.”
“I definitely noticed you.” His top lip lifted in a sexy smile that had butterflies taking flight in her stomach.
“You didn’t recognize me though.” She pursed her lips in a fake pout, pleased when his gaze lowered to her mouth.
He gave her an obvious once-over, and Gretchen recognized the flare of lust that turned his gray eyes a bit blue. “No, I didn’t. You’ve changed.”
She gave a satisfied snicker and leaned over, pressing her breasts against his hard chest, making sure her hip brushed lightly against his crotch.
“You’re right. I’m not a virgin anymore.” Her lips brushed his ear, before she turned to join her family.
~ ~ ~
As Finn looked around the ballroom of the Christensens’ hotel, he swore if he ever got married it would be to a poor girl who’d agree to run away and not tell anyone. People were packed into every available inch of the room. He’d be willing to bet the new Mr. and Mrs. Brock Christensen didn’t know half of them.
Finn found Brock across the room, his wife on his arm and a wide grin on his face. A part of Finn envied his friend. Not his wealth. Finn had more money than he knew what to do with, even if he sometimes had to lie about where he got it. Family was another story. Growing up, Finn had always wished for a family like Brock’s. The idea of a sober mother and a father who came home every night, instead of a string of boyfriends and johns, had seemed like a simple enough wish for a young boy. Now, as a man, seeing Brock’s happiness had a part of Finn envying him all over again. Finn would never find a happiness like that, and if he were honest, he’d have to admit he didn’t necessarily deserve it either.
The DJ called the single women to the dance floor, interrupting the morose turn of Finn’s thoughts. A gaggle of women passed him, and Maria broke away from Brock to join them, holding a small bouquet above her head. She studied the eager group of women.
“Where’s Gretchen?” Maria called.
“Gretchen.” The DJ spoke into the microphone. “Gretchen, you’re needed on the dance floor.”
When Finn spotted her at the bar trying to duck behind an elderly man, he laughed.
Her mother took her arm, pulling her into the open.
Maria waved her over. “Come on.”
Gretchen’s eyes turned to daggers aimed at her new sister-in-law before she turned them on her mother. She may have also threatened bodily harm as she made her way through the crowd and to the dance floor.
The music started again, and Maria turned, lifting the bouquet in the air before tossing the flowers in a perfect ar
ch. The women jumped, their arms lifted high above their heads. One woman’s dress slid down, forcing her to drop her arms to keep from revealing her breasts to the entire room. Two others bumped into each other and toppled to the floor. Gretchen stood statue still amid the chaos, watching the bouquet tumble toward the ground. Surprising him, she reached out at the last moment and saved it from hitting the floor.
Maria spun, her eyes going wide at the various states of her single female guests. When her gaze landed on Gretchen standing in her emerald satin, clutching the bouquet in her fist, her face split into a wide grin.
Gretchen’s mouth twitched as she tried to keep from smiling, but Finn had never known her to take life too seriously, and she ended up rolling her eyes as she laughed. Her laugh shouldn’t be so damn sexy. It was just a laugh, not exceptionally deep or husky, certainly not meant to be provocative or sexy, but the sound signaled Gretchen’s pleasure and that went straight to his groin.
“Come on.” Brock clamped a hand on the back of his neck, steering him toward the dance floor and Gretchen. “I can’t be the only one forced to participate in these ridiculous rituals.”
Normally, Finn would have told him yes, he could be the only one. But if his memory served him right, these rituals usually ended in a dance involving the single woman who had caught the bouquet and the poor bastard who caught the garter. If catching this scrap of lace would get his hands on Gretchen again, he’d let Brock lead him anywhere he wanted.
~ ~ ~
Gretchen eyed Finn as he slipped past her, lining up with the other single men on the dance floor. Most of them had been pushed out there by their girlfriends who believed them catching that garter really meant they were closer to getting a ring on their own fingers. So, why was Finn out there?
Brock disappeared under his new wife’s dress, drawing Gretchen’s attention away from the waiting men. Brock moved his hips in an imitation of a sexy dance, forcing giggles from her throat. She hoped for Maria’s sake her brother’s poor dance skills were not a reflection of his moves in the bedroom. Trying to conceal the laugh the thought had brought on, she turned her head, freezing when her gaze clashed with Finn’s. Instead of watching her brother’s attempt at seduction, he was staring at her. Heat flared in her chest, radiating up her neck and down between her thighs.
“Gentlemen, are you ready?” the DJ called as if starting a race.
Finn winked one gray eye before turning away.
She sucked air into her lungs, unaware she’d been holding her breath as she stared back at him. She tried to remind herself for the one hundredth time in two days that he was just a man. A man who had already broken her heart and humiliated her by rejecting her a decade ago, unworthy of another dose of pain. She almost had herself convinced, but then he plucked the garter from the air and turned right to her.
Gretchen could tell herself whatever she wanted, but man or not, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Finnegan James would screw like a god, and she was one hundred percent ready for rapture.
His full lips kicked up and he spun the satin and lace around one thick finger. “Do you get this too?”
Her body threatened to burst into flames right there.
His gaze was that incendiary. But she’d been working undercover for too long to let one too sexy man turn her to ash. At least until she was ready to burn.
She pulled her lip between her teeth and leaned forward. “Only if you’re going to slide it up my bare thigh.”
His gray eyes turned dark, the way she still saw in her dreams sometimes, and he moved closer, his hand clenching possessively at her waist. Before he could come up with a retort, Maria appeared behind him, already chattering excitedly.
Finn cleared his throat and took a step back, his gaze never leaving hers. His expression promised her they weren’t finished, and for the sake of her now damp panties, she hoped he was right.
“You two have to dance.” Maria beamed, locking her arms with theirs and steering them to the dance floor.
The smart, safe thing for Gretchen’s still fragile heart would’ve been for her to decline and walk away. Fortunately, before she could, Finn slid his hands to her waist and pulled her against him. She didn’t know much about Finn James, but her body instantly recognized his. Her nipples tightened, her womb clenched, and her knees threatened to give way, as she fit against his body like a puzzle piece. Of course, they’d fit perfectly ten years ago too, and he’d still turned her away.
His fingers kneaded the flesh at her hips, his warmth sinking through the fabric of her dress and setting her skin ablaze. Breath quickening, she dropped her gaze to where his hardening member pressed against her lower belly. He pulled her closer, moving his hips, rubbing against her and sending her pulse racing.
When the song ended, neither of them pulled away.
He bent his head, his mouth close to her ear. “I have a room upstairs.”
Goosebumps bloomed over her bare neck. “I’ll meet you in mine.” Slipping a key into the pocket of his tuxedo pants, she spun on her heel and left him in the middle of the dance floor.
~ ~ ~
Finn berated himself as the elevator climbed to Gretchen’s hotel room. He shouldn’t be going to her with the clear intention of fucking her senseless. He’d told her a decade ago they were a bad idea, nothing had changed, only he couldn’t convince his dick of it. From the moment he’d realized the sexy blonde from the church was Brock’s little sister all grown up, he hadn’t been able to talk the damn thing in to standing down.
He wouldn’t feel guilty for wanting her and acting on it. She’d been willing as an eighteen-year-old virgin, and he’d done the admirable thing and turned her away. She wasn’t an innocent co-ed anymore, she was a grown woman, and she’d invited him to her room. It would be rude and idiotic to turn her down again.
His heart banged in his chest as he slipped the key card into the slot and pushed the door opened, but the organ damn near stopped when he spotted Gretchen. He didn’t know what he’d expected. Maybe her stretched out wearing a smile and heels and nothing else. Instead, she was still fully dressed, standing by the window, watching the boats on the river below.
He wished she’d gotten naked. Naked women he knew how to handle, but beautiful women who took his breath away? Well, Gretchen was his first experience with that.
He opened his mouth to tell her what a lovely picture she made in her emerald satin with her blond curls tumbling down her back, but instead he clamped his lips together. What was he thinking? He didn’t tell women they were beautiful. Sexy? Hot? Yes. Never beautiful. Beautiful hinted at emotions other than lust and desire, and he didn’t play with those emotions.
He fought the urge to turn and flee. Despite what he’d said about her being a child years ago, he’d never been a match for Gretchen Christensen. She was the one woman capable of cutting him to his knees, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t love every damn second of his surrender.
“I wasn’t sure you’d actually show up,” she greeted without turning.
He imagined striding across the floor, his long legs quickly shortening the distance, and taking her waist in his hands, pulling her back against his chest. He wanted to bend and kiss her neck, as if he could touch her whenever the desire arose.
“I shouldn’t want you like this.” Why did he feel the need to make confessions in her presence?
She did turn now. She no longer wore the cool, polished veneer she’d hid behind the past two days as she stared at him out of emerald eyes that were open and vulnerable, before she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.
She may not be a kid anymore, but he remembered now why he’d pushed her away ten years ago. Gretchen was too good for him. He had nothing to offer a woman like her, he’d never be the type of man to give her the stable life of luxury her mother had groomed her for.
He pulled the phone from his pocket. “I’m sorry.” Turning his back on her, he strode to the door. “What the fuck do you want?” he growled into the phone.
He may be thankful for a moment’s reprieve, but there was only one reason to be getting a call from work—something had gone from sugar to shit.
“I’m two hours away. Can’t Carlisle handle his own damn business for one night?” His gaze moved back to Gretchen.
She still stood by the window, watching him out of narrowed eyes. She was so cool and collected, she’d never fit into the life he lived. Why did that hit him like a fist in the gut? He didn’t want Gretchen in his life, he only wanted one night in her bed. Didn’t he?
He turned away again, listening as Grant fed him the information coming from the club. Yep, sugar to shit.
“I’ll be there.” He ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket. Then, taking a deep breath, he faced Gretchen.
“Gretch,” he started, but she cut him off with a quick jerk of her head. She smoothed her hands over the bodice of her satin dress, drawing his attention to the swell of her breasts over the top of the fabric and the nip of her waist before her hips flared. He wanted his hands on those hips, his tongue tracing the edge of her dress.
“Go, handle whatever you have to handle. I should get back downstairs anyway.”
“It’s probably best,” he tried again. “I was right to stop this years ago.”
~ ~ ~
“Of course,” Gretchen choked out. She’d been so sure he couldn’t break her heart again, but disappointment weighed heavy in it now.