by Katee Robert
Nathan toasted them with his orange juice. “What’s up?”
Gabe glared, though even the forbidding expression didn’t do a damn thing to dampen the happiness practically shooting from him. If ever there was a man counting down until the moment he said, “I do,” it was his brother. “You know damn well what’s up.”
“A wife, man?” Ian shook his head, though his glare barely accomplished as much as Gabe’s. Both men were as happy as he’d ever seen them. Even concern for him wouldn’t be enough to take that away completely. Ian pointed at him, stopping just short of shaking a finger in his face. “How could we not know about this? And why was my sister the first one to find out?”
“A better question is why this wife of yours is here.”
“Yeah, because this has ‘terrible idea’ written all over it.”
While they went on, feeding off each other, Nathan finished half his plate. As he started in on his pancakes, they finally seemed to realize he wasn’t saying a damn thing and fell silent. It was only then that Nathan sighed. “I see you two have talked to Elle.”
“We shouldn’t have had to hear it from my fiancée. You should have been the one to say something.”
And what, exactly, would he have said? That he had a secret wife? Hell, until the weekend was over, he wouldn’t know if they even had a future, though he’d be damned if he gave her a divorce without a fight. “It’s really none of either of your business.”
“My wedding makes it my business.”
“And I’m your best friend. Also my business.” “It’s not a big deal.” It was a big deal, but he could barely face the reality on his own, let alone say it out loud. Being around her brought back memories he hadn’t thought of in years, things he’d pushed to the back of his mind and forced himself to forget through sheer self-preservation.
Ian and Gabe exchanged a look as if deciding who was going to field this one. It was Ian who rubbed a hand over his face and spoke. “Is this about that conversation we had a few months ago? Because when I said you should make things right, I didn’t mean for you to go out and do something crazy.”
God, the last thing he needed right now was their pity. Which was exactly where this was headed. They’d both been worried about him for a long time—and rightfully so, if he was being honest. To have him show up at Gabe’s wedding with a secret bride in tow… Yeah, he’d be worried, too. But he also couldn’t let them believe he’d run off and married her because of a heart-to-heart with Ian. “We were married before that.”
“How long?”
Nathan held up his hand. “I said it’s not a big deal, and it’s not.”
Gabe leaned over the table, looking like he wanted to throttle him. “How long have you been married?”
Shit. “Eight years.”
“What?”
Nathan ignored Ian, trying to silently tell his brother everything he couldn’t say out loud. Chelsea had always been the only one for him. Gabe might have suspected they were more than friends back when they were in high school, but he hadn’t known the truth until now.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“How could I? You were dealing with enough. We both were.” The Army had seemed like his only option back then, the only way he could get out of town long enough to breathe and work through the pain of their mother dying. More than that, though, he’d needed to step up. Marrying Chelsea was one thing, but supporting them both was entirely another. There hadn’t been time in the midst of all that for a conversation about the woman he was in love with.
Which, now that he thought about it, might’ve been half the problem.
“That’s a bullshit excuse, and you know it.” “Gabe! There you are.”
They looked over to Roxanne waving madly for Gabe to join her. He looked back at Nathan. “You will tell me how the hell this happened, but it’ll have to wait for now.”
Thank God. “We can talk after you’re back from your honeymoon.”
“Okay. Fine. Just make sure she doesn’t cause a scene and piss off Elle.” Gabe stopped and shook his head. “Who am I kidding? That’s Chelsea Callaghan you have up in your room. She’s about as likely to cause a scene as the devil himself is to show up at my wedding and challenge Ian here to a fiddling war.”
Ian snorted. “I’ll have you know, I can play a mean fiddle. Theoretically.”
“I wouldn’t bet your soul on it.” Gabe turned back to Nathan. “Let me know if you need anything or… want to talk or something.”
Ian nodded, silently offering the same, even though this entire discussion obviously made both of them uncomfortable. Then he got up and followed Gabe to where Roxanne was now tapping her foot.
There was a reason he’d never shared this particular secret with either of them, aside from a very vague conversation he’d had with Ian a few months ago when his best friend was going through a rough patch with Roxanne. What kind of loser was Nathan that he’d never chased down the woman—the wife— who left him, either to try to reconcile or to serve divorce papers?
He knew the answer to that.As long as he chose to let her go, he didn’t have to deal with the eventuality of their divorce. Once he tracked her down and confronted her, it was over. Yeah, he’d hoped to one day have another chance with her, but he hadn’t been able to face how that encounter would go. She was the one who had left, so while she never filed for divorce, she obviously hadn’t wanted to stay married.
Now that divorce was back on the table, there was no more “what if” or “maybe she’d come back.” Not unless he convinced her to drop the divorce by the end of the weekend. They’d been perfect for each other back then, but so much was different now. He was different, and so was she. Gone was the socially awkward girl he’d initially fallen in love with.
The confident, mind-blowingly sexy woman she was now? So much hotter.
Thinking about how she’d challenged him last night made him crave her even more. He glanced at the clock on the far wall. It was definitely late enough now to wake her up the way he’d promised. He grinned as he contemplated it, his need for her washing away any worries he had about the end of the weekend and dealing with Gabe. She couldn’t deny him any more than he could deny her, and he was going to prove it.
And if he couldn’t, he’d give her the fucking divorce she thought she wanted.
Chelsea was vaguely aware of the sheet being eased off her. She stretched, not quite ready to leave sleep behind, and froze when a warm hand pressed against her inner thigh.
Nathan.
She started to close her legs, but the gentle hand quickly became unforgiving. He squeezed her leg.“We talked about this last night, baby.”
He had talked, but she hadn’t been in any sort of agreement about it. Pushing Nathan only worked if she maintained the upper hand, and in this moment she wasn’t anywhere near the upper hand.
But then his grip shifted, calluses dragging over her sensitive skin, making her think of exactly what he’d described last night. Would he spread her legs and simply look at her? Her nipples hardened at the thought. She remembered the way Nathan used to watch her, as if she were the most desirable thing he’d ever laid eyes on. As if he’d die if he didn’t get to touch her.
As if he’d never love another person the way he loved her.
The past threatened to come crashing down around her, but his touch held it at bay. She tried to shake off the last wisps of sleep fogging her thought process and rein in the lust that had been simmering ever since she first stumbled into his arms in the lobby yesterday. “I never agreed to this.”
“Do you want me to stop? Just say the word and you’re free.”
Even though his hands stayed firm, his thumbs traced faint circles on her skin. Heat pooled between her thighs as she pushed against his uncompromising grip and finally opened her eyes. She felt so small and helpless when he held her like this, the dark heat in his gaze melting places inside her that she had forgotten existed. It was different from the way it’d always been before�
�harsher, less starry-eyed…hotter. A small, traitorous part of her—a part that grew larger by the minute—loved this new harder side of Nathan’s personality and loved being overpowered by him. That part of her wanted more, so much more. Chelsea could no more lie to him right now than she could lie to herself.
“Baby?”
The fight left her body. “Don’t stop.”
Nathan grinned, then flipped her over and slapped her ass, hard enough to take her breath away. Then he kissed the small of her back, the contrast between the pain and pleasure making her jump.“I won’t. I’m going to make you feel so damn good, you’ll never want me to stop.”
He urged her up until her ass was in the air, her knees spread and her shoulders pinned to the bed with his hand on the back of her neck. It wasn’t a comfortable position, but Chelsea stopping caring as soon as his hand slipped between her thighs. “Do you like it when I play rough with you?”
There was no answer she could give that wouldn’t bare it all to him. She didn’t know what it said about her that she was already on the verge of coming just because he’d manhandled her a bit, but she was.
God help her, she was.
Nathan slipped a finger into her, and then two, teasing. “Not going to answer?” He circled her clit, building the pressure inside her until she rocked against him as much as she was able.
Right when she was on the verge of oblivion, Nathan took his hand away. “I asked you a question.”
Chelsea’s breath sobbed out as his fingers penetrated her again. It wasn’t enough to push her over the edge, though it was more than enough to keep her riding that nearly painful high. “Please.”
Instead of heeding her plea, he smoothed his hand over her ass, soothing the sting she could still feel, even through the pleasure. “Do you know how I spent my night? Tossing and turning and rock hard, thinking about you with your mouth around my cock.”
Was there a question in there? Chelsea couldn’t think beyond the strength of his hand at her neck, holding her in place, and the wandering path his other hand took, down the back of her thigh and up the inside to stroke her again. So different, yet so good. She could barely breathe through her want. “Nathan, please.”
“Tell me something. If I’d shoved you down on the bench seat last night and lifted that little tease of a dress, would you have spread your legs for me and let me fuck you on the side of the road?”
She totally would have.
He circled her clit again, the pressure too light to push her over the edge. “Or maybe you would have liked it better if I pulled you into my lap and let you ride my cock.” He pushed two fingers into her. Once, and then again. “I think I’d have preferred that. Then I could’ve pulled down your dress and sucked on your nipples. Would you have liked that?”
“Yes.” If he didn’t let her come, she was going to scream. “Please, Nathan. God, please, please, please.”
He let go of her neck, but she didn’t try to sit up. She was too concerned with the mattress dipping as he shifted behind her and spread her legs farther apart. “What do you want? I’ll give it to you.Anything, baby.” “Your mouth,” she said, her words coming out in a desperate burst. “I want your mouth on me. Make me come, Nathan. Please.”
7
His first lick nearly took Chelsea to the moon. She grabbed her pillow and pressed it to her face to muffle the sounds coming out of her as he stroked her with his tongue, seeming to savor every taste. His hands dug into her thighs, lifting her and spreading her farther, until her knees barely touched the bed and it was his strength alone that kept her in place. He flicked her clit, drawing another sob. She tried to move, to roll her hips, to do anything, but he easily held her in place.
Between each slow drag of his tongue, he spoke, his words nearly lost in the haze of rising desire tearing her apart. “I’ve missed this. Missed the taste of you. Missed the way you shake when you’re about to come.” He shifted, his mouth centering on the little bud of nerves, right where she needed him. “Come on, baby. Come for me. Only for me.”
She screamed into the pillow as her entire body seemed to break apart. Her orgasm rolled through her again and again, drawn out by what he was still doing to her, until she could do nothing but cling to the sheets and shake. With one final lick, he drew back and rolled her over.
The first things her eyes landed on was the tattoo covering his left pec. She didn’t get a chance to see what it was exactly, but its mere presence sent a bolt of heat through her. Later, she’d have to get a closer look. Nathan pulled off her nightshirt and kissed up her body, taking his precious time over her breasts. His hands shook nearly as much as her body did, and the thought that he was as desperate for her as she was for him touched her in a way she didn’t expect.
And then he was in her arms and kissing her and there was no more thinking. She went for his gym shorts, needing them off, needing him inside her, and he was right there with her, shoving them down his legs. His cock slid over her as he ground against her, spreading her wetness and making little stars spark behind her eyes.
This was it. She was finally going to have sex with Nathan again. How badly she wanted this surprised her.
Chelsea reached between them to adjust his angle, pressing him to her entrance—
Someone pounded on their hotel door. For half a second she considered ignoring it. One hard thrust and he’d be inside her, whoever it was on the other side of the door be damned. From the look on his face, he was seriously thinking about doing just that.
Then a familiar voice accompanied the pounding. “I know you’re in there, Chelsea. And I swear to God, I will kick this guy’s ass for thinking he can mess with you like this. You hear that, dude? I’m about to make a scene!”
Nathan closed his eyes. “Do I even want to know who is outside the door right now?”
“That would be my best friend.” It was a shock of cold water to her senses. What had she been about to do? Silly question. She’d been about to have sex. She’d begged him for an orgasm.
Just like she’d begged him not to leave her eight years ago.
He sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
By the time they were dressed and opened the door, hotel security was threatening to carry Danielle off. Chelsea couldn’t quite make herself move out of the doorway, though she blamed her reluctance on her knees still shaking. Collapsing in the middle of the hallway as a result of an earth-shattering orgasm wasn’t going to lend much to her credibility.
Nathan stepped in, smiling at the two men as if he hadn’t just been in an exceedingly compromising position with her. “Sorry about the confusion, gentlemen. This is…”
“Danielle,” Chelsea supplied, because her best friend was standing there, staring at Nathan with her mouth hanging open.
“Right. Danielle.” He glanced at the suitcases by her feet. “Why don’t you take the luggage and your friend into the room and find out exactly what she needed so loudly? I’ll be back after I sort this out.”
She and Danielle grabbed the suitcases and towed them into the room. It was only when the door shut that Danielle shook herself. “That is who brought you here?”
“That’s Nathan.”
She shook her head, sending her long dark hair flying. “I think we need to rewind and start from the beginning. Because when you described your ex, I had pictured a big slobbering brute—or at least a lovesick schoolboy who turned into the brute. That man is built like a brick house.”
“I don’t even know what to say to you right now.” “And I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation. You should be naked and climbing him like a tree. If that isn’t the best way to get him out of your system, I don’t know what is.” Danielle eyed the rumpled bed. “Or maybe that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.”
“It’s not like that.”
Her best friend frowned. “Well, hell, if it’s not like that can I have a shot? Because he is downright delicious.”
Da
nielle with her husband? Over my dead body. “No.”
“That’s what I thought. Besides, he’s your ex and I’m pretty sure that violates some sort of girl code or something.” Her dark eyes lit up. “You’re lucky, you know.”
Chelsea didn’t want to know, but she couldn’t help asking, “Why’s that?”
“I packed you the Danielle Special.” She nudged the suitcase at her feet and grinned. “So tell me about these other groomsmen. Are they all as yummy as yours? Because I might be able to clear my schedule. You know, just in case you need moral support.”
If her best friend stayed—moral support or not— she’d be meddling the entire weekend. “That’s not necessary.”
“It has nothing to do with necessary and everything to do with fun.” She waggled her eyebrows. “But I can take a hint. I’ll go back to my naked weekend, and you go back to waving your freak flag around.”
“It’s not like that,” she said again. Maybe if she said it enough times, she’d actually start to believe it.
“Why not? You want the kick in the ass you need to put him in your rearview mirror, and he obviously wants you naked and in his bed. Seems simple enough to me.”
Deceptively simple advice. Words bubbled up, the need to tell someone the truth nearly overwhelming the need to keep silent. Her marital status was too big of a conversational bomb to be dropped like this, though. Danielle would freak out and demand answers Chelsea wasn’t ready to provide. She and Nathan had far too much baggage to summarize. Especially not when she was supposed to be counting down to the moment when he’d sign the papers and be gone from her life permanently.
For the first time since she’d decided on this course, she actually had a twinge inside her. A twinge that felt an awful lot like regret.
Danielle watched her, a sympathetic look in her eyes. “What do you have to lose?”
Everything. “I don’t know.”
“Just say the word, and I’ll get you out of here.”
She would, too. It didn’t matter what was at stake—her friend wouldn’t hesitate to yank her out of this situation. She took a deep breath. “I have things totally under control.”