Forgiven: The Nash Brothers, Book Two
Page 11
Presley looks smugly satisfied that I claimed Bowen, and Ryan holds up her hands in surrender. “It’s cool, Lily Pad, you can have the hot fireman. I like to toy with boys … maybe I’ll give Coder McGee over there a whirl.”
Ryan and Forrest might make a good match, but it would probably end in disaster. “Forrest is all yours.”
“It’s a good weekend to be a Nash man.” Hattie chuckles. “If you aren’t getting married, you’re part of the meat market swap. It’s a win all around.”
“Grandma!” Presley laughs, hugging her grandmother.
“Who knew there was a coven of hot men in this small town? It’s like Twilight, but they aren’t sucking the life out of your neck. Or maybe they are. Could be hot.” Ryan shrugs.
I feel a hand on my elbow and look up, Presley’s face turning to the visitor, too.
“Oh, hi.” I breathe, seeing Bowen standing beside me.
It’s hard to suck oxygen into my body when he’s so close, wearing a suit no less. Gosh, he’s so ruggedly handsome it should be illegal. Women everywhere are in danger of passing out when this man cleans up for a fancy dinner.
“Thank you for tonight, Bowie.” Presley winks at him, using the nickname his brothers call him that he hates.
“You’re joining the family tomorrow, so I guess I’ll put up with that bullshit right now. But once you’re a full-fledged Nash, don’t think I won’t pull pranks if you keep the Bowie crap up,” Bowen jokes with her.
Presley looks between us, her smile turning to a scheming smirk. “Noted. Now, why doesn’t the best man walk my maid of honor home? Make sure she gets there safe?”
I roll my eyes at her, knowing exactly what she’s getting at. I haven’t told her, or anyone really, what’s been happening with Bowen. I didn’t want to spoil one of the most important times in her life, especially if things turned sour between her soon-to-be brother-in-law and me before the wedding day. No one needed our drama in their lives. Heck, I didn’t even need our drama, but I loved the man so what was I supposed to do?
“I would be honored to.” Bowen holds out his arm.
Presley looks like she might keel over, so shocked that her plan worked that I kind of want to get her a wet washcloth for her head. I smirk, turning to walk away with Bowen. When I look back over my shoulder, her jaw is still unhinged, her mouth ready to catch flies.
The minute I looped my arm through his arm, I got shocked, jumping a bit. “I must have static, sorry.”
Bowen steers me away from the group, bending down to whisper in my ear. “Or we just have a spark.”
I flush with desire. One sentence from him and I turn to a puddle of lust. How has he always had this effect on me?
“This best man gig has given you some confidence,” I joke as we walk to the door to exit Kip’s.
Main Street is quiet, with most of Fawn Hill having locked their doors and gone to sleep now that it’s well past ten p.m. Bowen and I walk next to each other, not touching but our steps and our bodies in rhythm. It feels intimate, walking alone down the streets we grew up on. They know so much of our history, are part of the landscape of our relationship.
“I’ve always had confidence; you just haven’t seen it in a while.” He smirks.
“No, I haven’t. It’s … attractive,” I confess, butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
“You look beautiful.” Bowen’s gaze warms my face.
His compliment sends tingles through my body. “It’s just the dress … I wouldn’t normally wear something so tight …”
I skim my hands down the burnt orange fit and flare dress that falls to my mid-calf. It’s a corset design on top, and I’m showing more cleavage than I have in years, but I fell in love with the unique design and had to wear it.
“Notice how I didn’t say tonight? You don’t look beautiful tonight. You look beautiful all the time. I can never seem to keep my eyes off you.”
I blink at him as we turn off Main Street and into the neighborhood that funnels out into streets beyond, one of those being my condo community. Bowen is charming tonight, and something about the wedding gives a rose-colored tint to the world. Nothing bad can happen this weekend, and the love that’s always existed between us is a stronger force than I’ve felt in a long time.
“You’re making me blush.” I smile, looking away.
“Good. You deserve to be told. I … regret not being able to tell you every day of the past ten years.” He reaches for my hand.
I lace my fingers through his, loving the feel of his rough calluses beneath.
“Can I say something without sounding … insensitive?” I proceed cautiously.
“Of course.” His head dips, the long dark mop on the top of his head falling out of its carefully created swoop.
“This is weird.” I giggle nervously.
Bowen chuckles too. “I know.”
“I’m used to you avoiding me. To thinking that you hate me. We fell into this pattern of smoldering avoidance, with tense interactions and now …”
“Now we’re holding hands while I walk you home?”
“Yes!” I say, laughing more. “It’s just weird.”
“But good weird?” Bowen asks.
“Yes, good weird. But it feels like I’m in some kind of time warp. As if no years have passed us by at all. Is it possible to feel this connected after what’s happened between us?”
He glances out into the darkness as we turn onto the court where my townhouse is, a pensive look on his face. I take the couple of seconds he’s quiet with his thoughts to admire the steel cut of his jaw. And the way his eyelashes are long and almost girlish, the only feminine attribute he possesses.
“I think, that if you share something as strong as we do, it’s possible.”
Bowen doesn’t say the word love, but he might as well have. My heart pounds in my chest, and before I realize where we are, the three steps up to my front door appear at my feet.
His hand unlatches from mine, but instead of dropping to his side, it travels up my wrist and to my shoulder, where he uses it to pull me in closer.
“I’m not going to ask to come up or accept an invite to. I said I’d walk you home, and we’re taking it slow. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to, though.”
Bowen’s blue eyes flash in the dark as he says this last part. It makes all the parts south of my waist tingle with anticipation. Of next time.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I swallow after asking the dumb question because my throat is dry and of course I’ll see him tomorrow.
He bends, sweeping his lips over mine in a half-kiss. There is no pressure in it, and the kiss to my forehead he follows it up with almost feels more intimate than me naked in his bed.
“Good night, beautiful.”
I’m left standing dumbfounded on my stoop.
The angry, monosyllabic Bowen Nash has disappeared. And in his wake, he’s left the sweet, charming high school sweetheart version that I fell in love with.
I’m not sure who is more dangerous to my heart.
23
Bowen
My night of sleep was fitful, and I tossed and turned with the taste of Lily’s skin on my lips.
It wasn’t the bad kind of restless, but the excited kind. The first-day-of-school kind, the Christmas-morning kind, the championship-game kind.
Because I was anticipating the moment I was in right now. Which was watching Lily walk down the aisle.
As a man, I’ve never really dreamed about my wedding day. Back in high school, I knew I wanted to be with Lily for the rest of my life. I’d been a young, cocky prick with a hot arm, but I knew she was my forever girl. That being said … I had no picture in my head of what us getting married would look like. It was a far-off idea, someday that I’d let her plan and show up for.
But seeing her come toward me in the pink, wispy dress that floated around her body … she looked like an angel. My heart was spasming, going haywire in my chest.
Keaton looks back at m
e from his premier spot on the altar and winks. I nod and try to hide my smile, because really … no one has any idea what’s going on with us. Oh, I’m sure my older brother has his suspicions, but this is his day and I’m not going to burden him with my confusing life.
Lily blushes as my eyes scan down the length of her body, pausing on the way her hips shift, on her perky, round breasts, and then up, to meet those dark, shining blue orbs. Her hair is twisted up into some braided, fairy-like do, and the whole ensemble makes her look like one of those fairies described in a children’s storybook.
Once she’s standing on the other side of the altar, it’s difficult to keep my eyes off her. But I know my gaze needs to be directed straight, to Presley walking down the aisle to her groom. I need to focus on being the best man. Getting Lily out of that dress will be the first priority once my duties for the day are over.
It’s inevitable we’ll end up back in one of our hotel rooms tonight. And Lily may think nothing of spending time together tonight, but I have to be careful. There are many Fawn Hill residents at this wedding, and we all know the gossip runs rampant. It only takes one word along that game of telephone for it to get back to Senator Grantham.
And I don’t need that prick coming into my shop again, threatening me about the pact he and my father made.
The wedding guests sitting in the pews stand as Presley prepares to walk down the aisle. Hattie is escorting her, which I thought might be a sign of disrespect to her father, but apparently, he doesn’t mind.
Both of the women are beaming, Presley in her white gown and Hattie in her beige women’s suit. My gaze swings to my brother, who is …
Keaton is crying. Actual tears are shining in his eyes, and he’s biting his lip as if he’s trying not to break down like a baby. A lump of emotion forms in my throat, and dammit, these people are basically making my balls shrivel up.
When Presley reaches Keaton, he kisses Hattie on the cheek, and she hands him his bride. It’s all very formal, but each action has significance. They stand together as the priest goes through the service, the vows, and then finally they’re kissing.
“Friends and family, may I present, Mr. and Mrs. Keaton Nash!”
The priest introduces them for the first time, and then my brother and his wife are sauntering down the aisle arm in arm, with smiles so wide their cheeks must ache.
It’s my turn to step down from the altar and take my designated bridesmaid back to the vestibule of the church. Lily meets me in the middle, her eyes shiny with tears.
The minute I touch her, standing here in the spot where we likely would have gotten married, it’s like the whole world disappears. We pause, staring at each other. The life we should have had flashes in front of me. Marriage, children, different careers.
“Hey, buddy, stop mooning and walk up the damn aisle, you’re holding us up.” Forrest jabs me in the ribs with his elbow, and I’m knocked sharply into reality.
I smile at Lily, covering up the heaviness that weighs on my mind and extend my arm to her. She takes it, and they fit perfectly together.
I don’t miss the way some guests watch us as we walk toward Keaton and Presley, who are getting ready for their receiving line.
As soon as we take our places in line, I turn to Forrest and whisper, “I need a drink.”
He looks to his left, at Penelope, and turns back to face me. “You and me both, brother.”
* * *
The night has turned into a blur.
With our joint-brother toast done and over, dinner eaten, and the first dances out of the way, we’re all free and clear to get wasted.
And that’s exactly what I’ve done. Family members from out-of-town keep getting rounds of shots, my wine glass was never empty during dinner, and cocktail hour saw me nursing two glasses of whiskey.
The liquor, and watching Lily in a church during a wedding, even if it wasn’t ours, is messing with me. I’m being sloppy, even though I promised myself I wouldn’t publicly grope or flirt with the maid of honor in this wedding.
But she’s gorgeous, and dancing, and smiling as she laughs and it’s impossible to stay away from her.
Which is why we’ve basically been glued together on the dance floor for the last hour. My hands on her hips, her fingers tangling in my hair. Lily’s been pulling me by the tie, jokingly being seductive, and more than once, my cock has been ground into her ass.
I’m too buzzed to notice the strange, almost jaw-dropping looks we’re collecting, but I know people are in fact looking. But this is happening, and I’m a fool for thinking that we could just take things slow. Hiding our relationship was never going to work, not when people have watched us like hawks for ten years when we weren’t involved.
“What is happening?” Fletcher muses as he watches Lily hook me like a fish on the dance floor.
“We’ve been transported from Keaton’s wedding to some alternate universe.” Penelope throws her body around, dancing like a maniac as she cackles.
I’m not much of a dancer. Hell, I’d say that nobody in this room aside from Lily has ever seen me dance. I don’t like to do it. But give me a whole bottle of liquor, practically, and I’ll make a fool of myself.
Shimmying across the center of the floor, as if I’m a fish on the line, I jump on over to Lily. By the time I scoop her up in my arms, my brothers and the bridesmaids are hysterically laughing at me.
And it’s so much fun, I don’t even care.
Lily giggles into my neck, and I carry her off the floor, needing a drink. Of water? I probably should. But most likely, it’ll be whiskey.
Setting her down, I have to steady her as she stumbles on flat feet. She took those sexy heels off an hour ago, much to my dismay.
“You’re drunk.” I chuckle, seeing through booze goggles myself.
“And you’re handsome.” Lily winks at me.
I forgot how flirty she is when she gets a little alcohol in her. Typically, Lily is reserved and friendly. She’s not very sarcastic and is kind to her core. But when you give her some drinks … that saucy side comes out.
We’re kind of similar in that way because the introvert I’ve morphed into seems to become a fun alter-ego when there is whiskey involved.
I palm her waist, the darkness of the corner shadowing us, and back her up into the wall. “Good thing I found the maid of honor before midnight.”
“Why? Am I going to turn into a pumpkin or something?” She snickers.
I smooth my hand down her cheek. “No … I …”
Lily cracks up as I can’t seem to remember my train of thought.
“Well, I was going to say that the best man has to take the maid of honor home, but I forget where I was bringing midnight into play? Either way, I think we’re supposed to have wedding sex. It’s one of our duties.”
She nods solemnly. “Is that so?”
“It is decidedly so.” I bend, my lips so close to hers.
“Now you sound like a Magic 8 ball.” Her giggles hit my mouth.
“And you smell delicious,” I whisper right before I cover that mouth with mine.
Our train of thought makes no sense, but the tingling longing that’s been stemming from my cock all night flares with desire when Lily’s tongue invades my mouth.
We’re making out like teenagers in the shadows of a crowded room, and it feels so illicit and hungry that when my brain begs for me to press my hips into her core, I do.
Lily groans into my mouth, one leg raising to hook around my hip. I catch it, her dress sliding up until my fingers stroke silky skin.
The change of a song catches my ear, and I break our foreplay off with a rasping breath.
“We need to get out of here before I fuck you in public right on top of the head table.”
Those sapphire eyes turn molten, and I grab her hand before either of us can rethink this.
24
Bowen
The hotel room door slams into the wall as we bust through it.
�
�Thank goodness Keaton was such an ass about making everyone stay in the hotel.” Lily giggles as she kicks her heels off.
I’m wrenching my tie from my neck, fumbling to uncoil it and throw it across the room. “Fuck, he was a prick about that. I’ll have to thank him.”
We’re doing a drunk tango through the short entryway in my queen-size deluxe, the only room that was left by the time Keaton put his foot on my metaphorical neck and forced me to get a room within the block. The Queen Anne Inn was the only hotel for twenty miles around Fawn Hill and was located exactly five minutes from the wedding venue, which was also five minutes from my house. It was ridiculous to have us pay to stay here, but Presley had expressed to my brother how fun it would be if everyone woke up in the same place the morning after the wedding and ate brunch together. And what Presley thought would be fun, was Keaton’s job to make happen.
Now, though, I was going to have to pat my brother on the back.
“Why do you have so many buttons?” Lily whines as she hastily works her way down the white shirt under my tux.
“And how the heck do these straps work?” I growl, frustrated that her skin is encased in so much fabric.
The buzz of the many drinks consumed at the wedding flows through my veins, charging the sexual energy between us just a little bit more than normal. Being under the influence of alcohol makes being under the influence of Lily that much more intoxicating. I don’t need to think. Not about the ramifications of pinning her beneath me, or about what we’ll tell everyone who saw us almost making out on the dance floor, or about the threats her father’s made against me.
My inhibitions are nonexistent, and that means I can focus solely on giving Lily pleasure and taking it in return.
“Yes,” Lily moans the second she’s freed my abs from the shirt.
I shuck my jacket off, the shirt follows, and then I’m standing there while her fingers explore my pecs and torso. Her hands are small and soft, lighting a path of fire everywhere they touch.