by Tania Joyce
His breath coiled with hers. “I can’t wait to marry you.” His hands skimmed over her arms, her back, her ass. One hand slipped between her legs, his fingers circled and stroked her clit. Oh yes.
She rode him harder, clenched around him. “Same.”
Opting out of a Vegas wedding was the right thing to do. The wedding was important to him; she didn’t need to cause a rift between them from day one of their wedded life together. Didn’t want him to have any regrets.
He moaned; the low rumble reverberated through her body. A goofy smile quivered across his lips as she rode him up and down, shivers charged up her spine. His fingernails, scraping down her back, set fire to her flesh. Her insides burned. Every muscle begged for release. More. More. More.
Tilting his hips, he closed his eyes. His jaw tensed. “Shit Gem, I can’t hold on.” With a hard buck, his body convulsed, jerked, and spasmed. His hot release hit deep inside. Watching him come was such a turn on. He dug his fingers into her hips and tugged her toward him. He pushed and penetrated, driving his cock into her. The friction, the rubbing, the heat, sent her over the edge. Shudders coursed through her body. Electricity zipped to every nerve ending and pooled at the base of her neck. Goosebumps skipped across her skin.
Panting, she kissed him. Her heart pounded against his as she came down from her high. “Mmm, best make-up sex. Ever.”
“Best wedding present ever. Marrying in Belize will be the best.”
“Absolutely.” Her lips lingered on his, savoring his delicious kisses and the taste of his tongue. But it was getting late. She smoothed his damp hair back off his face and waved her spongy fingers at him. “We better hop out before we dissolve. We have to meet everyone for dinner.”
“Yes.” He rested his head back on the tub. A blissed out, don’t-want-to-move look swam in his eyes. “At eight o’clock. Don’t want to be late.”
She stood, grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet. He helped her out of the bath and wrapped her in a big fluffy white towel. Walking into the bedroom, Gemma’s mind spun like a turntable, still in shock she’d said no to a quick wedding. But getting hitched here in Sin City would’ve attracted too much attention. Too many fans and paparazzi still lingered after the festival, camped outside the hotel’s driveway entrance and waited to follow any car they left in. It wouldn’t be a private event like they wanted.
She slipped on a short, red, full-skirted dress. Grabbing her socks and her Jimmy Choo combat boots, she flopped on the bed to put them on. Even after making love and reaffirming Belize, the knot in her neck hadn’t subsided. It was like a constant choker tightening around her throat. Surely it was wedding jitters combined with the bunch of death threats.
Regardless of the stalker saying ‘See you in Vegas’, so far, there’d been no security breach, no one had been hurt, so perhaps they were all talk. Hopefully Jones would have news for them when they got home, and he’d be able to put an end to this mess. She stuffed her foot into one boot and zipped it up. Maybe there would be no more letters once news of their bachelor parties flooded the gossip sites. The obsessed fan would see their efforts had been a lost cause and stop. Was that wishful thinking?
She grabbed her other boot and slipped it on. Stomping her feet on the plush carpet, she wriggled her toes, catching sight of Kyle pulling on his ripped jeans and a navy paisley button-down. His abs were rock solid, his muscles flexed, and his smile was heartwarming.
Yum.
For the first time since their wedding plans started, good butterflies fluttered in her tummy, not ones that swirled like a tornado. She’d love to get excited and swept up in the hype of getting married if only she could erase the dark cloud looming over her head. This weekend had left her feeling played. Played like a fool during her performance. It had played on her stress levels so much she’d drunk herself stupid. It played on her mind hoping she’d made the right choice about turning down a Vegas wedding.
She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. No, don’t think that. I’m better than this. She’d committed to Belize.
She pictured the white sand beneath her feet, her beautiful dress, Kyle all sexy and handsome in a suit, the wind teasing his hair. Playing their guitars until the sun rose. That was what she had to focus on. Focus on her future with Kyle.
With just under two weeks until the wedding, surely nothing else could go wrong.
Chapter 11
Chilling at home on his birthday and hanging out with Gemma and their four best friends was exactly how Kyle wanted to celebrate turning twenty-six. They’d been back from Vegas for a couple days, hitting rehearsals hard for their last show this coming Saturday before they had time off for the wedding and honeymoon. Tonight, he needed a break from music, going out and worrying about the threats. But his mind wouldn’t stop racing.
The countdown to the wedding was on.
Three days until their last show. Six days until they flew out. Nine days until he and Gemma tied the knot.
Lexi and Hayden sat on the floor next to the coffee table covered in bottles of white wine and an assortment of spicy Chinese dishes they’d brought. Kara and Hunter lounged on the adjacent sofa with wine glasses in hand. Gemma sat next to him strumming softly on her old guitar, the one her dad had given her. The oriental aroma of ginger and sweet sauces lingered in the air. Everyone was chillaxing except him.
He had so much to do—finalize the charter plane, confirm catering, get the final invitation emails ready to send to their guests. It blew his mind Gemma turned down a Vegas wedding. He’d thought with their friends there, a quick no-fuss service would’ve been what she wanted. But he’d gotten it wrong. Maybe it was bad timing after the festival and parties. He hated he couldn’t read her like he normally could. Something wasn’t right.
Since her bachelorette party, her headache had lingered along with her lethargy. After their dinner in Vegas with their friends and entourage, she’d crashed early. On the flight home, she was ill. At rehearsal today, she’d gone through the set list twice and called it quits. No matter how much he sensed it and how much he asked her what was wrong, she brushed him off. Said there was nothing amiss. They always talked about everything, but her not being honest now worried him. Her laughter was shallow; she kept gazing off into the distance, and she’d lost her sassy spark. At what point did he lose his shit and tell her to snap out of it?
He spiked a piece of chicken onto his fork and waved it in front of Gemma’s mouth for her to eat. But she shook her head. She smiled, but her eyes remained dull and gloomy like she was dead tired. Maybe she was. She’d woken him early to make love. Perfect way to wake up. Perfect birthday present. The new Range Rover in the garage, the perfect surprise. He stroked the side of her head wishing he could erase her worries. “You haven’t eaten much. Do you have another headache?”
She closed her eyes. Every muscle in her jaw tensed. “For the tenth time, I’m fine.”
“Gem, you haven’t been well since Vegas. I think you should go to the doctor.”
“No.” She tilted her head back and groaned. “Can you please drop it?”
He held up his hands, defeated. “All right. All right. I’m just concerned.”
Hayden shoveled fried rice into his mouth and chewed, speaking with his mouth half full. “Kyle, you guys have had a huge week—the festival, the parties, the travel. Hell, I’m still recovering from Vegas. Leave Gem alone.” Sympathy warmed his tone. “You’re allowed to be tired, babe. Ignore Kyle.”
Hunter smirked and refilled their wine glasses. “Gem’s tired because they don’t stop fucking. Busted them at rehearsals. I thought I was bad, but these two . . . damn.”
Heat rose in Kyle’s cheeks. Slipping into the back office during break with Gemma was hot. She’d instigated it. But it was different, like she’d needed to be close, connected, to burn out her frustrations. Still, who was he to deny her an orgasm? Curling his hand around Gemma’s thigh, he jutted his chin toward Hunter. “Jealous it wasn’t you and Kar?”
“Nope.” Hunter took a large gulp of his wine. “We did it this morning. Twice.” Pride and cockiness boomed in his voice. He twisted his wrist and glanced at his watch. “And before the day is out, might get another round or two in.”
Kara blushed as red as the sweet chili sauce on the coffee table. But she arched one thin eyebrow and gave him a saucy stare. “If you do what you did to me this morning, I’m so there.”
Strumming a chord on her guitar, Gemma giggled. “What did he do to you?”
Hunter flicked his tongue like a python and took a quick sip of his wine. “I ate her out until she screamed my name.”
Kyle chuckled and shook his head. Hunter had no filter. Ever.
Kara’s mouth gaped; her wine glass suspended halfway to her mouth. “Do you have to give them details?”
Stealing a sideways glance at Gemma, Kyle gave her a I-so-wanna-do-that-to-you look. She scraped her teeth across her bottom lip with a yes-please glint in her eye. Sweet.
She put her guitar down and placed her hand over his resting on her leg. “Kar, we have no secrets. You should know that by now.”
An ache burned deep inside Kyle’s chest as he stroked his thumb against Gemma’s thigh. No secrets. She was keeping something from him and he hated that she thought she couldn’t tell him.
Hunter dipped his head side to side. “Gem’s right. Get used to it, babe.” He clutched at his jeans and adjusted his crotch. Grimaced and wiggled as if in agony. “But we better stop talking about it because it’s making me hard.”
That was a vision Kyle did not want in his head. He reached for his wedding folder resting on the corner of the coffee table and pulled out his check list. “Can we talk about the wedding instead?”
Gemma sighed and wiped her hands on her jeans. At least she didn’t run for the music room, like she’d done before. She snuggled against his arm. “Since we’re all together, we better. What’s left to do before we fly out next week?”
Kara’s face lit up and she clapped her hands. “Yay. Wedding talk.” She grabbed her cell phone from her tote. “All the suits are ready. Guys, you have to collect them Friday lunchtime. Gemma, we’ll go pick up your dress at twelve-thirty. Lexi, you and I have our final fitting tomorrow.” She took a deep breath and spoke with a pleading tone. “Kyle, is there anything you need help with?”
Kara had been begging to help him as the day drew near, but he had everything under control. He grabbed his cell phone and skimmed through his to-do list. Shit. He still had to book the island transfers, confirm VIP clearance at the airport, check in with security, and order flowers. The list went on and on, but he wouldn’t delegate any jobs. While these friends knew most of the details, he had to ensure as much information as possible stayed private so there’d be no leaks. No slip-ups. No blunders. It added to his stress levels, but he’d handle it. “I’m on top of everything. We’re all set.”
Lexi dished stir-fried chicken onto her plate, grabbed a spring roll and licked her fingers. “My new camera is all set. Hayds hates me taking photos of him, testing all the settings and different lighting.”
Hayden stabbed his chopsticks at her. “It’s weird. I’m not your boyfriend. I’m no supermodel. Just because we’re roommates doesn’t give you the right to shove a lens in my face whenever you feel like it.”
Hayden was totally runway model worthy. Tall, tanned, striking platinum eyes, and with cheek bones even Kyle was envious of. Working as a drummer at one of the shows on Broadway and part time at an indie studio, Hayden did very well with the ladies.
Lexi winked and threw a pea at him. “You love it.”
Kyle chuckled. The sooner they sorted out their feelings for one another, the better. He returned to his list. “Okay, Gem, final guests. Would you like to add Laura and Vicki to the list?”
She groaned and dropped her head back against the sofa. “No more people. There are too many already. How many guests are we up to now?”
He counted the list of names on the page. “Eighteen.”
She dragged her fingers down her face leaving red track marks on her cheeks. “That’s more than enough.”
“What about—”
She stabbed her finger into his bicep. “No. More. People. I still wish it was just the six of us.”
He grabbed her hand. He’d love to have one hundred people present and turn the wedding into a massive party. He hated to give in, but he’d managed to invite those closest to him. He had to be happy with that. He kissed the back of her hand. “Breathe, Gem. It’s okay. No more. I promise.”
She narrowed her gaze. Her eyes flickered with stern warning. “Good.”
Kara cleared her throat and pulled half a dozen printouts from Kyle’s folder and shuffled through them. “Oh, are these the flowers for the wedding?” She spun a picture round. “Gem’s bouquet, ours, and the buttonholes for you guys?”
Kyle snatched the sheets of paper before Gemma could even look at them. “Thanks, Kar. But I already know what she’ll pick. Tulips.”
“Hey.” Gemma went to reach for the pictures, but he held them above his head so she couldn’t get them. He changed them from one hand to the next as she tried to snatch them free. “They need to be dark red. About a dozen of them. Tied with that grass-looking stuff, not ribbons.”
She tickled him in the ribs. “Give them to me.”
Not fair. Being ticklish sucked. He handed her the images. She scanned through the pages, sighed and tossed them on the table. “Yep. He’s right.”
“Told you.” He swooped in to give her a kiss, but she covered his face with her hand and pushed him away. “Fuck off.”
He beamed a broad grin. God, he loved her.
Gemma scooped her bangs off her face, tucked her hair behind her ear. “Can you even get tulips in Belize? It’s too hot, isn’t it?”
Oh shit. He hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll fly them in if I have to.”
Her eyes widened. “Don’t be stupid. I’m fine with something small, just nothing pink.”
“Gem, you’ll have tulips.” He typed into his phone to contact some florists in Belize to see if tulips were possible.
“Do I get to have any say in our wedding?” Her playful tone rippled with a touch of bite.
He ignored it. “Nope. All you have to do is turn up.”
She hooked her arm around his neck and pushed him down onto the sofa ready to play fight. She straddled his hips and pinned his hands beside his head. “You’re crazy. You know that?”
“For you? Yep.” He wrapped his arms around her and drew her in for a kiss.
Their day would be perfect.
“I think we need more wine.” Kara tapped her long fingernails against her glass.
What? Didn’t she like Gemma’s display of affection? Tough. Because he certainly did.
The intercom by the kitchen buzzed. He slapped Gemma on the ass to move. He jumped from his seat and strode over to answer the call. On the screen, caller ID displayed ‘Reception.’ He pressed the talk button. “Hey, Marcus. S’up?”
“Sorry to disturb you, but I just missed a courier delivering an envelope for you. Would you like me to bring it up?”
“Umm . . .” Kyle grimaced, glancing at the wall clock by the kitchen. 8:43 p.m. “It’s a bit late, isn’t it? We aren’t expecting anything.”
Was it another birthday surprise? He doubted it. In addition to the car, Gemma had given him custom-made cuff links in the shape of bass guitars from Leonard’s Jewelers. So cool. Hunter and his friends had bought bottles of wine and food for dinner. Surely there was nothing else.
“It’s from a courier company I don’t recognize. There’s no sender information on the back. It’s just addressed to you.”
Kyle’s belly cinched, twisted his navel into a knot. What if it was another letter?
“Do you want me to notify your security or the detectives?” A hint of anxiousness wobbled in Marcus’s tone. Sam and Jones had debriefed the staff working at the apartment complex a
bout their situation.
What if the letter contained anthrax or something similar? No. Psycho Letter Writer wanted him alive. The letter was addressed to him, not Gemma. He swallowed; his Adam’s apple lurched hard in his throat. His heart thudded too fast. Crap. “No, Marcus. Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it. Send it up.”
A few minutes later, Kyle opened the door and took the package from Marcus. His hand trembled. The light and flimsy letter-sized courier envelope looked as if it was empty other than the outline of an envelope embossing the surface. A rolling wave of bile swirled in Kyle’s stomach. “Thanks, Marcus.”
He turned and met Gemma’s gaze. Her eyes locked onto the package. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as if he knew it was another threat before opening it.
“Kyle? What is it?” Gemma rose like a ghost from the sofa and drifted over to his side. She hugged her arms around herself and tears welled in her eyes. “You think that’s from—"
Everyone gathered around the dining table. Silent. All eyes were on the packet in his hand. With fumbling fingers, Kyle ripped it open. Out fell a pale pink envelope.
Gemma clasped her hand over her mouth, muffling her gasp.
His eyes glassed over, and he struggled to draw breath. “This was delivered to our home? What the fuck?”
He tore open the letter. With a shaky voice, he read out loud:
kyle, you haven’t listened.
i’ve done nothing but love you.
now it’s time to show you how much.
you are mine. mine. minE!
i can’t live without you. I won’t live without you.
gemma WILL pay.
that whore doesN’T love you like i do.
she doesn’t deserve to live.
we will be together.
I promise.
p.s. vegas was fun!
P.P.S. happy birthday.
Gemma’s breath sawed the air like a lumberjack’s blade. She clutched at her chest and grabbed onto a chair.
“Oh shit.” Kara face turned from porcelain pink to pasty white. “Who the fuck is this bitch?”