by Louise Bay
Having grown up with four brothers who would fight to the death rather than admit they were wrong, Madison’s admission had me flummoxed.
“I don’t think it’s so unusual,” she said, spearing another bite of chicken.
“Well, unusual or not, I like it.” It wasn’t her acquiescence—I wasn’t so insecure I had to dominate every interaction with another human being. It was just that she’d listened to me and decided to change her mind. That took confidence. It was the confidence that sent me over the edge.
She grinned a wide, open, innocent grin and shrugged, and for a split second I was transported back to endless summers playing in the sprinklers with my brothers and making dens in the woods, to drinking tomato soup and using sparklers as light sabers on bonfire night, to a time when life was simple. Straightforward. Fun.
“So, what are these deep, dark secrets you’re so desperate to share with me?” I asked.
Madison pushed her knife and fork together and dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “When I have a deep, dark secret to share, you’ll be the first to know. What about you? I estimate we only have about twenty minutes until the speeches start, so you may have to resort to bullet points.”
I had to swallow down a chuckle. I wasn’t used to having so much fun at weddings. “Oh, you’d be sorely disappointed. I really have nothing to hide. After all, I’ve already told you that I want to take you to bed.”
Her eyes widened slightly and a blush brushed her cheeks, but she covered her fluster well. “I don’t go to bed with men I don’t know.”
“What do you need to know?” I asked. “I’ll answer any question you ask.”
We were interrupted by the servers clearing our plates. They replaced our chicken with some kind of chocolate thing. “You going to eat yours?” I asked, taking a mouthful and hoping she would say no so I could have it.
“Err, yes. It’s chocolate, so of course I am. Only a monster would say no to chocolate.” She took a forkful of pie or pudding or whatever it was and left a trace on the corner of her mouth.
“Madison,” I said as she took another mouthful. “Are you leaving me some?” I tapped the corner of my mouth. She wiped the wrong side of her mouth with her fingertip.
“No,” I said, shifting around so I had a better angle. “Here.” I leaned toward her, cupped her face with one hand, and pressed my lips against the chocolate, kissing it away.
I held her for a split second longer than I needed to, wanting to savor her warmth and breathe in the scent of orange blossom lingering on her skin before releasing her and sitting back to face my pudding. “You taste delicious.” My voice growled lower and quieter than before. “I knew you would.”
The blush that had started on her cheeks crept across her chest. Still, she stayed quiet while she took another bite—this time without leaving anything for me to taste. “You kissed me,” she said finally.
“No,” I replied. “I licked you.”
She stayed focused on the chocolate in front of her. “You’re insane,” she whispered to her spoon and shaking her head. “You can’t go around licking perfect strangers.”
“Did you like it?” I asked, shooting her a sideways glance.
“Nathan Cove, you’re incorrigible.”
Four
Madison
Nathan Cove was a lot.
I couldn’t believe the man actually licked me. Just like that. In a roomful of people. And while I wasn’t quite ready to admit as much, I had enjoyed it. His huge hand on my face, his stubble against my skin. His tongue, hot and firm. Just thinking about it had my breaths coming faster, like I was in the Jane Austen adaptation he’d accused me of being in.
I wasn’t used to men being so . . . forward. Intense. Single-minded about . . . me. It was bewildering.
The speeches began and Nathan shifted his chair so his leg brushed against mine. I glanced at him just as he leaned forward, and before I realized what he was doing, my entire chair was moving toward him.
“There,” he whispered. “That’s better.”
We were still an inch or two apart, but the added proximity lit something up in me. At one point, his leg grazed mine and although he barely touched me, it was as if he’d stripped me naked, laid me across the table, and was licking me from head to toe. My skin buzzed, and I sucked in a breath, trying to contain the swirl in my stomach, the clutch of my chest. It was that same feeling I had when I went sailing one summer in Scotland—the thrill of the wind pulling up my hair, the roar of the wind and rushing water blocking out every other sound. It was exhilarating but a little scary, and perhaps that combination was what made it so enticing. The memory had never left me, and I had a feeling this moment, too, wouldn’t fade for a long time.
I knew what I would face in an evening with Nathan Cove. Fire. Water. Something to cling to and something to run from. It wouldn’t be boring, that was for sure.
I scanned the other people at the table but everyone’s attention was fixed on the speeches. No one was looking at Nathan and me.
The first speech was a blur, and when Noah got up to give his, I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus with Nathan touching me. I placed my hand over his and whispered in his ear, “You’re going to have to give me a time-out while Noah and Truly give their speeches.”
He frowned and narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure I understand the correlation between this”—he glanced down at our joined hands—“and . . . the speeches.”
“Because I can’t focus on anything but you when you touch me.”
He held my gaze for too long and then said in a raspy whisper, “I don’t want to focus on anything else when I’m touching you.” He withdrew his hand and began to clap as Noah was introduced, leaving me desperate for a fan, a drink, some air. This man was meant to be someone to pass the time with while at a wedding, not someone who left me breathless and had me wondering whether or not I’d left my bedroom a mess.
Throughout Noah’s speech and then Truly’s, Nathan did as I’d asked and kept his hands to himself. Although he was simply honoring my request, part of me spent the time wondering whether he would touch me again and if he did, would it really feel as powerful as it had done the first time?
By the time the speeches were over, I was a tightly wound ball of craving. I had started to wonder what a man like Nathan could do when we were naked. If he could completely unravel me with just a graze of my leg, what waited for me when it was just the two of us, alone and uninhibited?
“I’m glad Truly got to speak,” he said as Truly sat down. “I’ve always found it ridiculous that only the groom gets a say at these things.” He reached over for his tequila and topped us both up after the woman the other side of him refused.
“That’s very evolved of you,” I replied, not expecting him to have a thought about it.
“If you knew me, you wouldn’t be so shocked.” He took a sip of his drink and fixed me with his gaze.
For a second, a picture of him flashed in my head: a park, springtime, cherry blossoms and laughter. And though I couldn’t see myself beside him, I knew I’d made him laugh. The vision of it was so clear, it could have been a memory. I cleared my throat and came back to myself.
“You keep telling me how you’re different to the man in the papers. Maybe the gentleman doth protest too much,” I said, teasing because he hadn’t really been protesting much at all.
He shrugged, and I realized I wished I knew him a little better. I wanted more of him than small talk and unintentional touches. I wanted to sleep with this man. I hadn’t kidded myself into thinking he wanted anything more than one evening with me—he’d been perfectly clear, which was . . . refreshing. But I wanted to explore him a little longer.
And I’d just done my bikini line yesterday, and my legs had been waxed only a week ago. If I was going to have an impromptu one-night stand, tonight was as good a time as any. We had mutual friends, so he likely wasn’t harboring some secretly violent, sadistic side. I’d make him w
ear a condom. What did I have to lose? Worst case scenario, I’d have some mediocre sex. Best case scenario, I’d get to see his body naked, forget I had a career to salvage, and maybe even have an orgasm, which hadn’t happened courtesy of someone else in a long while.
“So, what’s next?” Nathan asked as people started getting up from their seats.
“Cake cutting and then the first dance.” I stood and moved around my chair. Nathan did the same. “And then I’d say we can excuse ourselves.”
“We can?” he asked.
“If you still want to?”
“If you’re saying in rather a roundabout way that you want to see me naked then yes, I still want to.” He slid his hand onto the small of my back and led me toward the gathering crowd around the cake.
“If I ever get married, I’d just have dinner with a bunch of people. No ceremony. No white dress. Does all this,” I said, gesturing to the people and the cake and the ballroom, “appeal to you?”
“I don’t have to think about it. Marriage isn’t . . .” He paused, keeping his gaze forward. “I have no interest in getting married, so it’s not something I’ve considered.”
“Oh?” I said, painting on a disappointed expression. “And I was working up the courage to propose.”
He chuckled. “Well, if you’re asking, maybe I’d say yes.”
I laughed. He seemed to take everything in his stride. “Let’s see what you’re like in bed first. You might have a tiny penis.”
“Madison Shore, I made a promise to you never to joke about cutting off your hair. You have to promise me never to joke about me having a small penis.”
I laughed and elbowed him in the ribs.
“I mean it,” he said, narrowing his eyes as if he were giving me a grave warning.
“I wasn’t joking,” I replied. “If I don’t propose, you’ll know the reason why. But don’t worry. You’ll get over me and learn to live again. I promise.”
“You’ll be in love with me by morning,” he said, snaking his arm around my waist and pulling me toward him as if I’d known him a decade rather than a couple of hours. The heat of him warmed me like fire. I just hoped I wouldn’t get burned.
Five
Nathan
I might hate weddings, but Truly and Noah’s had taken a turn for the better. Having Madison try to mandate what was going to happen between us and when was at least amusing.
She wanted me to wear a condom. This was no concession. It was a necessity as far as I was concerned.
She wanted to have sex in my room, then hers, then mine. She’d decided hers last I heard. This meant I could leave whenever I wanted, which worked for me.
She wanted me to leave before falling asleep. Another given.
She didn’t mind kissing. It was a good thing, too. No kissing would have been a deal-breaker for me.
Madison was a planner. And she liked to hear my opinion about everything. Which was difficult because I was happy to go along with most things she wanted. We were aligned on the end result and that was all that mattered.
“Okay,” she said, turning away from the dance floor and toward me. “Let’s go.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “No more questions? Requirements? No more boundaries? Do I need to sign something?”
“Whoever told you that you were funny was lying,” she said, then turned on a heel and headed toward the exit.
I chuckled, following her.
As we reached the lifts, she reached out to press the button and I captured her hand, pulling it into mine. Then I reached across her and called the lift.
“Hey,” she said. “I was going to do that.”
“Listen, Madison, you’ve been very . . . vocal about how you expect things to go this evening.” The lift doors opened and when she hesitated, I gestured for her to go first. “But,” I said as I followed her, “you need to relax. You’re not leading the Girl Guides on a camping expedition or studying for an exam. This isn’t a business transaction. Not everything can be planned and led from the front.”
“I’m a planner,” she said on a sigh. “A researcher. I like to understand all the details, you know?”
I laughed. “Yeah. I might have only known you a few hours, but I picked up on that already.”
“It’s probably why I’ve never had a one-night stand before,” she said, staring straight ahead at the panel of buttons.
I stalked toward her, backing her into the corner of the lift. “This isn’t going to be just a one-night stand.” I stroked my fingers over her cheekbone and pressed my hips into her soft, pliant flesh. She gasped. “It’s going to be an experience, a night to surrender, a night to forget everything else. Stop planning.” I dipped and placed a kiss on her neck, just below her ear. “Start feeling.”
Her shoulders began to drop and she brought her hands up, smoothing them over my chest.
Yes.
That’s what I liked. The touch of a woman. It was better than exercise, better than alcohol, better than any extreme sports to block out the bits of life that I didn’t want to think about.
“Your chest,” she said, almost in awe and then she giggled. The sound was intoxicating. She made her hand into a fist and knocked on my pecs as if I were a front door. “Anyone home?”
I grabbed her hand and placed it on my hardening dick. “You’re so cheeky,” I said, moving her hand over the bulge in my trousers.
“Nathan,” she whispered, chastising.
“What? You didn’t think that you touching my dick was part of this evening? Well, I’m here to break it to you that there’s going to be a lot of you touching a lot of me. And vice versa. There’s going to be a lot of nakedness, a lot of touching. A lot of coming.”
She looked at me, swallowed, and then nodded. “Okay.”
This girl was funny. It wasn’t something she was meant to steel herself for. It was supposed to be enticing.
“You might even enjoy it.”
The lift pinged open. I released Madison and we stepped out. She rummaged in her bag, pulled out her key, and before she could fiddle with it, I took it from her and slid it into the lock. “This is my room,” she said as we entered.
“Well, that’s a relief,” I said, toeing off my shoes and pulling off my tie. “At least we won’t be arrested for breaking and entering.”
I glanced around. Her room was neat, almost as if she’d just arrived. I opened the cabinet under the TV to find clothes, all neatly folded and put away. “Were you planning to stay for a while?”
“Just tonight. Why? You didn’t unpack?”
Did anyone unpack when they were away for just one night? “Let’s get a drink,” I said.
“Okay,” she replied. “To be honest, I’m a little nervous.” It was sweet that she was. Maybe all that preparation was done to distract her from her nerves.
“Don’t be,” I said, pulling out some water from the mini bar.
“Oh, I thought you meant booze-drink.”
“You need to be hydrated.” I twisted off the cap of the first bottle and handed it to her.
“For what?” she asked, taking a sip.
“For tonight.” I took a swig of my own bottle before pulling out my wallet and extracting three condoms. I put them and the water bottle on the bedside table—all essentials in place.
She chuckled—it was half laugh, half panic. “Three? You’re ambitious.” She shifted from foot to foot, her gaze flitting from the condoms to me and then back again.
“Come here,” I said, lifting my chin.
She looked behind her, almost as if checking I was really talking to her and not some other woman standing two feet back, then shuffled toward me.
I didn’t exactly have a type, but if I did, Madison definitely wasn’t it. That wasn’t a bad thing. It just made her different. Everything about her seemed new and intriguing. Her hair was the color of Château Margaux—the one kind of wine I actually drank. I wanted to bury my face in it and breathe her in, then kiss that smart mouth
and push my hands over that perfectly plump bottom. “You’re very pretty.”
She looked at me sternly, as if she was bracing herself for a but.
“Turn around,” I said.
I slid my hands over her hips as she turned. A row of white buttons started halfway down her smooth, pale back and finished at her waist. I traced a finger down her spine, enjoying the quiver of anticipation and the way her skin pebbled under my touch. I hooked my finger in the top and started to undo the pearly fastenings.
Her shoulder blades were locked in place, as if she was waiting for something dreadful to happen.
“Relax,” I whispered, dipping and smoothing my cheek against hers. She was warm and soft and when I inhaled, her scent brought to mind summertime and wildflowers.
I turned her around and cupped her face. Her gaze fixated on my mouth, as if she were readying herself. I wasn’t sure what to make of her anxiety. Was it a compliment, or was she just nervous?
I pressed my lips against hers, trying to hold back from stripping her naked and pushing inside her. I wanted her. Too much. But I wanted her to be free of the nerves first. She needed to realize how good I was going to make her feel.
As I slipped my tongue into her mouth, melting into her, she stumbled against me and I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her toward me. She pressed her palms against my shoulders.
A little sigh came from her throat as she began to relax and her tongue met mine.
After a few seconds she pulled away abruptly and began to fan herself with her hand. “Phew,” she said, taking a deep breath. “That . . . You . . .” She nodded. “The kissing thing.”
If she didn’t manage to finish a sentence soon, I was going to have to give her something to say.
“You’re a great kisser,” I said, wanting to put her at ease. She tasted as sweet as she smelled.
She scrunched up her face. “Really? You—” She pointed at me and then lowered her hand sharply as if becoming aware the gesture was slightly incongruous. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re a great kisser.”