Wild Wedding Hookup

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  Rolling over, she pushed him on his back so she could take over the pace. Bastien tugged on her bouncing nipples as she rode him hard. His hands clamped down hard on her ass and she arched in pleasure.

  She could see out the sliding glass doors into the vast plains of Upcountry Maui and off in the distance, a sliver of blue and then the great looming of the volcanos. It was exotic and erotic and this felt like both a vacation and coming home.

  “Bastien,” she whispered.

  “Come for me, my love. I want to feel you shake apart.”

  Her nipples pebbled harder at his deep, husky voice and the look of adoration in his eyes. She could forgive him quite a lot if he kept making her feel like she was the only woman in the world.

  Pleasure sparked through her at his guttural moan. “Better hurry, because I’m going to go off any second,” he said.

  “Yes,” she breathed, shivering in excitement. “I want to feel you. Every inch.”

  He sat up, but his arms forced her to stay where she was, riding on top of him with him deep inside her. She came as he was tongue kissing her, and she rocked herself into oblivion. He jerked and moaned and shuddered, but he never stopped kissing her.

  EPILOGUE

  Six months later

  MIKELINA WAS STILL recovering from the bachelorette party, having flown in on a red-eye from New Orleans to make sure all the arrangements at the church and reception hall were perfect for her mother’s special day.

  Originally, Tawny and Kirk wanted to get married by a justice of the peace in City Hall, but somehow over the last six months her mother’s pretty beige suit had warped into an epic lace wedding dress with a cathedral-length train, and the wedding had become the event to go to in South Beach.

  Mikelina couldn’t wait until it was all over and Kirk and Tawny were settled in at the beach house for their honeymoon. It was the last rental that the place would have before it turned over to the new owners, Jace and Kitty Benjamin.

  The good news was that Mikelina wouldn’t have to say goodbye forever to the house and all its wonderful memories. She was still dating Bastien and she imagined that they would be able to convince Jace and Kitty to let them borrow it from time to time. The bedroom off the kitchen was no longer her bedroom in her mind, but her and Bastien’s. And that was a memory that she would treasure forever.

  “Is my veil on straight?” Tawny asked her.

  “You look beautiful, Mom.”

  “I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?” Tawny gripped her arms and looked frantic.

  “I think it’s a little late to be asking this now, but...” Mikelina took in a deep breath. “Yeah, I think you chose a good one.” Kirk adored Tawny and he was an honest businessman who cared about his family and his community.

  Tanner Presley was going to be in jail for at least another five years before he was eligible for parole. It was time for all of them to realize that their lives had been forever changed. Mikelina only hoped her father would learn something and work toward absolution in his new future.

  “Okay, they’re playing our song,” Mikelina said as the “Wedding March” started. Tawny had wanted her to walk her down the aisle.

  Kirk had the aisle strewn with purple rose petals because they were her mother’s favorite. Blinking back tears, Tawny smiled at all their friends and family. Mikelina’s gaze snagged on Bastien who was looking delicious in another custom-tailored suit. She felt herself blush at the carnal, possessive look he gave her.

  The passion between them hadn’t faded yet and Mikelina thought she would always want him as desperately as she did the first night in the club. It was nice not to hide who she was anymore, but it was even better to realize that she wasn’t defined by her father’s crimes, and anyone who wanted to paint her with the same brush didn’t deserve her time or attention.

  The ceremony was short and sweet and after Kirk kissed his bride, the entire congregation got a surprise when Christian Dibiasi came out and played his latest hit for the bride and groom to dance back down the aisle to.

  Selena gripped her arm when they were leaving the church. “Please tell me you can introduce me to him,” she said.

  “I think I can arrange that.” Mikelina knew Selena had a huge crush on the musician. After everything Selena had done for her, it was the least she could do to make Selena’s dream come true.

  Speaking of dreams coming true, waiting outside the church was Bastien. He picked her up and whirled her around.

  “What was that for?” she laughed, hanging on for dear life.

  “I love you, that’s what it’s for.”

  Mikelina hugged him tight. “I love you, too.”

  “I got something for you,” he said, but he was interrupted by the loud beeping of Kirk’s Cadillac as it pulled away from the church trailing tin cans and scrawled with happy messages.

  She reached down and, as discreetly as she could, palmed Bastien’s cock. “Does it involve a limo?”

  “It could,” he said, taking her hand away. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and then got down on one knee.

  “Bastien,” she gasped.

  “Wait! Shit! Wait!” Kitty came running over to them. “Damn these stupid heels. Hold up.” She had her phone out and was taking pictures. “Mom and Dad wanted me to film this, but I can’t figure out the camera.”

  “Buzz off, squirt,” Bastien said.

  “Come on,” Jace said, guiding his wife away. “We can stage a proposal for the parents later. Let Bastien have his moment.”

  “Maybe he’s not such a douchebag after all,” Bastien said when they were out of earshot. “Anyway, back to us.” He cleared his throat. “Mikelina Presley, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Mikelina forgot to breathe. She had just moved to New York to be closer to him. She was working in a boutique hotel in Manhattan and was considering moving in with Bastien. She’d never even suspected he was going to propose. Of course, they had been spending every waking minute together and most of the sleeping ones, too.

  “Are you sure?” she squeaked. “Won’t my father damage your reputation?”

  “I don’t care if he does. I want you as my wife. I didn’t think I would ever remarry. I didn’t think I would want anyone to be as close to me as you are. But I’ve liked you from the moment I first read your emails. When I heard your voice for the first time, I wanted you in my bed. And once I had that, I never wanted to let you go. Be my wife?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course.”

  He got up and whirled her around again. “I hope you don’t mind being late for the reception.”

  Waving his hand, Bastien gave her a smoldering look as a limousine pulled up to the curb.

  “No one will notice if we’re a few minutes late,” she said as he slipped a diamond engagement ring on her finger. It was a marquise cut that reflected the sunshine and she was momentarily dazzled by it and by the handsome man beside her.

  “It’s going to be more than a few minutes,” he growled in her ear. “I want you wearing nothing but that ring.”

  “Sounds like a plan I can definitely get behind.” She bumped him with her hip as she climbed into the limo.

  * * *

  Look for Jamie K. Schmidt’s next book,

  Holiday Hookup, in October 2020!

  And if you liked Wild Wedding Hookup, why not try:

  Hot Boss by Anne Marsh

  At Your Service by A.C. Arthur

  Guilty Pleasure by Taryn Leigh Taylor

  Available now from Harlequin DARE!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Guilty Pleasure by Taryn Leigh Taylor.

  WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM

  Take control. Feel the rush. Explore your fantasies.

  Step into stories of provocative romance where sexual fantasies come true. Let your inhibitions run wild.
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  CHAPTER ONE

  SOMEONE WAS GOING to pay.

  Wes Brennan just had to figure out who.

  Accepting the lumpy manila envelope the guard slid under the Plexiglas barrier, Wes ripped into it and dumped the contents on the stainless steel counter.

  He grabbed his watch first, fastening the platinum band around his left wrist. His blue silk Brioni tie was unceremoniously shoved into his pants pocket, along with his keys. After a quick inspection of his billfold—one hundred dollars and all his plastic—it, too, was tucked away, this time in the breast pocket of his suit jacket. If he’d known he was going to end up in jail, he would have stopped at an ATM first. A hundred bucks probably wouldn’t even cover his cab ride home if traffic was bad, and in LA, traffic was always bad.

  Wes picked up the last item on the counter. He barely recognized his bearded reflection in the black screen of his phone. Well, what was left of his phone, anyway. He’d watched an FBI agent strip it of its SIM card, which was still evidence in his active and ongoing case, the day they’d put him in cuffs. He pressed the power button a few times, but to no avail. Clearly no one had thought to turn his phone off after whatever the hell they’d seen fit to do to it during his incarceration. With a sigh, he slid it into the same pocket as his wallet.

  The mandated hiatus from the digital world was probably for the best, he decided. Cybersecurity expert rips off his clients. Yeah, he could see the press getting some mileage out of that. He’d take the reprieve while he could get it.

  Then he tossed the empty envelope in the designated bin and walked out of prison.

  Ten days he’d been held like a mongrel at the pound, focused on this moment—liberation—but when he stepped beyond the squeaky metal door and back into the world, what he felt was not so much relief as wariness. A haunting certainty that the dog catcher loomed around the next corner, or the one after that. He wasn’t out of this nightmare yet. Not by a long shot.

  It didn’t help that California’s famous sunshine was nowhere to be seen, swallowed by dank, gray clouds that reflected his mood. The air was foul with smog. Wes took a deep breath anyway, inhaling the tainted scent of freedom.

  He wanted to incinerate the suit he’d been arrested in with a blowtorch.

  He wanted to scald any remnants of the experience from his skin with a blistering shower.

  But most of all, he wanted vengeance. With every cell of his being.

  Odd, then, that he was so easily and thoroughly distracted when he caught sight of the woman who was waiting for him at the end of the sidewalk.

  She’d been wearing a red dress the first time he’d seen her, at an overstuffed party, in a frat house that reeked of booze and pot and hormones. Her dress now was the same color, but streamlined and structured, tailored to perfection to skim the long, sleek lines of her body. Back then it had been short and flowy, fluttering around her thighs in a way that made his fingers ache to inch it higher.

  Gone, too, were the wild brown curls of her youth, replaced by an angled bob that showed off sharp cheekbones and made the generous curve of her mouth look even softer and more inviting in contrast. Her lips were painted the same red as her dress.

  Vivienne Grant.

  The last person he wanted to witness his personal and professional nadir, and yet, an oddly fitting choice.

  After all, what was hell without your very own devil incarnate?

  “Hello, lover.”

  Her voice still grabbed him by the balls. Throaty. Sexy. Poisonous.

  Wes’s chuckle held no mirth as he stopped in front of her. “And to think I thought things couldn’t get worse.”

  The slow curve of her mouth was mesmerizing.

  “I knew you’d be surprised.” Vivienne’s eyes glittered, hard and sharp.

  Beautiful. She’d always been so fucking beautiful.

  “Did Whitfield send you?” Just saying his former client’s name made anger surge in Wes’s veins, and he had to actively relax his fists. For the last two months, he’d poured all of Soteria Security’s time and resources into figuring out how someone had bested their top-of-the-line security system and hacked Max Whitfield’s tech empire. As thanks, Max and his business nemesis, Cybercore CEO Liam Kearney, had joined their considerable forces and accused Wes of the crime before siccing the FBI on him. Not that he and Whitfield had ever had the fuzziest feelings for one another, but he’d deluded himself into believing there was respect there.

  Now, all bets were off.

  “Hardly. He’s still very upset with you.”

  Wes hiked his pant leg high enough to reveal his state-of-the-art, tamper-proof ankle monitor. “You can tell him the feeling’s mutual.”

  “I can’t actually. I quit last week. Max is no longer my concern.”

  The announcement surprised him, though he masked it. Lead counsel at Whitfield Industries was the sort of power gig Wes had assumed would need to be pried out of her cold, dead, lawyerly hands. Vivienne’s career had always been priority number one. Six years ago, he’d been stupid enough to test that theory, and his hubris had resulted in an incisive verbal flaying, a glorious breakup fuck and her walking right out of their place and onto a plane bound for Yale.

  The resulting years of radio silence had come to a crashing halt a year ago, when she’d returned to LA to accept a position as Max Whitfield’s legal consigliere.

  The current state of their relationship consisted of little more than the coldest of professional acknowledgments and an undercurrent of venom whenever they sporadically ended up in the same meeting.

  Of course, now that neither of them worked for Whitfield in any capacity, the thin layer of civility that had coated their professional interactions for the last twelve months was no longer required.

  “Then to what do I owe the distinct lack of pleasure?”

  Icy amusement arched Vivienne’s brow. “I was in the neighborhood.”

  Dread settled cold and flat in his gut at her ill-timed appearance in his world, but he kept his expression bland. “Terminal Island seems a little outside your usual radius. Are you in the market for clients? Or dates?”

  There was no reason it should bother him that her laugh sounded rusty.

  “Invec
tives, Wesley? And to think I was expecting a thank-you for using my kick-ass lawyer skills to get you out on bail.”

  Not good. Not fucking good at all. “You’re not my lawyer.”

  She wasn’t his anything. Not anymore.

  “Well, I believe you were made aware that Denisof Price Goldberg is no longer interested in representing you going forward.”

  Ha. The bastards couldn’t disassociate fast enough. DPG had dumped his ass almost the moment he’d been arrested, citing conflict of interest with their ongoing role as counsel to Soteria Security.

  Proof that his company, the one he’d built with brains and sweat and sacrifice, was disassociating. It was what he and his partner, Jesse Hastings, had agreed to when they’d been making contingency plans, something they’d written into the contract when they’d incorporated. Just one of many business-first precautions—a what-if that was never supposed to happen.

  Wes gave a terse nod. “I was.”

  That, he’d been expecting. What he hadn’t been expecting was the hesitancy by several other large law firms—all directly or indirectly affiliated with some of Soteria Security’s biggest clients—to also balk at the idea of representing him.

  Blackballed. Whitfield and Kearney wielded their clout with devastating precision, he’d give them that.

  “I wasn’t, however, made aware that I had new representation.”

  Something flashed across her face that he might have labeled remorse if he hadn’t known that Vivienne was incapable of it.

  The odd look was replaced with haughty disdain as she straightened to her full height. In her heels, she was only about two inches shorter than his six-three. “So how did you think you got released today? Magic legal fairies?”

  “I figured my assistant had finally hired someone.” Wes aimed for an offhand shrug. “We had a very promising meeting scheduled with one of LA’s most elite attorneys. You might have seen his picture on some of the bus stop benches downtown.”