by Lori Foster
Even Bryan and Brace's father joined the bachelors.
Bruce went to his radiant wife, knelt on one knee, lifted her skirt, and, ignoring the cheers, slid her garter down. Just doing that, and with Joe and Bryan heckling him, had him at the end of his fuse. He needed to get her alone, and soon.
Bruce looked out in the crowd, aimed for his father just for the fun of it, and shot the garter.
Unfortunately, it smacked Scott right in the forehead. He groaned and pretended to reel while Austin tried laughingly to keep him upright. Scott scooped the boy up and they both went down in the grass.
Alyx. hurried over with false sympathy and a seductive, "Poor baby," that had Scott rigid in only a heartbeat. But he wasn't fast enough to remove himself. Alyx was already on her knees and easing his head in her lap. Scott's only defense seemed to be playing dead. It didn't deter Alyx, but the moment Cyn prepared to throw the bouquet, Alyx dropped his head with a thunk and pushed back to her feet.
There were only three available females in the group. Because Willow was only fifteen, and because Julie was totally disinterested in giving up her newfound freedom, the two of them chatted a few feet away while Alyx stood with her hands on her hips, ready to nab the prize. Cyn turned her back, closed her eyes, and pitched the flowers into the air.
Grinning, Alyx reached up. But just as the bouquet would have landed in her arms, Scott, who was still on the ground, grabbed her ankle and sent her toppling into his lap. Out of sheer instinct, Julie caught the flowers against her chest.
That brought hilarity to everyone but Alyx, who tried to yell, but couldn't—not with Scott kissing her.
Bruce looked at all his wacky friends, laughed with the sheer joy of it, and returned to his wife.
"Hello."
She was breathless, flushed. Stunning. "Hi."
In such a short time, she had become the most important person in his world. Bruce cupped her face and stared down at her, wishing she could understand what she meant to him, how much joy she'd brought to him. "I think that finishes all the ridiculous rituals and now I can finally get you alone."
"Finally," Cyn agreed, and her eyes were sparkling in anticipation.
Julie approached them to hand Cyn back her bouquet "I think brides like to keep these things."
Bruce hugged Julie into his other side. "So what do you think? Has your romantic future been given a nudge by fate?" He nodded at the bouquet that Cyn now held.
Julie said, "No," at the same time that Jamie said, "Yes."
With a comical look on her face, Julie reiterated, "No. I don't believe in that nonsense."
Jamie shrugged. "Catching flowers has nothing to do with it. Things are happening for you. Your life is about to take a drastic turn." And with a frown: "You should use caution."
Julie ptissed up real quick. "Yes, thank you. I'm sure you mean well, Jamie, but you sound just like my uncle, wanting me to be circumspect in all I do." She smoothed her hair back with haughty disdain. "But now is the time for me to embrace life, not retreat from it."
"Sometimes retreat is a good thing."
Julie wasn't convinced. "I, ah, I'll just go help Shay put the presents in the car." She nodded to Jamie. "It was lovely seeing you again."
He returned her nod with a very empty look that somehow managed to convey smirking tolerance.
Julie dismissed him. "Bruce, Cyn, congratulations."
Cyn hugged her. Thank you. For everything."
Jamie pulled.Bruce to the side. "It's not over."
Bruce wasn't surprised. "I know. He'll come, but we'll be prepared."
"For the threat, yes," Jamie said, "but I think it's your wife you need to be prepared for."
"She is unpredictable."
Jamie frowned a moment, considered the situation, then shook his head in helpless confusion. "She loves you very much. It was always clear to me that you'd take care of her."
"But?"
"I don't know. Sooner or later I'll figure it out"
Bruce took his hand. Thank you. We appreciate your concern and your effort If for any reason you want to talk, about Cyn and what's happening with her, or about yourself, your life here, I'm always available."
Suddenly wary, Jamie released Bruce's hand and backed up a few steps. "I need to go." He bumped into Cyn, and an expression of resignation crossed his features.
"Jamie." Cyn faced him with huge eyes, hesitated, then she launched herself against him and squeezed him tight.
Jamie turned stiff with alarm. He had no idea how to react to Cyn's affection, or how to free himself from her hold, and Bruce couldn't help but smile. The man wasn't used to human contact.
It was just like Cyn to realize that, and to remedy the situation.
Jamie tolerated the embrace for all of five sec-onds before he caught Cyn's arms, peeled her loose, and set her beside her husband.
It was impossible to tell if his beard-covered cheeks were ruddy with embarrassment, or if he'd just had too much sun. But for once, his fathomless eyes weren't blank.
Jamie harrumphed and gathered his thoughts while appearing ready to flee, "Listen to me."
Cyn smiled. "We're listening."
"The threat still exists. Until I tell you otherwise, it's there. Don't be fooled."
Bruce put his arm around Cyn. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt her."
"I understand that And it's good that you're married. But.. ."Jamie seemed almost pained in his inability to verbalize his worries. "Something's not right."
"Okay," Bruce told him gently. "We'll be very careful, and if you have any news for us, please let us know."
Jamie agreed, glanced at Cyn with wary regard, and bid his farewells. For once, he didn't vanish. He just turned and wandered off, his hands in his pockets, his head down in deep thought.
No one said a word to him, but Bruce noticed that the ladies were tracking him with compassionate gazes. Not only that, but both Bryan and Joe watched him with concern, too.
They cared about Jamie, despite their claims to the contrary. And for the first time, Bruce wondered if, in fact, it wasn't Jamie who suffered the most risk—far always trying to help them all.
* * *
Cyn stood behind Bruce, watching him stack the gifts they'd received around the bedroom. When he-finished that, he removed his suit coat and hung it in the closet, dropped his cufflinks on the dresser, sat to remove his shoes.
And not once did he look at her.
When he stood again to unbutton his snowy white shirt—keeping his back to her—Cyn thought to herself, Not this time.
Her heart beat too fast and her stomach was fluttering with excitement "I need help with my dress."
Bruce went still for heartbeat before shrugging out of his shirt. "Just a moment."
Cyn moved up behind him, slid her arms around his waist, and pressed her cheek to his bare shoulder. His skin was hot and sleek all over. "Let's go to bed."
Every muscle in his body tensed. I need a shower. It was warm outside and—"
"Help me undress first, and I'll shower with you."
She felt his chest and back expand on a deeply drawn breath. Too much cheerfulness colored his tone as he faced her. "All right. The gown is beautiful, and perfect for you, but I can see it'll be tricky to undo."
Cyn turned. "Not all that tricky at all. It just looks like a row of tiny buttons, but there's a long zipper underneath."
Bruce hesitated. "I see." His hands didn't touch her.
"The zipper, Bruce? It won't open itself."
But it wasn't the zipper he touched. Cyn felt his mouth, warm and damp, pressing to her nape. His tongue came out, tasting her skin, and she quickened. Heated breath brushed the damp spot he'd left behind, and she shivered, leaning into him.
"I have to tell you something, honey."
Alarmed, Cyn started to pull away, but Bruce caught her rib cage, just below her breasts, and kept her pinned against him. He nuzzled her ear, lightly bit her throat, and said, "I'm not going to last. I already know
it."
Smiling in satisfaction, Cyn reached back and put her hands on his hard thighs. "That's all right We have all night."
He shook his head. "You really don't understand, but you will. Eventually." His tongue dipped into her ear, teased, and Cyn wanted to melt on the spot "You know what I kept thinking about all day?"
Her heart pounded. "Tell me."
"Slipping my hands into this bodice and freeing your breasts. At times, I swear I could almost feel your nipples on my palms. It made me nuts, especially with everyone watching me." His tongue left a damp path from her ear to the top of her shoulder. 1 think I'll do that now."
Lost in the soft murmur of words, in the feel of his mouth teasing her flesh, she was starded when Bruce's hands slid up and over her breasts, to the top of the bodice where his fingertips teased a few moments.
"Bruce..."
He worked his fingers beneath the stiff material. "Shhh. I don't want to rip your dress. Relax back against me."
Her plans for seducing her husband flew the coop; she relaxed back as instructed.
Hot, rough fingertips touched her nipples, already stiff and aching, and she could feel his smile on her throat. "I love your breasts, Cyn." With his left hand, he pinched her nipple just enough to make her groan. "You like that."
She swallowed, then said,"Duh." But her heart wasn't in the sarcastic response, and Bruce knew it
Laughing, he eased her forward and worked the back zipper halfway down. It loosened die bodice enough that her breasts were completely free, yet held up by the bunched material beneath them.
Keeping her turned away from him, he whispered, "Perfect," and went back to flicking, plucking, and rolling her nipples until Cyn diought she might scream.
"That's enough."
"No." He held her locked into place against him with one arm snug around her waist. His fingers caught her nipple and tugged.
Cyn's back arched. The pleasure was exquisite and acute and she wanted him, now. It was so easy for him to make her hot, when she hadn't even realized such a thing was possible. Sex to her had been a means to an end, a function to perform. But with Bruce, it was nothing like that. It was... more personal. Pure, raw pleasure. And addictive, because every time he touched her, she wanted more.
But she needed to touch him, too. She viewed his body differently from all the men who'd come before him. Bruce wasn't a chore; he was a craving.
Just as her hand began climbing his thigh toward the rock-hard cock that pressed into her bottom, he snagged her dress and hoisted the hem high. Cyn started to object, but his teeth closed carefully over her shoulder and the mingling of pleasure with the twinge of apprehension heightened her need. "Bruce?"
Wet, open-mouthed kisses left her skin sizzling as Bruce whispered, "Hold your dress up for me, Cyn."
She didn't even think of arguing. She bunched the material in her fists and lifted it as high as she could.
"Now, brace your feet apart." And in a growl: "I want to touch you."
The words alone almost put her over the top. She was inching her legs open when his hard thigh insinuated its way between her knees and nudged her legs far apart.
Using his left hand, he kept her nipple captive with a steady pressure between his finger and thumb. With the other, he dipped into her panties and found her wide-open sex.
Cyn's head fell back; she braced her shoulders on his chest. "How do you always do this to me?"
His fingertips parted her, but he didn't press in. "I'm the one man meant for you, sweetheart. Remember that. What we have is special because we're special together."
"Together?" She found the breath to huff. "You're always the one doing—"
His finger pressed in, fast and deep and Cyn cried out as her hips shot forward, her thoughts and grievances obliterated.
Bruce seemed in no hurry. For long minutes, he indulged foreplay, making love to her with his hand, using his mouth, his fingers, his entire body to push her to the brink. It was their wedding day, a day she'd expected to luxuriate in the bed with him.
And instead he brought her to a screaming climax while standing and half dressed.
Cyn slumped into him, limp and sweaty, her mind a blank slate, her bones useless. Bruce held her, continuing to kiss her throat and ear and jaw-line until she'd finally regained her breath.
When cognizance returned and she went rigid, Bruce asked, "You okay?"
She wrenched herself free and turned toward him, her mouth open to blast him, and just that quickly, Bruce toppled her to the bed. Stunned immobile, she watched as Bruce came down over her.
Her breasts were offered up by the taut restriction of the gown and Bruce eyed her rosy, stiffened nipples for only a heartbeat before closing his mouth over one and suckling.
"You're ruining my dress," Cyn tried to grouch, but the words sounded more like a wail. She was still so sensitive, still in the aftermath of a fabulous orgasm.
It didn't matter anyway, because Bruce paid no attention to her complaint. Maybe because her fingers were laced in his hair, holding him close to her breast. Maybe because her legs had opened so that he could settle between. Maybe because her hips were lifting in rhythmic invitation.
She was so alive with sensations from her release, that in only moments she was ready, even anxious, again.
"I can't believe you're mine," Bruce whispered.
But was he hers? Not yet. Before the day ended, Cyn vowed things would be different. She'd take him, and then some. "I want you, Bruce."
"You have me. Forever." He took her mouth hungrily to seal that promise, while stroking his fingers over her cheek, her throat, and her breasts again.
Suddenly he sat up and Cyn, hungry for him, opened her eyes to see him unfastening his trousers.
Finally. She tried to help, but he said, "Let's get you out of this dress." He flipped her onto her stomach arid went to work on her zipper, pulling it all the way down to the bottom of her spine.
Now that they were married, Cyn had wanted this time to involve both of them. She wanted to touch him, too, to taste him everywhere and explore his body. But Bruce seemed bound and determined to hold her off.
Utilizing great care for the delicate material, he stripped the gown off her, leaving her in panties and garter-top nylons. He turned her to her back again and simply stared at her, from head to toes, his gaze growing more heated by the moment.
Then he touched her, letting his hands explore everywhere at once—soft, teasing touches, then firm caresses and gentle coaxing. Through it all, he fended her off, refusing to let her touch him at all.
Finally, he couldn't take it anymore, either, and stood to push his pants and boxers off.
It was late afternoon. Turning off the lights would do him no good. The drapes in his bedroom weren't thick enough to block out the daylight. Lying on her back on the bed, Cyn got her first good look at her husband, and he was magnificent.
The dark blond hair on his head contrasted sharply with his dark lashes and brows, and the darker body hair on his chest and thighs. His stomach was flat, his muscles clearly defined.
And he was her husband. A man with a heart of pure gold and a body to make women swoon.
Cyn considered removing her stockings and underwear, but then Bruce returned with a condom in hand.
"Sorry. This is going to be fast and furious," he said as he rolled on the protection. "I'd have preferred otherwise, but it's just not possible."
"It doesn't matter."
He shook his head and laughed, stripped her panties down and off, and came between her legs. "Put your arms around me, sweetheart. Hold me."
She was already doing it. Her legs, too. She wanted to hold him tight so he couldn't ever pull away from her again.
Bruce took her mouth, his tongue stroking hers, and Cyn felt the hard, hot length of his erection pushing inside her. She was wet enough that he eased right in, deeper and deeper, and she clamped down with a shuddering moan, thrilled to have him finally, to possess every part
of him.
When he was fully seated, they groaned in unison. Bruce went still for a moment, eyes closed, face relaxed as he luxuriated in the sensation of being completely joined. Then his muscles twitched, his breath caught, and with a growl, he began thrusting—hard, heavy strokes, fast and deep, and Cyn loved it.
In no time at all, Bruce threw back his head and clenched his jaw tight. His chest heaved, the muscles in his shoulders and arms bunched, and Cyn knew he was coming.
Through a haze of pleasure and love, she watched him, amazed that seeing a man so out of control, so lost in release, was such a turn-on.
By small degrees his body lowered to hers. He kept his face turned into her throat while gulping air, and he was still inside her.
Cyn opened her hands wide and ran them up and down his broad back. His skin was damp now with sweat, hot from exertion.
She loved him so much. "You can sleep if you want."
His lashes tickled her neck as he slowly opened his eyes. "Not likely." He stirred enough to roll to his back, but he brought Cyn with him, curling her into his side with her head on his shoulder. "It's going to take me a little time to get used to having you."
"Yeah?"
Eyes closed, he nodded. "I've thought about making love to you from the moment I first saw you. And no, it wasn't just your looks, though I can't deny I love seeing you in those pale nylons."
"Kinky."
"I'm getting there." He sighed out a long breath. "Of course, it'd be the same if you weren't wearing nylons. You, Mrs. Kelly, are just so unique, so full of spirit, that I can't be around you without indulging a few lecherous thoughts."
Mrs. Kelly. Wow, she liked the sound of that. She laughed and tangled her fingers in his chest hair. "Now we need a shower. We're both sweaty."
He patted her hip and started to rise. "Right, I'll go first."
Cyn snagged him back with her hold on his chest hair. "I don't think so."
He glanced down at her.
"We'll shower together."
Very slowly, Bruce's eyes darkened as he looked down at her. He held her wrist so she couldn't pull on his chest hair. "My shower is awfully small, Cyn. I don't think we'll both fit."
Cyn pushed him flat and crawled atop him. "We will. And this time, you'll give me my turn."