Finally His Bride (Montana Born Brides Series Book 4)

by Maisey Yates

  She needed to talk to her best friend. But she couldn’t talk to her best friend. Because he was the one who had done this to her.

  And all she could really do was be mad at herself because she’d wanted him too.

  Luke had been holed up in the bedroom since Hymenpocalypse. Probably for the best, because she either would have cried on him or tried to seduce him again and really, she shouldn’t do either.

  She had to let things go back to normal. He was right. The guy from the bar wouldn’t have called her after. It would have been a one night stand. So she had to be content with letting this be a one afternoon stand.

  It was good, at least. Luke had been everything. Everything and more.

  Of course, that was what made the idea of it being only one time sting so badly. It had been…so good. It would haunt her dreams. And she didn’t have time to have her damn dreams haunted because she had wedding cakes to bake.

  She walked over to the mixer and resolutely shut it off, dipping a spoon into the rich, creamy mixture and taking a big bite.

  “I see you’ve been busy while I’ve been in there staring at a spot on the ceiling.”

  She turned, frosting spoon still shoved deep in her mouth, and came face to face with Luke. “Hi,” she said, speaking around the silverware.

  “Hi.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, and the muscles on his forearms gave her an illicit little show.

  He’s turned you into a perv.

  She slipped the spoon between her lips, licking it clean. “Did you find the answers to life’s questions up there somewhere?”

  “No. Just justification for what I’m about to say.”

  She blinked. “Okay.”

  “I think we should keep having sex.”

  *

  He hadn’t meant to say that. Not like that. Not so abruptly. He’d meant to kind of intro it with solid reasoning. Because there was solid reasoning. At least, he’d thought there was. Now it was a little hazy, completely obscured by thoughts of getting her naked again.

  But this much he knew. He would be in Marietta until things with Beckett and Kaitlin were sorted, until he was sure everything would be okay, and his parents were going to send Kaitlin to a convent. And he couldn’t just ignore Melanie while he was here. Not after that. Maybe, though it was a big maybe, if you were going back to Bozeman immediately he could be one and done. They could get the distance they needed without either of them having to ignore the other really.

  But he would be here. That changed things. At least, in his orgasm-addled brain it changed things.

  “Like… Right now?” She bit her lip and looked toward her oven. “Because I have a cake baking.”

  “No, not right now.” Though, his body wouldn’t say no.

  “So just… Future sex. There will be… Sex… Between us… In the future.”

  “If you want to. You seemed not that happy about it being once.”

  “I’m torn, Luke.” She slammed her hands on the counter. “Because I don’t really like feeling as though the sex is something you’re benevolently bestowing upon me for my betterment.”

  “If you think that, you were not paying attention.”

  “Or, I’m a little inexperienced.”

  Luke pushed his hands back through his hair. “I know. Mel…”

  “No, I need to tell you this. I want you. I have wanted you. I’ve wanted you for a decent amount of time. Or, indecent amount of time depending on how you look at it. But it never seemed like something worth risking our friendship for. It still isn’t. So, if it’s going to be a problem we should stop.”

  He let the impact of her words settle over him. “You want me?”

  She blinked. “If you have a question about that you weren’t paying attention.”

  “I meant before this.”

  “You dumbass,” she exploded. “Did you really not know?”

  “No.” He could tell by the subtle shift in her expression that went from dark to stormy, that that had been the wrong answer.

  “So you didn’t… At the wedding…”

  “The wedding?”

  “This is perfect. This is just perfect,” she said, rubbing her forehead with her palm. “You didn’t ignore my advances, you just didn’t notice them.”

  He knew exactly what moment she was talking about. That moment outside the reception venue. She’d looked at him, and he’d felt a band of tension stretch tight between them. He’d been tempted then. To lean in, taste her lips. He chalked it up to insanity. The insanity of his younger sister getting married, of moonlight, and too much beer and whatever else he could blame.

  “If you were hitting on me, you did a pretty bad job of it,” he said.

  Her eyebrows only dipped further, her expression getting angrier. “If you’re trying to get yourself out of trouble, you’re doing a damn bad job.”

  “I didn’t realize… I realized something. Just not…I just…I wanted to kiss you.”

  “You…” She blinked. “You wanted to kiss me?”

  “Yes. I wanted to kiss you. More than that, I didn’t stop thinking about kissing you between that moment and earlier today when I actually did. Actually, that’s a lie, because I’m still thinking about it. It’s just that now I’ve done it too.”

  “Then why did you sleep with that other woman?” Her words hit him like a slap to the face. “Don’t think I didn’t notice her leaving your place.”

  “I didn’t.” He sighed heavily, knowing that even the explanation of everything that happened wouldn’t make him look like a knight in shining armor. But that was the thing. There were only a couple areas of his life where he rescued people. Where he kept perfect control, and served others, and did things for the greater good. Then there was his life. His personal life. Which was frankly, a much bigger mess than that.

  “You didn’t sleep with her?” She crossed her arms, arching her brow. “Then why was she leaving your place?”

  “Because. I took her home, we were both drunk. I didn’t… I couldn’t… Things weren’t. Anyway, I didn’t do it.”

  Her brows shot upward. “You…couldn’t?”

  “Yes. Couldn’t. Perform…” His throat felt dry and scratchy, “Sexually or whatever.”

  “Are you…saying you tried to give the lady softserve, Shuller?” Her gaze dropped to the front of his jeans.

  He gritted his teeth. “It didn’t get that far. But let’s just say it’s a testament to how much I didn’t want her.”

  “Oh my gosh.” Her eyes rounded. “You couldn’t get it up?”

  He growled. “Because I wanted you, you silly little virgin.”

  “I’m not a virgin.” She was looking at him with large, owlish eyes.

  “Because of me.” He cleared his throat. “And, everything was working just fine. You will notice.”

  “Did I… Luke, did I ruin you for other women?”

  His eye twitched. “With one look. One well-placed look at my sister’s terrible wedding reception.”

  She blinked rapidly. “Oh. That changes things.”

  “What does it change?”

  “Well, it means that cake had better hurry up and bake or I’m taking it out and letting the middle fall in on itself.”

  His stomach tightened. “Really?”

  “Yes, because I need to get you back in bed. Now.”

  Chapter Six

  ‡

  Melanie had always heard that the first time wasn’t very good. That, in her experience was a lie. But, her second time was even better. It was dark outside now, moonlight glittering on the lake. She’d left the cakes out to cool, the frosting stuck in the fridge to wait until she got around to actually decorating anything. She loved the function of fondant, but she preferred frosting. Regular old, butter-and-sugar-filled frosting.

  She wasn’t sure how she’d gone from sex to frosting in her mind. Actually, it made sense. The two were closely linked. Indulgent, fantastic, potentially bad for you.

  She shifted
, looking over at Luke who was lying on his back, his forearm thrown over his eyes, his breathing ragged. She took a moment just to study him. To look at him like she’d never looked at her friend before. At the little lines around his eyes, the deep grooves that bracketed his mouth. His well-defined muscles, the hair on his chest, trailing down toward that very masculine part of him that was no longer a secret from her.

  In that moment, she thought her chest might crack open. Which wasn’t what she was looking for. She was looking for a different sensation. One of chains dropping loose, freeing her from all the baggage she’d carried with her for years upon years. She didn’t feel free. She just felt chained to the bed. Chained to him.

  She watched his chest rise and fall, his breath even, steady. He was asleep. She bit back laughter. So, men really did fall asleep after. Good to know.

  She found she wasn’t tired at all. She felt like swimming laps, running a marathon. Eating half of the cake.

  Well, the cake thing was a lot more realistic than any of those other options.

  She slipped away from Luke, dressing for the third time that day, and padding out into the kitchen. She opened up the fridge, retrieved the frosting and checked the temperature on the cakes.

  She couldn’t afford to be distracted too much. She had this wedding to contend with after all. A huge wedding meant a lot of cake. A large bridal party and rehearsal dinner meant even more. Which meant she needed to be cake focused. Not cock focused.

  Her lips twitched, humor and her own joke making her smile. It was possible she was going a little bit crazy. But then, if anyone was worth going a little crazy for, it was Luke. That made her frown. Luke specifically was not supposed to be important. Her chest clenched tight. She was just having some kind of emotional reaction to the physical stuff that had gone on between them. It was chemical. Hormonal. Unavoidable. She would have felt that way about Joel, the cowboy. If that was his name.

  Forget that. She would not have felt this way about Joel.

  She eyed the frosting in the bowl, seriously considering just eating this batch.

  No, she wasn’t going to do that. She grabbed her icing spatula and plunged it deep into the salted caramel buttercream, scooping out a generous amount and slathering it over what would be the bottom layer of this chocolate cake. It was only a tester size. If she liked the way it held up, the way it tasted and the way it looked, then it would move forward to actual wedding cake size.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  She looked up and saw Luke standing in the doorway, his voice rough from sleep, his body essentially bare except for a pair of tight, black briefs.

  She was never going to get tired of looking at his body. His broad chest, slim waist, narrow hips. And his thighs. Mercy. She imagined they got a good workout from him squatting down to work on cars all the time. It showed. She’d never realized that men’s thighs could be a thing. They were absolutely a thing. At least, his thighs were.

  She held up her spatula. “Frosting cake.”

  “I see that.” He walked closer to her, and her heart shimmied up into her throat. “But that means you weren’t there when I woke up.”

  “You’re getting used to this change awfully quickly.”

  “Don’t you like it?”

  She turned back toward the cake, her cheeks flushing. “Yes.”

  He wrapped his arm around her waist, pressing his palm flat against her stomach, kissing the curve of her neck. “Why did that sound so much like a complaint?”

  “It wasn’t.” She shivered as his hand drifted down beneath the waistband of her pants, his fingertips sliding across her clitoris. “Oh…”

  “If you would’ve stayed in bed, do you see what might’ve happened?”

  “Can’t it happen now?” she asked, her voice morphing into a needy whimper.

  “I don’t know. I feel like it violates a lot of health codes.”

  “These are just sample cakes. No one’s going to eat them.”

  “Still. Rules are rules. You don’t get naked in kitchens…”

  She craned her neck back to look at him. “You don’t get naked with your friends anywhere.”

  “I guess you make a good point there. We’re already breaking the rules.”

  “Broken. Smashed. Might as well keep going.”

  “I don’t know if I trust you,” he said, his breath hot on the tender skin of her neck. “I think your judgment might be impaired.”

  She arched her back, pushing her butt, grinding against his arousal. “No more than yours, I imagine.”

  His breath hissed through his teeth. “Maybe.”

  He reached past her, to the bowl of frosting, taking her spatula out, then bringing it back toward them, brushing her hair to the side, sliding the soft, silicon edge along her skin, leaving a thick layer of icing behind.

  “What are you –”

  His tongue followed the path he just forged with the spatula, licking her skin clean. “Delicious,” he said.

  This was the dirtiest thing she’d ever done. Dirtier than any fantasy she’d ever had. And she was doing it with Luke. In her kitchen.

  That nice Shuller boy, as her grandma had always called him, had a filthy imagination. And Melanie liked it a lot.

  “I need that for the cake,” she said.

  “You said no one was going to eat it.” He dipped the spatula back in the bowl, gathering another dollop of frosting. “I would rather eat you anyway.” He gripped her hips with one hand, turning her so that her back was pressed against the counter, then with one fluid motion he wrenched her T-shirt over her head, exposing her breasts to him. “Perfect.” He dragged the spatula in a straight line across her bare skin, from her collarbone on down, then across more sensitized skin. He put the spatula back down on the counter, holding her hips tight, so tight it was almost painful, but she liked it.

  He lowered his head, tracing her collarbone with the tip of his tongue. “You still worried about the cake?”

  “What cake?”

  He chuckled, continuing his exploration of her body, continuing to lap the frosting from her skin. He paused at her breast, sucking her nipple in deep, looking up, his eyes meeting hers. Her stomach tightened painfully, desire building low and deep. He repeated the motion on the other side until her skin was clean. She didn’t know what she expected him to do next, but it wasn’t what he did. He dropped to his knees, undoing the snap on her jeans. He lowered her zipper, and as the fabric parted he swept his tongue over her tender, bared skin.

  “There’s no frosting there,” she said, her voice shaking.

  “I don’t need it. You’re sweet enough.” He grabbed hold of the waistband of her jeans, pulling them and her underwear down her thighs, down to the floor.

  “Luke…” It had been one thing to do this for him, but it was quite another to have him do that for her.

  She wasn’t really sure why. Maybe because she’d been confident in her attraction to him. Tasting him, taking him into her mouth had been fantasy fulfillment for her. But for him?

  He said he wanted you. He said he wanted you then and not anyone else. Just trust him.

  He kissed the top of her thigh and she shivered. She didn’t have the brain power to worry about what he wanted or didn’t want. She couldn’t think about anything but the way his hands felt, holding her so tight. The way his mouth felt, so hot against her skin.

  “Mel…” His voice, the reverence in his tone. The desire so evident in his voice, in his actions, it healed jagged pieces inside her she hadn’t even known were there.

  He pressed her back against the counter, lowering his head and tasting her deeply. The sudden, decisive action shocked her, stole her breath. This wasn’t tentative, no careful, slow sampling. He was devouring her.

  She laced her fingers through his hair, holding him tight against her as he continued to tease her with his tongue. He pressed deeper, letting go of her hips, bringing his hand down between her thighs, pushing one finger inside
her.

  She gasped, moving her hands to his shoulders, her hands digging into his skin, her eyes closed tight. She didn’t want to close her eyes. Didn’t want to miss this. Didn’t want to miss him.

  She forced herself to look, to take in the sight of his dark head between her legs, her hands braced on those familiar, broad shoulders.

  Intimacy.

  The word burned itself across her brain. Hot and deep and impossible to will away. This wasn’t just sex. This was intimate.

  He had licked her. Everywhere. He was tasting her now like she was the most exquisite dessert he’d ever had.

  A man who had seen her cry, had seen her, bruised and broken, beaten by her own father. A man who’d watched her grow from a skinny, teenage girl into a woman.

  The man she’d known since he was a lanky boy, with a home haircut that stuck out at odd angles and pants that were too short because he’d grown too fast and his parents’d had a tight clothing budget.

  The boy she’d held onto while he’d told her about how he was barely graduating. How he was going to leave Marietta and start his own business. How his parents would hate him for it, but he wasn’t smart enough to do anything else.

  She’d held onto him, and he hadn’t cried, but she’d known he wanted to. So she’d just held him while he’d sat there in misery. And he was holding her now. Holding her while he took her to ecstasy.

  That boy and this man were the same person, and she couldn’t ignore it. Didn’t want to ignore it, even if it made her feel like her chest had been cracked open, left vulnerable to anything and everything that might hurt her, might destroy her.

  Even if exposing her heart might mean it got stolen, twisted, tortured by the person who held it.

  He pushed her higher, the tension in her stomach like a bowstring about to break. The tension wound itself around the emotions building in her chest, binding them tight, so tight she couldn’t release them, couldn’t let them go. Couldn’t separate the physical from the emotional.

  It was a struggle just to breathe.

  A second finger joined the first, his tongue sliding over her clit at just the right moment. And she fell. Endlessly, forever, in Luke’s arms.