by Dani Collins
She couldn’t remember ever being so turned on. His mouth was a meal, his hand at her lower back primitive in the way he held her in place. She felt deliciously trapped and squirmed with excitement, unable to escape the rolling waves of pleasure moving with increasing strength through her. She fought against releasing the noises of pleasure that filled her throat, trying not to get too carried away. Anyone could walk in on them, but it felt so good. Intense and pushing her really close to—
With a gasp, she crested a sudden peak, shivering in reaction under ripples of completion. She clutched at him in shock, panting with reaction while he dragged his head up, hips tight against her loins, the rock-hard feel of his cock aggressive and undeniable.
“Was that an orgasm?” he whispered in astonishment.
“A little one. I’m sorry.” She tucked her forehead onto his collarbone, mortified.
“Don’t apologize.” He breathed a soft chuckle, making her hair tickle her ear. He sounded stunned. “I’m about to come in my jeans. Let’s go to my room.”
“We can’t.” She tried to find her feet.
He held her on the edge of the desk for two solid heartbeats, his whole body hardening to a prison of warm steel. The firm line of his erection stayed intimately against flesh that was still throbbing and yearning for deeper contact. Penetration.
“You know we can’t.” She lifted her head, terrified he could talk her into having sex right here, right now. Real sex. Other women fell for him all the time. Her sister had.
That chilling thought was enough to make her press her hand with more insistence against his shoulder.
He slowly straightened and released her, leaving her leaning weakly against the edge of the desk. He paced away a couple of steps. Swore. One hand went to his hip, the other to the back of his neck. He swore again.
What must he think of her, going off like a rocket? She didn’t think much of herself. It was hugely embarrassing. She covered her hot cheeks and tried to read his body language in his silhouette.
“You’re right,” he muttered. “I know you’re right. We should have ignored it.” He ran his hand down his face.
It didn’t matter that what he said was true. His quick regret felt like a rebuff.
She gripped her elbows. “I’ll go this way. You go that. G’ night.” She slipped into her suite and locked both doors, dying of embarrassment and rejection.
It was several minutes before she heard him leave through the office door.
*
Trigg tried, but he couldn’t think of anything else but Wren. Not just the carnal possibilities, either, even though his libido was clawing unrelentingly, frantic to see where things would go if they had an hour of privacy.
He hadn’t even meant to let that kiss happen. One minute he’d been hugging her, barely thinking as his heart was ripped wide by a kid he wished he had never dismissed. The only person who came close to understanding how big that was for him was Wren.
But the air had shifted and going in for a kiss had felt natural. He’d had one millisecond of sense, then she had banished it to the far corners of the universe, pressing her mouth to his.
That gorgeous, round mouth of hers had became his world. Her smell, the slightness of her, the faint hum of need she’d made in her throat. His own desire had rattled in his chest, barely restrained.
Moving with her had been exactly that. She’d been with him. He didn’t even remember picking her up and setting her on the desk. Maybe he should have stopped it when he realized the heat in the crook of her thighs was against his raging cock, but the glaze of passion in her expression had undone him. His mother could have brought the entire guest list on a walk-through and he would have stayed right there, between Wren’s thighs.
Then she’d released a broken cry and he’d felt as though he held shimmering magic. A little one, she had called it, the adorable minx. What would a big one be like? What would it feel like to be inside her when she shattered unexpectedly like that?
The idea kept him up, solid and hard and aching.
Sex had always been straightforward for him. Yes or no. If it was no, he didn’t obsess or push for a different answer. He moved on and tried not to be a dick about it.
As for relationships, he kept those simple as well. Sweet and brief. Between his father’s infidelity against Rolf’s mother with his own, and Rolf’s unpleasant divorce, Trigg hadn’t seen a lot of examples of successful monogamy. Mandy’s call had made him realize what a close shave he’d had with something very serious. All that combined to hold him back from getting deeply involved with any woman. He had fallen into a pattern of casual connections while being hyper-careful to avoid pregnancy. His training and travel schedule hadn’t been conducive to relationships either, which had made for a convenient excuse not to try long-term.
He wasn’t ready for long-term now, despite the number of family members who were making inquiries, pointing out that he had a daughter. His brother was settling down. Was he thinking about doing the same?
Hell, no. Trigg had dozens of goals and ambitions he intended to accomplish before he even thought about a wife and more kids. His timeline had been rearranged thanks to Sky and the resort, but he had been completely honest with Wren when he’d said he would like to go back to competing in a couple of years. This was a hiatus, not a permanent withdrawal from what he loved. Once he had a solid idea where he and Sky stood, he would make a fresh five-year plan and it wouldn’t include picket fences that hemmed him in.
In fact, Sky was a gift. He didn’t have to look back in twenty years and wonder if he should have had kids sooner. He had one. She was everything he could want. Having a second kid wouldn’t give him the time with Sky that he’d missed.
He thought about the way Wren had apologized for keeping them apart. Her remorse had sliced him deep, forcing him to reckon with his own failings. He probably should have processed that without kissing an orgasm out of her.
We can’t. You know we can’t.
He knew they shouldn’t, but he had always had problems accepting can’t.
“Where’s Murphy?” Sky’s voice dragged him from his introspection.
“Hmm?” He pulled his blank stare off the pond and realized he had lost his dog. He whistled and the goofball came crashing back from sniffing through the underbrush.
“Me and Bruno are going to walk him around the pond. Is that okay?” Sky thumbed to where her cousin was sitting on the stoop of the back entrance, tying his shoes. “Bruno said he’ll hold the leash. I can’t. My arms are so sore.” She let them hang limply at her sides.
Trig wasn’t surprised. Rather than taking yesterday to recover, she had spent it in a kayak on the pond, trying to splash Bruno while he flicked water back at her and Murphy paddled between them.
“Check in with Mom as soon as you’re back. We have wedding rehearsal this morning.” And a million other things before the wedding tomorrow. He had to write his best man speech and conduct a tour of the base this afternoon. Board members were arriving. Yay.
He didn’t have time to ruminate about Wren, let alone ask her what she was thinking or feeling. Hell, he was barely catching sight of her. She was as busy as he was, zipping in and out of his periphery before he had a chance to say, ‘Good morning.’
“Sky.” Trigg stopped her from walking away. “Has your aunt ever had a boyfriend?”
She quirked up a brow. “Two. Why?”
Ouch. Why did hearing that Wren had been serious about other men sting like a jellyfish tentacle across the chest? He pushed his balled fists deeper into his pockets.
“She said once that she doesn’t go out much. She never seems to stop working.”
“Yeah, she’s queen of multitasking. Even if she reads a book, she does it while she’s on the elliptical.”
She looked at Murphy, then dropped his leash, saying, “Go see Bruno.” She patted him on his haunch, then straightened and folded her arms. Winced, but shrugged.
“It’s kind of m
y fault. The first guy was from Nana’s church. She wanted Auntie Wren to get married because she didn’t think Auntie Wren could take care of me by herself. He didn’t want her to do the dentist course. He was mad she was working nights to pay for it instead of coming to Bible study with him. He said she should trust him to take care of us. I guess she didn’t, ’cause they broke up and we moved out of Nana’s.”
“Who was the other guy?”
“Kevin.” She spat the name. “He told her to find my dad because he didn’t want to support me. Maybe I wasn’t as nice as I could have been.” She looked to the cloudless sky. “I was mad about changing schools.”
“He still sounds like a world-class dick.”
“He was. I think she likes Quinn, though. I’m sure he likes her.” Sky tilted her head in speculation. “He seems cool. I wouldn’t mind.”
I would. The certainty was a fist clenched in his gut.
Bruno came toward them, making Sky turn. “I will not run,” she told him in passable German.
He called her a wimp.
“Genug!” Sky was so spot-on as Rolf when he was losing patience, they all cracked up. The kids started down the path that ringed the pond.
Trigg wondered what Wren would do now that he was supporting Sky and taking a hand in raising her. For probably the first time in her life, she had options. She could take a job anywhere she wanted. Date, if she wanted to.
Huh. Where, exactly, would he bury Quinn’s body?
*
During the wedding rehearsal, it was determined that the raft needed a platform to raise the happy couple to a more visible height. The raft would also have to stay near the shore so the wedding guests would feel they were part of the exchange of vows.
Cameras would be mounted on the decorated posts on the raft, projecting the entire ceremony onto a big screen as it recorded. Employees planned to line the lodge balconies, taking a break from setting tables and preparing food to witness Rolf and Glory commit their lives to one another.
Wren was given that update by Sky between finding the sacks of potatoes and speaking to the workers erecting the tent.
Thankfully, many of the guests disappeared during the day Monday and Tuesday, either running into town for the ball tournament, jet-skiing on the lake, or shopping for last-minute items. However, more guests checked in and reporters kept ignoring her voicemail that said the lodge was closed for a private function. They called her cell and were annoyingly persistent in their quest for gossip on the guests.
Her phone was exploding with texts and calls as it was. The on-site staff swelled as extra catering, housekeeping, and other temporary laborers arrived to pitch in. Marvin and Vivien were continuously drawn into visiting with friends and family so it was very much on Wren to keep things rolling.
No easy task when traffic gridlocked the front parking lot. Trailers full of equipment, entertainers, food, flowers and furniture arrived, but they couldn’t get past the line of stretch limos and shiny SUVs. Two of Devon’s tradesmen who had moved their own trailers to the base directed traffic for hours until the worst of it was cleared.
The tent went up, the last of the decorations were finished inside the lodge, and a constant flow of food and drink turned over in the dining room and lounge.
Sky and Bruno had become quite the inseparable pair, helping Eden set up a scavenger hunt for the younger children and playing video games with them in the evenings. Wren didn’t have time to run down to the makeup trailer Tuesday, despite both Vivien and Glory urging her to take an hour to relax, but Skylar came back with a fresh manicure and excitement about being told she could wear false eyelashes tomorrow along with rose buds in her hair.
A few spits of rain and a light wind overnight had everyone biting their newly polished nails, but the wedding day dawned with only a few fluffy white clouds and a minimal sweep of needles for cleanup.
After a bustling breakfast, Wren closed the dining room so it could be used as a staging area for everything from cocktails to cake. The cube van full of tables and chairs arrived and backed up to the tent. She made sure they knew they had to move as soon as they were unloaded so the truck with linens and the fourteen-piece table settings could get in right behind them.
“Wren, dear.” Vivien was still in the pantsuit she had worn to breakfast, but her hair and makeup were coiffed to elegant perfection.
“It’s all under control, Vivien, I swear.”
“I know it is. If you weren’t taking all of this in hand, I would be the one running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Promise me you’ll sit down at dinner and have a drink with me after.” She clasped both of her buttery-soft hands over Wren’s. “And use the appointment I’ve made for you in the spa tomorrow. I’ve booked all the staff for mani-pedis before the girls leave on Friday, as a thank you for the long hours and hard work. If you don’t take advantage of that, I’ll be angry.” She made a point of giving Wren’s unpolished nails an askance look.
“That’s very generous, Vivien. Of course. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Now.” Her grip tightened. “Do you have any idea where my son is?”
“Trigg?” How many other sons did she have? And why did the question make her blush guiltily? Wren was way too busy to track his whereabouts. Or should be, but it didn’t stop her from trying. “With the groom, I think.”
“Oh, yes. The bridal party is in the trailer so I’m sure they’re suiting up in Rolf and Glory’s suite. I’ll call him from my room. This is the last time I’m climbing those stairs before I go to bed after the ceremony, I swear. You should get dressed, too, dear.”
“I thought it might be easier if I stayed in uniform. Then people know I’m—”
“Wren.” Vivien caught her hand again. “Oskar’s sister has already asked me why I’m treating you like the scullery maid. She’s the one I told you about.” Vivien leaned in to confide. “Please come to the wedding as yourself, so I can introduce you properly.”
“But—” She liked lurking behind the scenes. Playing Sky’s wingman to get her on a boat was one thing, but Wren wasn’t family. Now the ice was broken, Sky was fitting in to the Johansson clan as if she’d known them all her life. It was wonderful and heartbreaking at the same time. It also meant Sky wasn’t her wingman.
“Here she comes,” Vivien muttered, still holding Wren’s hand, but dropping it between them as she turned Wren to face the stylish, silver-haired woman of seventy. “Gerta. Guten tag.”
“You’re not wearing that,” the other woman said with a sniff.
“Of course not. I was just reminding Wren to change. She’ll be joining us for dinner. I don’t think you’ve properly met.”
“The aunt,” Gerta said as they shook hands. “You’ll sit with me at the reception.”
It was the most frightening thing anyone had ever threatened. Wren’s heart shrank into a ball and her lungs seized.
Vivien’s smile stayed in place, but her nostrils twitched. “I have you beside Sir Charles and his fiancée.”
“Him?” Gerta’s mouth twitched with dismay even though the man was one of the most exalted guests, known mostly for his acting career, but also as a tremendously well-regarded humanitarian related to the royal family.
“I’ll have a look at the seating plan, see what I can work out,” Wren promised. “You finish getting ready, Vivien. May I bring you a mimosa, Gerta? Before I change?”
“I’d prefer a martini.”
At ten o’clock in the morning? “Of course.”
*
Trigg was told Wren had gone onto the patio, but when he came out of the lounge, he found only Quinn standing at the rail, chatting up a fine-looking woman Trigg didn’t—
Holy shit. Wren had changed out of her work uniform into in a blue and white dress that was demure and sweet, yet sexy as hell. The top was a sleeveless T-shirt style, but snug to her curves. It was covered in white and blue sequins that formed a zigzag pattern down to her short blue skirt, which was full an
d breezy with a playful ruffle where it ended mid-thigh. Her gorgeous legs were golden from their day on the water. Strappy white sandals with a fat cork heel finished the outfit.
Instead of her usual ponytail, she had twisted her hair into a loose bun that left wisps around her face. When she glanced at him as he touched her arm, her eyes were sparkling. They dimmed with wariness, then her lashes dropped shyly. A hint of pink stole across her cheekbones.
His dick twitched, remembering too.
He gave Quinn a look, silently demanding, What are you doing?
“We both missed breakfast. Wren snuck us some hors d’oeuvres to get us through the ceremony.”
She swallowed and said, “They’ll be set out as soon as the ceremony is over, so people can nibble while the photos are being taken. And,” she said to Quinn, “I watered down the mimosas so people aren’t smashed before the reception starts.”
“You really do think of everything. Seriously, if you ever want a job traveling eight or ten months of the year, living like a Bedouin, working on projects that have no budget and may not make any money, call me.”
“I don’t know if I could work for someone who oversells the way you do.”
Quinn chuckled and Trigg wanted to punch him in the face.
“I have to get back inside.” Wren picked up the plate they had shared and thumbed toward the inside of the lounge. “T minus…?”
“Twenty,” Quinn answered with a glance at his smartwatch. “Thanks,” Quinn said with a nod at the plate, glancing at Trigg. “Are you looking for me?”
“Wren.” Hit the road, he scowled at Quinn, clearing his expression as he looked at Wren.
“What’s wrong?” Her brow quirked in alarm.
He was overplaying his hand. “Nothing. I need to ask you a favor.”
“Okay,” she said cautiously.
“I have a surprise guest coming. Can you slip away before the dancing starts and run down to the highway? Use Glory’s SUV.” He handed her the keys.
“Oh. Sure.” She frowned, eyeing him with suspicion.