Confessions of a Bad Bridesmaid

by Jennifer Rae

  ‘Then you fill your life with something else,’ he said softly.

  He could feel her pain. Olivia sounded confused. He suspected she didn’t know what she wanted. She needed someone strong. Someone to take care of her. Edward’s shoulders stiffened. Definitely not him. He caused pain; he didn’t relieve it. That realisation poured a stream of cold water over him.

  ‘You should strive for something that will give you back exactly what you put into it.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Work. Exercise.’

  ‘You exercise?’

  ‘I run. Every day.’

  ‘Me too.’

  That magnetic smile lit her face again and it hit him in the chest. Then her face fell.

  ‘I hate it, though. It gives me too much time to think. And it hurts.’

  ‘So why do you do it?’

  She faced him and ran her hand seductively from her breasts to her thigh. It sent a shiver straight through him and he stood to attention again. Her garish purple dress peeked through his jacket and the flashes of the skin on her chest and her legs were making him sweat, even as the night chill wound around him.

  ‘This body don’t come cheap. I’ll let you in on a secret, Eddie. I’m not a natural beauty. Any appeal I have comes from hard work and a daily pounding of the pavement.’

  Edward thought that none of her appeal came from pounding the pavement. She had a killer body, that was true. But she also had a set of full, pouty lips, a beautiful smile and an innate consciousness of her own femininity. The woman was sexy. Damn sexy. And she knew it.

  ‘If that body is so hard to get why do you expose it in cheap stuff like that thing you call a dress? If that body were mine I’d have it covered from nose to ankle so no one could lay his perving eyes on you.’

  Olivia blinked.

  ‘You would?’

  He nodded and moved closer to her. As if she were a magnet and he couldn’t resist. Her small body was warm, and even though he wasn’t touching her he could feel the heat emanating from her.

  ‘If you were mine, Olivia, I’d barely let you out of the bedroom, where clothes don’t matter.’

  The silence that lay between them wasn’t awkward. And it wasn’t silent. He could see her thinking. He was sure she could see him thinking. Wanting to do something he shouldn’t. Wishing it was he who’d had those glasses of champagne. Maybe then he wouldn’t think so much.

  Olivia swayed and grabbed the wall for support, knocking the glass of water off in the process. It smashed noisily on the paving. He moved quickly to hold her around the waist. When she fell against him her breasts were soft against his chest. Then she moved even closer, snuggling in, making his chest expand and his arms hold her even tighter. Her blue eyes swivelled up to him and he saw the question in them. The air was thick and heavy and so was her need. He answered it automatically by pulling her in even closer.

  ‘You feel nice,’ she murmured as she snuggled in, and let out a little mew.

  For some reason that turned him on even more. Her soft hair tickled his chin. He leaned down a little to bury his nose in it and breathe her in. But he wasn’t here for this. He hadn’t come here this weekend to fondle innocent women on the terrace.

  ‘Olivia, are you all right?’

  ‘I am now,’ she murmured, pulling herself closer.

  Damn, that wasn’t what he’d wanted her to do. Holding her close to him felt good. Too good. And he didn’t deserve good. Not when his brother needed his support and his mother needed his explanations and his father needed help to calm down. Being out here with Olivia was a selfish indulgence. He tried to push her away but she held tight, and she was so close and so responsive she just snuggled back in. This was getting out of hand.

  ‘Olivia, you’re too...’

  The word intoxicating embedded itself into his mind as her scent circled around his face. She was intoxicating. She lifted her head and her eyes darkened. He knew the look on her face. Pure desire. He was sure she could see the same look on his face.

  ‘Too what?’

  She licked her bottom lip and his mind went blank. All thoughts of guilt disappeared and something more animal took over. Slowly, he brought his hand around to trace a finger along the edge of her chin. He wanted to touch her lips. Just once. Then he’d stop. All her lipstick had come off. Her lips were bare and delicious. He moved a single finger up to trace them and she stood still. Her breath warmed his finger. With his thumb, he swept a line past her open lips and she responded by poking her pink tongue out. It caught his thumb and he’d never felt anything more erotic.

  ‘Too much,’ he whispered as she sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth.

  Every thought fled his mind except that of her scent and the feel of her body and the sight of those plump lips in between her teeth. His erection was now so hard it hurt. With his hand on the small of her back he pressed her to him, wanting her to feel how much he wanted her.

  ‘Too intoxicating,’ he said as he looked into her eyes, which were now bright blue and hooded.

  He squeezed his finger and thumb under her chin and pushed it up a little. Closer to him. Olivia wasn’t looking for anything serious. She just wanted comfort. Comfort he could give. Comfort wouldn’t last past the weekend. He was able to do that.

  Thankfully, she moved her chin up higher, until finally he felt the warmth of her breath on his lips.

  Intoxicating.

  Intoxicated.

  The sharp tang of champagne on her breath hit his nose. He felt her sway slightly. Realisation made his eyes roll back. She was drunk and he was taking advantage of her. Quickly he used his hands to push her shoulders away.

  SEVEN

  ‘Olivia, stop...’

  Surprise filled her eyes. She frowned and watched his lips as he spoke.

  ‘We shouldn’t be doing this...’

  ‘Five minutes,’ she said suddenly, and loosened herself from his grip. ‘That’s my limit.’

  Her voice was angry and rough. He’d hurt her. He wanted to tell her he couldn’t kiss her when she was drunk. Especially when he wasn’t. He had to be the responsible one.

  Olivia moved quickly and headed for a lounger.

  She plonked herself in it, then angrily stood up again and removed the jacket from her shoulders, tossing it to his feet.

  ‘Five minutes—that’s all it ever takes.’

  ‘Olivia...’ He picked his jacket up and moved closer to drape it over her. She ripped it off again. He was reminded of a petulant child.

  ‘Go away, Edward. You’ve made your point.’

  ‘My point?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her eyes turned angrily towards him and flickered with distaste. ‘I’m the girl who’s gagging for it. The one you pash and dash with. I know that already—I don’t need you to point it out.’

  ‘I wasn’t trying to make any point.’

  He wasn’t sure what he’d been trying to do. He’d been caught up. In the stars, in her scent. Maybe he was more damn romantic than he’d thought. That idea sobered him up.

  ‘You want to know why people can’t stand to be with you for more than five minutes? You’re as inconsistent as an upstart peer trying to land a position in the Lords. A woman of so many faces I can’t keep up with them all.’

  ‘Then go away,’ she said quietly, mechanically. ‘Leave me alone.’

  She sat up and shifted on the chair and her head moved to one side. His chest clenched for a second. She wasn’t crying, was she? He didn’t do tears.

  Her breathing slowed and he moved closer. She snorted and shifted again, curling her legs up. She was asleep. Drunk and passed out.

  Brilliant. Now what was he supposed to do? She’d freeze to death out here.

  The noises from inside got closer a
nd he heard a tap on the door. Someone was sure to come out and find her there. She’d never live it down. So he did the only thing he could do. He scooped her limp body into his arms and walked with her across the lawn to the other side of the house, where he could take her in unnoticed and with her dignity still intact.

  * * *

  Olivia was awake, but everything was so heavy. Her arms, her limbs. She tried to move but a groggy heaviness prevented any movement. Her shoulder was hitting against something hard. A rhythmic thump-thump that was giving her a headache. She tried to open her eyes and pull herself up but she kept being pulled back down into sleepiness. It wasn’t until she felt the softness of a mattress beneath her that she was able to open her eyes.

  Standing above her, the veins in his neck throbbing, was Edward. Handsome, sexy, cranky Edward, with his hands on his hips. He looked beautiful and angry. Which made her laugh.

  ‘You think this is funny?’

  His voice was so lovely. Deep and gravelly. She could feel it in her core. Right where she hadn’t been touched in so long. Soooo long.

  ‘I think you’re funny.’ She kicked her very high shoes off and her feet let out a sigh of relief.

  He leaned down to reach behind her and she felt her body being tossed about until she was in between the sheets.

  ‘I’m glad you find me amusing.’

  He was now so close to her she could smell him. She breathed in heavily. He smelled so good. Like soap and man. Soap and man—that was funny. She giggled again. Then she wriggled. Something didn’t feel right. The bed was soft, but something was cutting into her. She reached round and realised what it was. The zipper of this ridiculous, fabulous dress. She tugged and pulled, trying to get it off.

  ‘Here, let me.’

  Edward’s big strong hands reached behind her and unzipped the dress. She breathed him in again. So lovely.

  Awkwardly she lifted the tight dress up and over her head. Then she reached for her bra clasp and flung the constricting garment off. Edward said nothing, but reached down to the bottom of the bed and pulled up a plump, warm duvet. Olivia snuggled down, feeling warm and comfortable. Finally. Bubbles of champagne still danced around in her head.

  ‘Stay with me for a while.’

  Edward hesitated before she felt the side of the bed sink. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but even as the champagne fogged her senses she knew she shouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t like that.

  ‘Talk to me,’ she insisted, closing her eyes against the bright light. ‘And switch the light off.’

  She felt him rise and the light went out. The blackness felt lovely, but in a second a warm light next to the bed went on and she felt the heaviness of Edward on the edge of the bed again. Even though she couldn’t see him very well she could still smell him. And feel him.

  ‘Edward?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Are you still here?’

  ‘Yes, Olivia. I’m still here. Which is why you can talk to me.’

  ‘Oh.’ She giggled. ‘Edward?’

  ‘Yes, Olivia.’

  ‘Can you wash my face?’

  ‘Can I what?’

  ‘Wash my face? Get all the make-up off? I can’t go to sleep with make-up on. It’ll ruin my comp...my complex...my skin.’

  She heard Edward sigh, and then his big body shifted. The door opened and shut quietly. He was gone. She was all alone and he’d left. Tears welled in her eyes and her stomach was heavy. She didn’t want Edward to leave. Not him. Not big, strong, awful Edward.

  But in a few seconds, before the tears had a chance to fall, he returned and she felt the comforting warmth of a hot cloth on her face. She sighed and pulled the duvet down so he could wipe her neck. With gentle strokes he moved across her face, removing all traces of her armour. He took a while on her eyes, gently moving the cloth back and forth.

  ‘Ouch,’ she complained.

  ‘Sorry.’ His deep voice was soft and calm and so very, very sexy. ‘What’s this?’

  She opened her eyes and lifted her head. Edward held what looked like a caterpillar in his hand. She looked up into his confused face and laughed.

  ‘It’s my eyelashes.’

  He looked back at them, and then at her eyes. Then he leaned closer and peeled the other set of false eyelashes off.

  ‘Why on earth would you wear these?’

  ‘To make my eyes appear larger and more bee-yoo-tiful!’ she announced with a laugh.

  He shook his head and moved the cloth over her eyes again.

  ‘I will never understand women.’

  ‘We’re very simple, Edward. You just have to know the secret.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Do everything we tell you and believe nothing we say.’

  He laughed at that. Then he was finished. The cloth was cold and he moved it away.

  ‘Will you put some cream on my face?’

  This time he didn’t sigh. He just asked, ‘Where is it?’

  ‘In my pink bag.’

  ‘This one?’

  He lifted up an overnight bag and Olivia nodded. She watched him rifle through her bag. His jacket was off and his white shirt strained across his shoulders and back as his hand sorted through. His long, lean legs were encased in black pants and she could see the outline of his muscular thigh as he moved. She was dying to touch him. But he wouldn’t like that.

  When he turned to her he was holding up four pots of cream.

  ‘That one,’ she said, and he unscrewed the lid, sitting down beside her again.

  It felt so good to have him there. She felt safe and cared for. She never felt like this at the beauty salon when they rubbed cream on her face. Somehow Edward’s long, strong fingers roaming her face felt different. Very different. As in her breasts felt tight and moisture rushed to her core different.

  She opened her eyes and watched him. Concentration was etched on his face. Although his fingers seemed large against her skin he was moving very, very gently. She wondered for a moment what those fingers would feel like stroking something else. Somewhere else. Somewhere hotter and wetter. She drew her lip in and bit it. Edward’s fingers stopped moving and he watched her mouth. Then his eyes slid to hers.

  ‘Am I hurting you?’

  Although she’d thought it impossible, his voice had become even lower. And even sexier. She wanted to touch him. But she couldn’t. He definitely wouldn’t like that.

  ‘No, what you’re doing is perfect.’

  A little half-smile spread over his lips and she felt herself drowning in those dark chocolate eyes again.

  ‘Then relax and enjoy it.’

  She heard his words, let them wash over her and did as she was told. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of his fingers as they spread across her forehead and over her eyelids. Down her cheek and over her chin, then lower. Along her neck to her collarbones, where he paused and withdrew his hand. She gasped, but then he was back with more cream. He spread it across her collarbones and further down. She arched into his hand and he rubbed gently on her chest. She felt as if she would burst with anticipation. Then he stopped.

  Her eyes flew open. He was screwing the lid on, his eyes off her. ‘There—is that better?’

  She couldn’t speak. His handsome profile rendered her mute. She just nodded and his eyes turned to hers. He watched her for a second and she felt herself grow warm under his gaze. She lay still, watching him watch her. Then he leaned forward and she held her breath. He was going to kiss her. The most handsome, beautiful man in the world was going to kiss her. Her! But his lips touched her forehead instead.

  ‘Sleep,’ he said quietly, before pulling a bottle of water from her Mary Poppins-esque make-up bag. ‘Drink some water. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  He s
tood to leave. She didn’t want him to go. She wanted him to stay and touch her some more.

  ‘Eddie?’

  He turned and looked at her. So beautiful. So kind.

  ‘You’re not awful. You’re nice.’

  He smiled widely enough that she could see his perfect white teeth.

  ‘Sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

  She closed her eyes and within seconds was asleep.

  EIGHT

  When Olivia woke up it felt as if she’d left her brain on the pillow. She put her hand to her head. It ached so much she thought she was having one of those brain aneurysm thingys. Then her brain caught up and told her about the dead rat in her mouth. She slapped her tongue on the top of her mouth, trying to wet it.

  Opening her eyes slowly, she tried to remember where she was. The sun was streaming in through the gap between a set of pale flowery curtains. She was in a very big, very soft bed. Slowly, she looked around. She was in a bedroom. Teal-blue wallpaper printed with spring flowers surrounded the walls and near the door was a dark wooden dressing table. The mirror was facing her. Her hair was sticking up everywhere and there were black circles under her eyes. And she was naked. Except for her ludicrously small G-string. And she had no idea how she’d got here, where she was, or why she was naked.

  An awful thought fell into her mind and she looked beside her. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. She was alone. Thank God.

  Slowly and carefully she eased herself out of the bed. In the corner were her bags—all stacked up neatly. Next to the green lamp on the bedside table was a bottle of water and her face cream. She couldn’t have been too drunk if she’d managed to find her cream and think about water. She took a long slug of the water before getting up to move closer to the dressing table. Her make-up was all off. Except for the dark kohl eyeliner around her eyes, which was impossible to get off without the proper cleansers. She felt a little better. She must have been sober enough to remove her make-up.

  Turning to her bags, she moved slowly, allowing her head to catch up. She needed a shower. And a cup of tea. And probably a big, fat, greasy bacon and egg roll. Her stomach growled in agreement. She was starving.