“I want you,” she whispered. She breathed a sigh of relief when he finally sheathed himself with a condom, only to then tease her slick entrance until she whimpered from a pleasure that was nearly pain.
“Please,” she panted on a stuttering breath.
With a noise that was more growl than groan, he surged forward, entering her on a single stroke, then stilled. He stayed like that, buried inside her, until she couldn’t take it any longer. She rocked up, desperately seeking the friction she craved.
“Don’t,” he ground out. The strain in his voice betrayed his barely leashed control. “Let me feel you.”
Her body pulsed around him as her breathing became more and more shallow. This was torture of the most exquisite kind. Then, just when she thought she might combust from sheer need, Hank gripped the back of her thigh and with a flex of his hips, pushed deeper. The fullness was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Like every other moment they’d shared, she wanted to hold onto it, to prolong it while committing every detail to memory. But then his mouth covered hers and he began to move, thrusting into her in a deliberate, unhurried rhythm that perfectly matched the lush strokes of his tongue. The sensation overwhelmed and bombarded her senses and she knew it wouldn’t be long until she was coming apart beneath him.
Cassie’s back arched and her teeth sank into her lower lip. Feel it, remember it, make it last. Then he shifted, hitting a spot inside her she never even knew existed. She cried out, her nails sinking into his back as she rode a wave of pleasure so intense, she saw stars despite the midday sun. Hank didn’t let up. He stayed right with her, rolling into her with each stroke and prolonging the heightened sense until a second wave washed over, no less devastating than the first. Only then did he give himself over to his own release, letting out a low groan as an orgasm racked his large frame.
Aftershocks had her body shuddering against his for long moments. When she finally stilled, he lifted his head, bearing his weight on his elbows as he gazed down at her. “Not such a bad day after all?” he asked, brushing his lips softly across hers.
“I’ll give horseback riding a six.” She pushed his hair from his eyes and smiled. “But this picnic rates a definite ten.”
He laughed, a sound that was nearly as rough as his breathing. “Wait until you try the second course.”
Chapter Fourteen
A stream of sunlight woke Cassie from the most amazing dream. She was in the Georgia countryside with a handsome European, eating cheese and drinking wine in a hayloft that had been decorated to look like a rustic hotel. But as sunlight and consciousness seeped into her foggy brain, she began to realize it wasn’t a dream, it was her reality. She actually was tangled in silk sheets and she actually had spent the afternoon of her brother’s wedding in bed with God’s gift to accents.
Her brother’s wedding!
Cassie’s eyes flew open as she shot upright in bed. A strong arm circled her waist, urging her back to the pillow.
“Hank!” she shrieked.
He bolted up next to her. “What? What’s wrong?”
“The wedding!” The ceremony was set to begin at five o’clock and judging by the angle of the afternoon sun, that time was a lot closer than she wanted it to be.
He checked the watch strapped to his wrist. “It’s four fifteen. We can still make it.”
The two of them scrambled out of bed, bumping into each other as they gathered their clothes up off the floor. How could she be so stupid as to fall asleep? An all-nighter of sex and baking, that’s how. Combine that with midday wine and a bed that felt like a cloud that had floated down to Earth, and she never stood a chance.
“Sorry,” she said as she bent to pull her bra out from under the corner of the featherbed, knocking Hank with her ass in the process.
“I’m not,” he said in a voice totally at odds with the frantic feeling in the pit of her stomach. She turned to find him admiring her backside with an unabashed appreciation. Under most circumstances she would have been mortified to discover a man she liked had a full-on view of her uncovered ass. And in broad daylight no less! But for some reason Hank’s lingering gaze didn’t leave her feeling vulnerable or exposed, it left her feeling beautiful and desired. She took a moment to return the favor, letting her eyes drink in the sight of him. His hair was even more of a mess than usual and his beautiful face was creased from the pillow, but he was still the most handsome man she’d ever seen. If only they had more time . . .
Time. Crap, the time.
“Stop!”
“Stop what?” he asked. Gorgeous bastard, he knew exactly what.
“Stop distracting me with your . . .” She waved her hand through the air. “With all that!”
Hank chuckled as he pulled his boxer briefs up over his thighs. “Relax, love. The car is just downstairs. I’ll have you back to town in fifteen minutes which will give you plenty of time to change and get to the church.”
“Fifteen minutes?” she squeaked as she hooked her bra. “It took us over thirty to get here.”
They both yanked their jeans on at the same time. No telling where her panties were, but there was no time to waste searching. Commando would have to do, at least until she could make it back to her room.
“That’s because we were taking a leisurely drive,” he said, buttoning his shirt while she pulled her T-shirt over her head and stepped into her shoes.
Holy mother of God, if that was leisurely, then she shuddered to think what was in store for her once she climbed back into that flying torpedo. Not that she had much choice. Desperate times called for desperate measures and right now she was about as desperate as a woman could get. Her brother was going to kill her. Scratch that, her mother would kill her, Matthew would be too busy finishing off Hank. Bottom line: They were totally screwed.
* * *
Hank slipped into a pew near the back of the church just as the last bridesmaid finished her walk down the aisle.
“Little late for ushering duties,” the bride’s cousin Pat whispered a bit too loudly. “You might not be included in the next one.” He laughed at his own joke, then frowned as he realized what he’d just implied.
“Car trouble,” Hank said. Meaning the car wouldn’t drive as fast as the ones he had back home. Not that he could have really opened her up. As it was Cassie had squealed more on the ride back to the inn than she had on the horse. Amazing how one woman’s near-hysterical laughter could bring him so much joy.
A few gray-haired women in hats to rival any seen at the Kentucky Derby turned around to shush them. The two men had no sooner nodded in apology when the organ began to play Wagner’s “Bridal Chorus,” prompting everyone in the crowded church to stand as one. Hank buttoned the jacket of his black tuxedo and straightened his bow tie. All heads turned as the doors at the rear of the church opened and Emily and her father began their walk down the aisle. But while everyone else’s attention was on the woman in white, Hank’s gaze was locked on the front of the church where a beautiful woman in pale pink was doing her best to discreetly take her place on the altar.
It was a beautiful wedding, as far as weddings go. No one forgot their vows and the best man didn’t lose the rings. And although Hank had been to dozens of ceremonies, what struck him most about this one was the look on his mate’s face as the preacher said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” It was like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear those words, which might have explained why he jumped the gun and kissed his bride before the poor man had even finished speaking. The entire church erupted in a quiet laughter as the normally reserved and level-headed Matthew Miller got swept up in the moment and swept his pretty wife off her feet. This was usually the point where Hank would start to hum the opening bars of “Another One Bites the Dust” but for some reason he found himself smiling and clapping like the group of mad hatters seated in front of him.
He watched as the wedding party followed the bride and groom down the aisle, catching Cassie’s eye and giving
her a devilish wink that made her cheeks blush the color of her dress. After she passed he joined the ranks as the guests flowed down the steps of the church. The sun had dipped behind a thick row of pine trees and the first fireflies of the night had started to flicker across the lawn.
“Shotgun,” a voice behind him said.
Hank turned to find his golf partner from the day before. He wore a sport coat and tie instead of a lime green polo shirt and plaid pants, but his carefree demeanor was still the same.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I called shotgun,” Conor said. “It means I’m riding in the passenger seat.”
There wasn’t a back seat. Well, technically there was, although the only way he would fit would be to put half his body in the boot. But that was beside the point. Hank wasn’t aware that Conor was riding with him at all. “I’m familiar with the term but—”
“But you’ve got the sickest ride here,” he said, slapping Hank on the back and flashing him a wide grin. “So I’m all yours.”
Great, he thought, though not that it really mattered. It wasn’t likely that Cassie was going to ditch her family to ride with him, especially not after arriving late. Instinctively, he sought her out across the car park. She was bending down to speak to one of the flower girls who was apparently distraught after emptying her entire basket of rose petals. Hank watched as Cassie wiped tears from the young girl’s cheek, then smiled and gave her the pink-and-white bouquet she’d just carried up the aisle. The child’s face lit up and she scampered off to join her mum. As Cassie straightened, her eyes met his. When they did, her face lit up in a smile not unlike the one he’d just seen on the young flower girl. Only in this case the reaction wasn’t due to an upgrade in flower arrangements. No, the smile that spread across sweet Cassie’s face was all because of him.
An unfamiliar sensation gripped Hank’s chest but before he’d had time to even begin to think about what it meant, their connection was broken by the arrival of a long black limousine. Cassie gave him a small wave before ducking inside. He knew it would only be a matter of minutes until he saw her again, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the loss of her presence. It was ridiculous really, she was taking a car to a reception on the other side of town, not a flight across the ocean to a city on the other side of the globe. But come tomorrow, that would be exactly what he would do. The realization hit him like a brick wall.
And so did Conor.
“Let’s go,” he said, body-slamming into him from the side. “They might not keep the bar open during dinner, which means I’ll need to stock up.”
Hank opened the door to his rented Porsche and slid behind the wheel. Come dawn he was going to tell Cassie the truth, and while he didn’t know how she would react, one thing was certain: They still had tonight.
* * *
Cassie waited until dinner was over before excusing herself from the head table. After arriving late she didn’t think it would look too good if she was in the restroom when it came time for the toasts. So instead she’d stayed in her chair, smiling and clapping and clinking her butter knife against her champagne flute, until the bride and groom had shared their first dance. After that, all bets were off. She might have even cut line in front of a pregnant woman, something she wasn’t proud of, but again desperate times and all that.
She’d only made it halfway back to the table when Olivia grabbed her by the arm.
“There’s hay in your hair,” she whispered in her ear.
Cassie’s hand flew to the French twist she’d hastily thrown together on the drive to the church. “Oh,” was all she managed to say.
“Yeah, oh.” Olivia smiled and shook her head. She was wearing a jade green dress that did crazy things to her hazel eyes and had her blonde waves swept to one side. She looked like a million bucks. Or as Cole would have no doubt corrected, a billion.
Cassie opened her mouth to offer a feeble excuse but Olivia cut her off. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask for the details.” She smiled. “At least not right now. First, I want you to point out Mr. Sexy Accent.” Olivia glanced around the crowded ballroom. “Which one is he?”
Cassie searched the room until she found Hank standing near the bar. He was having a conversation with the priest who’d said the wedding mass, although from the looks of it, Hank wasn’t the one doing the talking. A ghost of a smile curved her lips as she imagined the padre giving Hank a lecture on his late arrival. If he only knew what had happened at church the day before.
“He’s over there,” she said. “Talking to the priest.”
“Damn, girl, you know how to pick ’em. No beer goggles needed for that hook-up.” Olivia snagged two glasses of white wine from a passing waiter and thrust one in Cassie’s direction. “Here,” she said. “Have a drink with me and as soon as Hank is done confessing all his sins you can take me over there and introduce me because I’m dying to meet the man who not only gave you that hickey,” she said, nodding to Cassie’s neck, “but who made you late to your own brother’s wedding.”
Her hand flew to her neck. “Are you serious?”
“About meeting this mystery hunk?” Olivia teased. “You betcha.”
“No, about the hickey?” she asked under her breath. Cassie had never even had a hickey as a teenager. Then again, it wasn’t like she’d had many boys interested in giving her one. None, actually. But to have one now, at twenty-eight? Jeez Louise, this day was a hot mess.
“Oh yeah.” Olivia narrowed her gaze and leaned in for a better look. “Nice work too. Also helps explain why you were late. Hickey on your neck, hay in your hair . . .” Olivia counted the evidence on the fingers of her free hand. “Holy shitballs!” she said as the light bulb turned on. “You did it in a hayloft.”
“Livvy!” Cassie checked to see if anyone was in earshot.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Right about what?” Cassie’s mother asked.
Cassie startled. “Nothing,” she said a bit too quickly. Smooth, Cass, real smooth. From the way she was acting you’d have thought the two of them had just been busted smoking a cigarette in the school lunchroom. Olivia on the other hand was cool as a cucumber—if cucumbers were blonde troublemakers hell-bent on giving Cassie a coronary before the age of thirty.
“I was just telling Cassie how much I like her hair up like that.”
Her mother squinted her eyes, leaving Cassie to hope like hell there wasn’t another piece of hay tucked away somewhere.
“Beautiful ceremony, don’t you think?” her mother asked Olivia before turning her attention toward Cassie. “Glad you didn’t miss all of it.”
Here we go. Cassie shot Olivia a plea for help, but her best friend merely smiled over the top of her wine glass as she drifted away. Traitor. But it was just as well. She’d played, now it was time to pay. But like her mother pointed out, she didn’t miss all of it, just getting ready in the bridal suite, and the family pictures beforehand, and her walk down the aisle. Her shoulders sagged. Oh, who was she kidding? There was no way around it, she was a horrible sister. “I . . . I . . .” she searched for the words to somehow justify her rather late and disruptive entrance to her own brother’s wedding then decided the truth was the best option. “I met someone.”
“And you couldn’t wait until after the ceremony to have a chat?”
“No, mom, you don’t understand. I met someone.”
Realization dawned and her mother’s eyes grew wide. “You did?” she asked a bit louder than necessary. “When? Where?”
Not too bad. Her mother was appeased and she’d only hit her with two questions—and they weren’t even difficult ones to answer.
“I met him Thursday at the bakery,” she said. The words came so easily, she decided to offer a bit more. “He stopped in for directions.”
“How old is he? Where is he from? Does he want children?”
So much for easy. “You heard the part about only meeting him on Thursday, right?”
“Sorr
y, I’m just so happy for you. You’re always working. I can’t even remember the last time you had a date.”
Cassie stood a bit taller. “Well, I had one this afternoon,” she said. Even she could hear the joy in her voice. “He took me horseback riding.”
“Oh sweetie, that’s wonderful. Do you know when you’ll be seeing him again?”
Instinctively her eyes darted to where she’d last seen Hank. His conversation with the minster appeared to be over and now he was alone at the bar. “Actually, I think I’ll go and see him right now,” she said. It was impossible to stop the goofy smile that spread across her face.
“He’s here?” her mother squeaked.
“Yes,” she said before her mother had the chance to launch another round of rapid-fire inquiries. “But please don’t make me regret telling you.” Truth be told, she couldn’t have kept it a secret if she tried. Cassie was an open book when it came to her emotions. Happy or sad they bubbled right up to the surface and at the moment she was so full of happiness, she was ready to burst.
* * *
Hank never thought the preacher would leave. Normally he was a pro when it came to making small talk, but the clock was ticking and his time with Cassie was quickly running out. He’d endured the ceremony, the dinner, endless stream of toasts, and even the bride and groom’s first dance, watching and waiting for the time to come that he could whisk her away, or at the very least, sweep her across the dance floor. When she finally left the table, he’d made his move, only to be intercepted by the good minister. Halfway through their conversation inspiration struck, and by the time he’d finished his penance, he was well on his way to a full-blown idea.
He made it as far as the bar when a petite blonde strode up like a woman on a mission.
“So you’re the infamous Hank,” she said, extending her hand.
“Guilty as charged.”
“I’m Olivia Ramsey,” she said. When Hank didn’t catch the significance she added. “Cassie’s best friend.
Icing on the Cake Page 17