by Cary Hart
He mimics my movement. “And I don’t?”
I take a moment to appreciate the view. And what a view it is. His sculpted, tan chest cuts down to a perfect trim waist. His little happy treasure trail disappears with his V, down into the cheesiest tuxedo boxers. I’m thankful for the comic relief of black shorty shorts. They are the only thing keeping my hormones in check.
“But you don’t have on these.” I lift up the “groom” tee and flash him my “bridal veil” panties.
“Oh man!” Grant brings his fist up to his mouth and bites.
“I told you, but it’s better than that stuffy robe.” I slide past Grant, and he follows.
“I have to know…are those crotchless?”
“These?” I point down to my panties at the ridiculous veil covering my hoo-ha. “Nope. It’s just for decoration.” I do a little shimmy.
“Whoa! And just like that, we go from wedding to full-blown reception.” Grant takes me by the hand and does a little dance back to the bed. “Let’s get this party started.”
I can’t believe what I’m seeing. First, the bath, and now this? If this is how Grant Foster takes care of his women,
then I may be okay with this whole enemies to lovers thing.
“Climb on carefully or the pepperonis go flying.” He picks one up and pops it into his mouth.
“You did this?” I ask, even though I know the answer. We are in Las Vegas, during a blackout, with no cell service. I’m pretty sure Uber Eats won’t be delivering.
“You haven’t eaten and we have food.” Grant picks up a piece of cheese. “It seemed like the logical choice.”
Glancing around the room, I can’t help but take in the setting. Is what I’m feeling even real, or is it a product of my surroundings?
Heart-shaped bed – check.
Candles – check.
Romantic picnic – check.
Hot man lying across the bed in a pair of tuxedo boxers – check.
“Don’t overthink this, Vegas,” Grant interrupts. “We are both exhausted, and the bed seemed like a logical choice. If you want me to move this to the floor, I can, but—”
“Ew, no.” I frantically shake my head. “I can’t even begin to imagine.”
“Let’s don’t,” he says as he gently pats the other side of the bed. “Come lie down, have a little bite to eat, and maybe get to know each other better in the process.” Grant voice is soft, comforting, and a tad unsure.
Tugging at the bottom of my tee, I step toward the bed, uncertain of what’s going to happen. I’ve weighed the pros and cons of this since the day I met Grant Foster.
Mr. Right: Charming. Spontaneous. Witty. Dedicated. Attractive. Smart. Hard worker.
Mr. Wrong: One Stop Wedding Shop!!!!
On paper, he’s great, but there’s one thing I’m not sure I can overlook. I made a promise to Harold and Darla, and I refuse to break it. Even if it’s for the one person I should.
But tonight—this isn’t because of us. It’s the blackout. A situation beyond our control. Tomorrow, hopefully things will go back to normal and I can continue to fight to keep that promise, but right now, I give in. I open my mouth and let the words roll off my tongue. “Sounds perfect.”
I didn’t realize a lot of things. Like how lonely I was—am. Everything seems to have changed since I found Grant Foster in the kitchen of the One Stop Wedding Shop.
Including me…
He’s cleared the tray away and is moving toward me, slowly, but with intention. Much like he’s a lion and I’m the startled prey. I stay frozen in anticipation, waiting for him, knowing he’s about to change it even more with his touch.
“I wonder what this button does?” He leans over me, not attacking. Not claiming, but curious to what it is.
“I don’t know.” I reach out and tap it a couple times.
Nothing.
“Did you just turn on that switch?” He gives me a knowing grin. “Do you need a reminder the power is out?” He lies back down beside me, rolling to his side, head propped up on this elbow.
“It’s an instant reaction. You asked, I tried it, and it didn’t work.” I stick out my tongue and roll over to face him.
“You’re beautiful,” he blurts out.
“Me sticking out my tongue? That’s beautiful?” I purse my lips.
“No, your tongue does something else.” He winks.
“You mentioned earlier you are, or were, an actress.” He lays his head on the pillow. “Tell me about it?”
“So, this is our get to know you sessions?” I reply.
“Yeah, kind of like twenty-one questions.” He waves his hand in front of me. “Now, carry on.”
“I moved to New York in hopes of modeling, but later realized I loved acting, the problem? No one else realized my talent.”
“I’m sure you’re very talented.” He does that cheesy
brow waggle that should be repulsive, but on him, it’s sexy in a smooth kind of way.
“The director sure thought so,” I purr, waggling my own brows suggestively, making his eyes grow wide before narrowing on me.
“He what?” he growls.
“Gotcha.” I reach out to tap him playfully, but when my hand brushes the skin of his shoulder, I’m reminded of how he makes me feel. How much I want him. These questions are just a stalling game to what we both know is about to happen. What we want to happen.
Before we move on, I need to know something. I need to know why. There will be no going back. Taking a deep breath, I gaze into his eyes. He sees the shift in mood, or maybe it’s the quiver in my voice.
We’ve been lying here for hours, and there is one question I want to ask—one question that will solve everything.
“Can I ask you a serious question?” I wince but quickly continue. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”
“Sure.” He nods.
“Why didn’t you come to your grandparents’ funeral? Because being out of the country isn’t really an excuse.”
I thought he didn’t care. That they didn’t mean anything to him. That this place meant nothing to him. Yet, being here, in this room with him, tells me a completely different story. This man isn’t a man who runs—this is a man who tackles life head on.
“I didn’t know,” he whispers.
“Huh?” How could he not?
“I didn’t know. I was in Africa and dropped my phone down a well and had no way of getting a new one. By the time I found out what happened, it was too late. I left on a red-eye that night and came straight here.” He reaches between us and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Where I met you.”
I swallow, feeling guilty. I thought he abandoned them. That he was just some trust-fund kid who didn’t have a care in the world. I thought he wanted their money, not their memories.
“I was a jerk to you that day, and less than twenty-four hours before that, you found out you lost not one, but both of your grandparents.”
“You had no way of knowing.” His smile is weak.
“But I hit you hard. I threw everything in your face. The notes…” I trail off, remembering everything that’s happened since then.
“I didn’t ignore the notes. My grandmother had a similar system—it brought back memories and I pushed them away.”
“I blamed you. I blamed you for all this.” I lean forward so he can see my sincerity. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You were protecting what they built.”
“One more question.” I hold up a finger. “And then I promise this interrogation will be over.”
“Mmm…okay,” he groans.
“Are you going to sell the One Stop Wedding Shop?” I blurt out.
There—done. Now, I wait.
“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about before you ran off. So, I’m guessing you found the papers?”
He rolls over to his back. “Because let me tell you, that was a real mood killer.”
“I was looking fo
r mints!” I protest.
“To kiss me?” He leans back in.
“Maybe?” I tease. “So, are you?”
“Am I what?” He scoots a little closer.
“Going to sell?” I remind him.
“Sorry, I was distracted by our maybe kiss,” he says, puckering up. “I thought I was doing what my grandparents wanted me to do, but lately, I realize, I may have been wrong.”
“So—you’re not selling it?”
“I’m not. No—I can’t.” He leans in so close, his breath teases my skin.
“Why?”
“Because it matters.”
Grant
“Kiss me.” Her words say what her body wants me to do, but I don’t.
Reaching over, I cup the side of her face in my hand and let it trail down, rubbing the pad of my thumb over her full, screaming-to-be-touched lips.
“Kiss me,” she pleads. I want to give in, but the moment I do, I’ll be a goner. I won’t be accountable for my actions after that; I want her too much.
My hand flips over so I can trace my fingertips down her cheeks to the soft skin of her neck. I continue down, slowly, until the thin cotton of the cheesy shirt stops me.
“Let’s get you more comfortable.” I grip the fabric in my hands and peel it upward as she lifts her hands in invitation.
“Hate for you to be lonely in your shirtless-ness,” she teases.
Speaking of teasing, my eyes drink in her perfect, perky tits nearly at eye-level as she stretches up, and I toss the shirt aside.
She’s mouthwatering, and I’m craving to taste her.
My eyes travel lower as she settles herself back on the bed, shifting nervously.
“Don’t hide,” I try to reassure her. There is nothing for her to be nervous about. “I want this…” A heavy sigh escapes, and I reach out for her hands and kiss the palms, one, then the other.
“I’m not.” Her voice is breathless, and I release her hands to grab her hips and draw her closer to me.
As I massage her thighs, she watches me and eases back on the pillows. Neither of us says anything for a minute, just take each other in and enjoy this moment.
“Kiss me?” she speaks up, and now it’s me who’s nervous. This is so much more than a quick hook up in a honeymoon suite.
This is my future laid before me.
“Oh, I’m going to kiss you…breathless.” My voice drops, and the look in her eyes lets me know she’s on to me.
Her beaming smile is all the encouragement I need.
I lower my head between her thighs, and they fall open in anticipation. I can’t help but smile, my lips brushing against the delicate fabric as she arches. The white sheer is the only barrier from the spot I’ve been dying to taste.
“May I kiss the bride?” I look up, and my desire is reflected in her gaze.
Vegas giggles as she covers her face with her hands, and her body quivers.
“I was hoping you would say that.” I run my hand down the slope of her hip, wrap the string around my fingers, and yank.
“Holy shit.” She leans up on her elbows. “Someone’s been working out,” she says before sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, making me grow even harder for her.
“You think?” I tease, tossing the torn panties over my shoulder, making a mental note to grab them later. My own personal Vegas souvenir.
“I know.” Her eyes light with a wicked gleam, and palms reach up to pull my shoulders toward her. When she puts her hands on me, all bets are off. I need her.
My lips brush against her inner thigh and rise to where I need to be. Right before I have a taste, I switch legs and repeat the journey.
“You’re killing me,” she huffs out, raising her hips gently, begging for my mouth on her. I inch closer to put us both out of our misery.
“Time to kiss the bride.” My words whisper against her folds before I place a gentle kiss to her core. Then another. On the third one, my tongue darts out. I swipe deep, and drink her in. I know I’m hitting her spot when her fingers tangle in my hair.
I kiss her like I mean it. I devour her like I’m a starving man and she’s my last meal. She bucks and moans, and my palms grab her ass and lift her up as I press my mouth deeper. She’s on fire. Lit.
I don’t even realize how hard I am until it’s painful, consumed with the taste of her.
“I need you—now.” Vegas rolls us over and climbs on top. It’s fucking hot to see her like this, in full Vegas mode—in charge and making demands. If she stops to make a list, I just might die from blue balls.
With her hands on my chest, she steadies herself, then pauses. Her stare hits me in the core. The desire is so raw.
“What’s stopping you?” I fold my hands behind my head and continue to admire everything that is Vegas Manilow. Slightly sun-kissed skin, flushed cheeks nearly hidden by her wild mane of blonde hair. Those deep green eyes mesmerize me. Her petite, perfect body fits mine like we are two pieces of a puzzle.
Her demeanor shifts, and suddenly, she seems nervous.
“Vegas?” I prop myself up. “We don’t have to—”
“No!” she blurts out. “I mean, yes—I do.” She covers her face. “Gah! This is so hard.”
“Thanks for noticing.” I chuckle as I pull a hand away.
She smiles.
I wink.
Whatever was going on, she relaxes.
“Condom,” she whispers.
“Why didn’t you say so?” I reach over and open the drawer. “It’s a honeymoon suite.” I pull out a handful. “We have flavored, ribbed, glow-in-the-dark, and my favorite, XXL.” I nod toward the obvious. “I think the latter would be best, don’t you think?”
“Stop it!” She playfully smacks my chest and picks up the glow-in-the-dark one. “We have a theme going, I think we should stick to it.” Vegas rips open the package with her teeth and leans back.
“Wow!” Her eyes get big. “Looks like your collar is a little too tight.” She flicks at the flap decorating the tuxedo boxers.
“I know. Want to rethink your choice?” I raise an eyebrow.
“I’m good.”
I bite my lip as her petite hand lowers the boxers and places the condom on. Her hand shakes as she rolls it slowly down my shaft. Inch by inch, I struggle not to embarrass myself. Her touch is enough to have me coming like a boy on prom night, but before I can beg her to ride me, she climbs on and slides down in one swift moment.
“Holy fuck!” The words wheeze out, and my breath is stolen as her warm heat adjusts for my cock.
We both pause. I struggle to let her remain in control. She feels so fucking good. She sets the pace and grinds down on me, her hips rotating slightly before slowly dragging back up, torturing me with each rise and fall of her warm, drenched pussy. Her palms slap against my chest as she holds herself steady, riding me like she owns me—and she does. She just doesn’t know it yet. Time to show her who she belongs to.
Groaning, I sit up and press myself deeper into her. She calls out my name like a prayer.
“Grannnt.” The quiver in her voice and the throb of her on me, I know she’s close.
Flipping her on her back, her arms instinctively wrap around my neck as I speed up the pace, hitting her spot over and over, taking us both over the edge.
It’s like my body and hers fused with a white-hot heat I never knew existed. I’m shell-shocked.
Her legs squeeze me tighter as the last of her orgasm quakes through her. I’m suddenly aware I’ve collapsed on Vegas and quickly press myself up on both arms.
“Don’t go.” She tries to hold me tighter as I withdraw from her warm heat.
“Shhh. Just gonna get rid of this.” I motion, snapping the condom off before I skip from the bed to properly dispose of it. “I know who cleans these rooms, remember?”
She laughs, rolling on her side.
“Oh yeah.” She giggles, and the sound shifts something in my chest. She sounds happy. I did that. Pride. I feel like the king
of the jungle or something.
Bringing back a warm cloth, I place it between her legs and massage before tossing it aside. She settles into my arms, and I hold her tight.
“Vegas, I don’t want this to end,” I confess as I pull her in, her back to my front.
Turning her head, she stretches to meet my lips. “Me either. Let’s just stay like this forever.”
Forever?
Forever is not something I am used to. Forever is claustrophobic. But hearing her say forever has me wanting it—with her.
“What the hell?” I sit up as Grant jumps out of bed.
“It’s an earthquake!” he shouts, scanning the room frantically.
“Baaaaaaaah,” Burt chimes in.
Burt Reynolds? In our room?
“Wh-at is-is go-ing onnn?” My voice is shaky from the oddly relaxing vibration from the bed. “W-hy is Bu-rt in he-re?” I point toward him as Viva Las Vegas blares from the gyrating Elvis alarm clock. “And w-hy is th-at th-ing on?”
Grant reaches over, unplugs the clock, and flips the switch to the bed. “Well, I guess that answers the ‘is it on or off’ question.” He stands beside the bed, hands on hips, staring between me and the goat, unaware he is as naked as the day he was born.
I smile and point toward not so little Grant. Mornings are really good to him. I wonder….
“I’m not sure how I feel about this.” Grant motions to Burt, who is standing there munching on the end of the sheets, slowly pulling them off me as he does so. “He’s staring at you.”
Is he? I mean, he’s eating the sheets and looking at me, but is he really looking at me?
“You’re crazy,” I say as I bring my hands up to cover my breasts—just in case.
“How did he even get in here?” Grant starts to round the bed when flashes of the basement incident play in my mind. “Grant, no!” I scream, pointing to the goat, then to his jewels.
Grant’s eyes grow big as he backs away, covering himself. “Thanks. I didn’t even notice.”
“You’re welcome. I’m invested now,” I joke, trying to keep this moment light. What happened last night was pretty heavy, and now that the power seems to be back on, I’m not sure where we stand.