by Lauren Rowe
After bailing on the wrap party last night, Violet hasn’t contacted me. And since I don’t have her phone number, I haven’t been able to do anything about it. I swear, the minute this ceremony is over, I’m going to pull Reed aside and get Miranda’s phone number. Not sure what I’ll say to Reed to make my request seem innocuous, what bullshit I’ll spew to keep Reed from telling C-Bomb I’m apparently planning to hit on C-Bomb’s little sister. But I’ll figure it out.
The bride’s voice draws my attention back to the ceremony. Hannah is looking at Henn, saying, “. . . and that’s the precise moment I knew you were the perfect man for me.”
Everyone around me chuckles at whatever humorous thing Hannah just said. But, of course, the joke is lost on my wandering brain.
“You’re my best friend, Henny,” Hannah continues, her eyes and hands locked with her groom’s. “My Prince Charming. I promise to love and cherish you. To be the best wife and friend I can be to you, forever.”
Henn visibly vibrates with joy and everyone swoons and chuckles at his reaction.
As Henn begins saying his vows, my gaze drifts to the far corner of the patio, to the spot where I sat with Violet eight months ago. Instantly, my mind conjures my image and Violet’s, sitting together on a loveseat. She’s dressed like Elvis reimagined. I’m wearing a goofy smile. I see us talking, laughing... and, finally, kissing.
Fireworks.
I feel them now, just remembering that amazing kiss, every bit as much as I felt them back then.
But, suddenly, my happy memories are invaded by images of Caleb’s face. He’s smiling at me on that balcony last night. Thanking me. Trusting me.
I return to the ceremony again, my chest heaving, to find Henn in the middle of saying his vows. Henn is saying, “. . . and when our eyes met that first time, I instantly felt like I was home in your eyes. And I’ve been feeling at home with you—wherever we are and whatever we’re doing—ever since.”
Everyone around me swoons. And all I can think about is Violet, yet again. The way I felt at home in her eyes, the minute she smiled at me across that crowded party. No, the minute she scowled at me like she was pissed I hadn’t approached her quickly enough.
I look at my mom and dad next to me. Their hands are clasped. I peek at Colby and his wife on the other side of me. Then Ryan and his wife. Every couple is holding hands and looking sentimental. Reliving their own vows, I’m sure. Remembering how they felt at home in their own spouse’s eyes, the moment they met.
You can’t have her, Dax. It’s too complicated. Too fucked up. You barely know her. You’re projecting. The feelings aren’t real. You can’t betray Caleb.
But nothing my brain screams at me is convincing my heart in the least.
My eyes drift toward the front of the patio again. I’m intending to peek at my sister and her husband up there, to see if they’re looking as sentimental as the other spouses in my family... but my attention is sharply diverted by a woman in the second row.
Who the fuck is that?
My heart stops.
I can’t see the woman’s face, only the back of her dark head, but... Oh my fucking God! It’s Violet! She just turned her head, ever so briefly, and I could plainly see Violet’s profile!
I’m instantly on fire. Every cell in my body wants to bolt out of my chair and sprint to her, but since the goddamned wedding ceremony isn’t over yet, I’m forced to sit in my seat, fidgeting and rocking like a kid in need of a toilet.
My mom puts her hand on my leg and squeezes. And when I look at her, she’s glaring at me like, What the hell is wrong with you?
I shake my head. Don’t even start with me, Mom. Not now.
The officiant says, “Henn and Hannah, by the laws of the State of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Henn, you may kiss your bride.”
The place erupts in applause while I sit on my hands. How is Violet here? Is she friends with Hannah, the bride? That’s got to be it. Hannah works in PR for a movie studio and I overheard Violet saying something about designing costumes for a movie...
The officiant introduces the happy couple and they march down the center aisle.
I bolt to standing, intending to barrel out to the side aisle and run as fast as my shaking legs will carry me. But, fuck my life, when I stand, everyone around me stands, too. Because, yeah, it’s a wedding—and this is the moment when they’re supposed to applaud the newly married couple. Fuck! I clap, along with everyone else, just so I don’t look like a serial killer. And, finally, Henn and Hannah pass by, followed by Reed and Maddy, and then Josh and Kat, and Jonas and Sarah.
Hyperventilating, I tap Colby’s shoulder to let me pass and then stumble over his feet when he doesn’t react fast enough. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I say as I trip over my family members’ feet down the row.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Ryan barks behind me.
But Captain Morgan can kiss my ass.
Violet.
I’m a horse running for the barn now. Charging toward Violet, weaving through people who are converging to hug and talk... but, no, no, no, she’s striding away from me, heading down the center aisle, on her way to say hello to the bride and groom. My chest heaving, I loop through the area where the ceremony just happened and begin loping down the center aisle behind Violet... and then stop dead in my tracks.
No.
She’s reached her destination. And it’s not Henn and Hannah. It’s Reed. A fact that just became clear when Violet reached Reed and he immediately slid his arm affectionately around her shoulders, like he’s done it a thousand times. Like she’s his. He pulls her close. And my heart explodes with jealousy. Violet is dating goddamned motherfucking Reed Rivers? No wonder she didn’t want to tell C-Bomb the name of the guy she’s seeing. It’s yet another catastrophe.
I stare like a sniper, adrenaline, jealousy, outrage coursing through my veins. Violet’s wearing a sultry gown tonight—a sleek silver number with a low-cut back that flatters her curves. Did she wear that sexy gown especially for Reed tonight? Did he buy it for her? Is he planning to peel it off her later tonight?
Mere hours ago, I laughed at Ryan for holding a grudge against Reed—for being pissed at him for hitting on Ryan’s wife before she was even Ryan’s girlfriend. But now, I get it. Oh, God, I get it. Because all of a sudden, I want to rip Reed Rivers limb from limb, my record deal be damned, for touching the woman who’s mine, mine, mine—even if she doesn’t know it yet.
I watch Reed lean into Violet’s ear to whisper. She nods and holds his gaze with an adorable, sexy smile. And that’s when I see it. Mutual affection. Holy fuck! Violet’s not simply Reed’s sexy plaything, and Reed’s not simply the rich, powerful guy who’s showing Violet a good time. They actually like each other. Maybe even... No. I can’t believe it. Although, there’s no denying, just this fast, I’m seeing something on that cold-hearted bastard’s face I’ve never seen before, not in all the times I’ve seen him with a woman on his arm.
I begin moving slowly forward, drawn to my own decimation like a moth to flame. My brain is telling me to turn around and save myself. It’s telling me I’m the Titanic and Violet is the iceberg. It’s telling me to think of Colin and Fish and Caleb. To remember this is a losing proposition for me. A terrible idea. But I can’t stop myself. I need to see if she clutches Reed tighter when she sees me... or jerks away from him.
Just as I close in on Reed and Violet from behind, a photographer approaches their group and says she’s ready to photograph the wedding party now.
Reed gives Violet’s shoulders a little squeeze. “You wanna come with, or...?”
“No, no, I’ll grab a drink and listen to the band,” she says.
“I’ll introduce you around when I’m done.”
“Should be about thirty minutes,” the photographer says.
“I can’t wait for everyone to meet you, baby,” Reed says as he leaves.
“Sounds good. I’m excited.”
The sec
ond Reed is gone, I lurch toward Violet and touch her shoulder. “Violet.”
Startled, she turns around... and gasps at the sight of me like I just popped out from behind a tree. “Dax,” she says, clutching her heart. “What are you doing here?”
My pulse throbbing in my ears, I manage to say, “The bride and groom are family friends. My whole family is here. You’re dating Reed fucking Rivers?”
She looks over her shoulder, her eyes flashing with panic. “We can’t talk here. Follow me and stay five paces behind.”
Chapter 28
Violet
My heartbeat raging in my ears, I stride past the table rounds set up for dinner, past a jazz trio playing for cocktail hour, and a bow-tied bartender. I pass a three-tiered wedding cake with a plastic bride and groom on top, and a waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes. I turn on wobbly legs into a short hallway, feeling like I’m about to hyperventilate, pass a bathroom, and then the spare room where Reed’s live-in housekeeper, Amalia, stays during the week, and, finally, hurl myself into a laundry room. If, by some slim chance, Reed comes looking for me after the photo shoot with the bridal party, I’ve got to think his laundry room will be the last place he’d look.
Dax enters the small room on my heels—so much for keeping five paces behind me—and shuts the door as I whirl around.
“You can’t date Reed Rivers!” he shouts the moment the door is closed. “He’s a player, Violet. A dog. I don’t know what he said or did to dupe you into looking at him like he’s some knight in shining armor, how many private planes he’s flown you on, but—”
“You think I’m a gold digger?” I roar, instantly livid. “You think I’m dating Reed for his money or lifestyle?”
Dax blanches. “That came out wrong. I just meant he’s not the guy you think he is, not when it comes to women, and I’m not gonna stand here and let you—”
“You’re not gonna let me? Excuse me, but one night of fucking me eight months ago—”
“Okay, let’s rewind.”
“—doesn’t give you the right to tell me—”
“Can we rewind, please?”
“—who I can and can’t date, especially when we both know, thanks to the goddamned internet—”
“Don’t believe everything you see on the internet.”
“—you partied like a rockstar during the entire tour.”
“Not the entire tour. And not nearly as much as it appeared.”
“But I didn’t hold it against you! You were single and the entire world’s fantasy-boyfriend! But don’t you dare think you can party your ass off for all of Instagram and TMZ to see and then come back here and tell me I’m not allowed to date Reed or anyone else during the same time. I’ve been single, too, Dax! Have I not been allowed to date because I’m a woman? Or because I’m not a rockstar?”
“Violet, forget all that. No matter what photos you saw, I never stopped thinking about you during the tour. Pretty much everything I’ve done, I’ve just been trying to forget you. To survive.”
“Well, maybe I’ve just been trying to survive, too.”
His chest heaves at my admission. He swallows hard. “Violet, I’m not slut-shaming you, okay? I’m the last guy in the world who’d do that. What I’m saying is I can’t stand seeing you with Reed or anyone else, because...” He takes a step forward, his eyes blazing. Sex is wafting off him. “Because I want you for myself.” He takes another step forward. “I can’t stand the thought of another man’s hands on you, Violet. Because I’m jealous.”
My breathing is shallow. My head is spinning with desire. Every molecule of my body wants to touch him. Kiss him. Rip his clothes off and invite him inside me.
He takes another step, closing the gap between us. “Do you love him?” he whispers.
I pause. “Yes.”
Dax freezes. Shock. Pain. Anguish. Regret. All of it flickers across Dax’s gorgeous face in the blink of an eye. And I’m not gonna lie, I’m feeling immense pleasure at the sight of all of it. But I’ve had my fun. I’m not a sadist. Time to straighten the poor boy out.
“Yes, I love Reed. Because he’s my brother.”
Dax’s jaw hangs open.
“I’ve told you the whole story. Reed and I have the same shitty-ass father.”
Dax closes his eyes and lets out a long exhale... and when he opens his eyes again, a switch has flipped inside him. In a blur of desire and need, he pitches forward, wraps me in his arms, and crushes his soft lips against mine. And even though my brain knows Reed being my brother, rather than my lover, doesn’t clear the way for us—that, in fact, the smart thing for Dax to do would be to stay far away from me—my body in this moment doesn’t care about pesky things like caution or consequences. All my body cares about is the white-hot desire wracking my every nerve ending and pooling almost painfully between my legs.
Even though I know I shouldn’t, I surrender to Dax—to desire—throwing my arms around his neck and returning his passionate kiss with everything I’ve got. Our tongues tangle and dance. Our lips devour and consume. His body shuddering, Dax backs me up and pins me against the washing machine. With a deep groan, his every breath relaying his desperation, he grinds his hard bulge against me, right into my bull’s-eye, and kisses me with a passion I’ve never experienced before. I’m oxygen and he’s a drowning man. I’m a lifeline thrown to a sailor swept into stormy seas. I’m the very blood coursing through this boy’s hot veins.
Oh, God, I’m enraptured, utterly enthralled. Feeling like I’ve been on life support for eight months, and suddenly springing to full health. I thought I remembered what it felt like to kiss this beautiful boy, but I was wrong. The pleasure I’m feeling, the riot of emotion and arousal and need flashing across my heart and soul and nerve endings and skin and nipples and clit... all of it is so much more than fireflies in my belly. It’s an electrical storm—an explosion of heat and lightning, of lust and sense memory and hope, enough to power a sky full of stars and send my aching heart beating fully, joyfully, once again.
As we kiss, passion consumes us like a pyre. There’s no turning back now. Frantically, Dax hikes up my dress, yanks down my panties, and slides his fingers inside me, making me moan and gyrate against his hand. With his free hand, he unzips his pants and pulls them down slightly, along with his briefs, enough to free his hard cock. His chest rising and falling sharply like he’s running a marathon, he pulls a condom out of his pants and gets himself covered. And with his dick straining between us, he slides his wet fingers to a new spot deep inside me—that same, deep spot he stroked during our night together, the spot that gave me orgasm after orgasm, each one better than the last. I tilt my head back and moan and shudder and hump his hand, awaiting the tsunami that’s surely going to crash into me.
When I come, it’s hard and full of emotion and relief. I come so hard, in fact, with such force and greed, I gyrate against the washing machine like I’m having a seizure.
As I moan and shake, Dax twists the dial on the washer and pounds his fist against the buttons—and, two seconds later, just as the machine begins vibrating deliciously against my bare ass, Dax plunges himself inside me.
We both growl and moan at the sensation of him filling me and the washing machine vibrating against me. Did it feel this good before to have Dax inside me? Because having this man filling me up feels like something supernatural. No, it feels like fate. Destiny. Like the entire universe is sighing with relief at his penetration, not just me.
Dax presses his lips against mine and grabs my breast and begins fucking me against the vibrating washer like a beast. And I’m instantly transported to the brink. I’m a rubber band about to snap. A heart about to burst. I grab at Dax’s shoulders and neck and hair. I claw at him, clutch him, feeling like I’m rocketing toward some sort of pleasure-induced delirium. Pure ecstasy. Wanton addiction.
Dax growls out my name, and, a moment later, my innermost muscles begin squeezing and rippling fiercely, which immediately pushes Dax into
a release of his own.
When our bodies come down, Dax kisses me slowly, his breathing ragged. He rests his forehead against mine and sighs. “Even better than I remembered.”
I’m shaking. Overwhelmed. These intense feelings I’m having make no sense, given the timeline of things. “That song,” I whisper hoarsely, my heart beating wildly. “It was incredible, Dax.”
He smiles. “You liked it?”
“I loved it.”
“I was hoping it would turn you on, but... wow. I should sing you songs more often.”
I smile. “Please do.”
With a sigh, he pulls out of me and peels off his condom.
I bend down to pick up my undies, my body trembling, and when I straighten up, Dax surprises me by grabbing them out of my hand and sliding them into his pocket.
With a wicked smile, he says, “I stole a pillowcase you’d slept on and brought it around the world with me, but your scent wore off months ago.”
I stare at him for a beat, not sure if he’s serious. “You took the pillowcase I used from the hotel?”
He smiles and nods.
My heart leaps. “And you’ve been... sniffing it all this time?”
“Every night. Scent is a big thing for me. It really turns me on. And yours turns me on like nothing else. Your hair smells like flowers. Like violets.” With that, he reaches behind me, unzips my dress, and pulls it down until it’s crumpled on the ground around my feet. His eyes on mine, he lifts me up and places my bare ass onto the vibrating washing machine. And then, without hesitation, he grips my hips and pulls me into his waiting face.
For a long moment, Dax nuzzles me with his nose, pointedly inhaling like he’s enjoying a bouquet of flowers, and when he’s got me physically shivering with anticipation and arousal, he begins licking and sucking at my folds while fingering me... until, finally, going in for the kill. As he swirls his tongue against my clit and strokes my G-spot, I rapidly lose my mind. I place the soles of my feet onto the washing machine and spread my legs wide, offering him every inch of me, and he accepts my invitation without hesitation. As the washing machine moves underneath me, Dax works me with enthusiasm. I grip his long hair, feeling like a wild animal in heat, until, finally, a powerful orgasm slams into me—an orgasm of such intensity, it brings tears to my eyes.