by Lavinia Kent
His mouth went dry. “Shit.” He looked down at her legs. “And you’re not wearing pantyhose.”
“I almost never do—and when I have to, it’s stockings.”
His hands clasped her ass, pressing her against his sudden erection.
She wiggled a bit. “I did warn you that the dress is impossible to get into and out of quickly though. There’s no way that—”
“I don’t need to get you out of it. We can shimmy the skirt up a bit.”
“Good luck with that—and I’m not sure I like that you know to consider it, or that you’re familiar with empty coatrooms.”
“I will plead the fifth on both of those.” He pulled gently at her skirt. Then not so gently. It barely moved.
She moved onto her toes, stretching toward him. Her mouth reaching for his.
He always had been one to oblige a lady.
Their lips met. She tasted of the deep red wine from dinner. It was even better on her than it had been in the glass. Delicious.
Her mouth opened beneath his, inviting him in. He pressed his lips harder to hers, using his hands to lift her. Her knees parted slightly, but it would have been impossible for her to wrap her legs about him. “I’m starting to hate your dress,” he murmured, his tongue darting in and out.
She moaned softly.
The kiss went on—and on.
Her soft belly was cradling the places that most needed to be cradled, only…“Shit, if we don’t stop this I’ll never be able to go back to the party. You’ll leave me in a most unbecoming state, Miss Anderson.”
She giggled into his mouth, although her words still held the slightest edge of nerves. “Maybe we just don’t go back.”
“And miss the speeches and the cake cutting?”
“Why not?”
“You know you don’t mean that.” If her father did say something, she’d never forgive herself if she missed it.
“Maybe I do. They probably still haven’t noticed that we’re gone.”
From what he’d seen, it was possible that was true, but all the same…“You know you’ll feel guilty—and I know you don’t want to miss any announcement that your father might make.”
She stilled for a moment, and then the kiss became frantic.
Fuck. He was going to have to sneak outside to walk for a bit. He longed for the days of pleated loose pants.
But then she was pulling her lips away, sliding down his body. He released her as she moved—and then realized exactly where she was heading, what she was intending.
“Veronica—”
“We were just discussing that we’d never done this.”
“You don’t have to—”
“But I want to.” Her hands settled about his belt buckle.
He should have protested. He really should have. He hadn’t intended more than a few deep kisses when he towed her in here. But…
The belt came undone. And then his fly.
“Woo-hoo. I’m not the only one going commando.”
And then her tongue tickled the tip of his dick.
Wow. Fuck. Wow. That was about the extent of his thoughts as he leaned back against the wall. Her tongue circled and played. Her lips touched him, but did not take him in.
He needed more. More. More. Wow. Fuck. Wow.
He reached down, his hands moving into her deep curls.
She pulled back abruptly. “I may have joked about sex hair, but I’m not going back in there with blow job hair. Keep your hands to yourself.” And then her lips were back.
He curled his hands into fists, fighting to keep them by his sides.
Her lips circled the very tip, sucking lightly.
She traced a couple of fingers down the vein that ran along the bottom of his dick.
She cupped his balls.
He banged his head against the wall. Fuck. Wow. Fuck.
She took him deeper.
He was going to die. Here and now.
He bit down on his lip.
And deeper and deeper. Her tongue was rubbing along that vein now.
“Do you see anybody in there, Phyllis? I need to get my reading glasses out of my coat pocket,” a shaking voice spoke from the hall.
They both froze.
Another voice answered, “I don’t see anyone. You know how hard it is to find someone during a party. That girl, Janie, is never here when you need her. I’ve spoken to the manager several times.”
“Janie, are you in there?” the first voice asked.
And then Veronica began to move.
She really was going to kill him. Deeper. Deeper. Deeper.
Wow. Wow. Wow.
He felt his balls draw up, his legs began to tense.
“I thought I saw something move, Phyllis. Janie. Janie. Are you there?”
He bit down on his lip, hard. He needed to groan.
“I don’t see anyone. Are you sure?”
“Janie? Janie?”
Would they ever leave?
“You must have been wrong.”
God, he was going to come. Wow. Wow. Fuck.
“Let’s go find the manager. I’m sure he’s here. Or I bet one of the waiters could get your coat.”
He squeezed his eyes closed, bit down on his tongue. He was not going to come while listening to Phyllis. He was not. He was not.
He held his breath.
Veronica sucked deep. Her hands squeezed his balls.
“I don’t think they’re the regular waiters. They probably won’t—”
“Well, we have to find somebody. Come along.”
And he exploded.
He turned his head and pressed his face into somebody’s heavy fur coat. He held back the scream, but still was not quiet.
And Veronica kept working. And working.
And he came and came—until not one drop remained.
His whole body went limp. It was all he could do to stand.
Veronica half crawled toward the front of the small room and pulled a few tissues from a box. A moment later, he was cleaned, zipped and buckled. But still feeling unable to move.
“You really do have a bit of an exhibitionist streak in you,” he said.
“I’m not the one who chose a public coatroom—and this may not have been what you intended, but if it were possible to raise my skirt, I have a feeling we’d have been in an even worse position.”
He couldn’t deny that. “Now, why don’t we give your skirt another try? I do have awfully long fingers.” He wiggled his brows. “If I can remember my purpose in bringing you here, I believe it was to relieve your stress, not mine.”
She smiled at him and shook her head slightly. “I haven’t thought about anything but you for the past few minutes, and that’s all I need.”
“But…” He had been properly brought up and knew his duties.
“I mean it, although I can guarantee I’ll put those fingers of yours to use later. And I promise I’ll be thinking about that and not my father for the rest of the wedding. Now, if you don’t mind, why don’t we actually take a moment outside.”
He nodded. “That sounds like a sensible plan. Plus, it makes it less likely we’ll run into Phyllis and friend.”
They ducked out the front door and, avoiding the valet who stood off to the side smoking, walked around the edge of the building. He kept them to the paved path, mindful of Veronica’s heels. They didn’t speak much, but her hand had found its way back into his.
After a few moments, with a brief stop for her to fix her lipstick and pat her hair while he held her compact mirror, they headed back.
Brian couldn’t remember ever feeling less desire to enter a dining room. He would so much rather be heading home with plans to maneuver her out of that tight little dress. His thoughts were filled
with all the wonderful things he could do to her. He was in a mood to push her even further than he had on the dining room table. She’d be lucky if she could remember her own name when he was done with her.
They must have missed several of the speeches, because as they entered the room he saw her father standing at the front, mic in hand. Greg and Veronica stood at his side.
“And now for the announcement I’ve been hinting at. I’m so delighted by my dear daughter’s choice of husband that I’ve decided to give them the best wedding present I can think of. I’m going to step down at the firm and pass on controlling interest to my brand-new son-in-law, Mr. Greg Longhorn.”
* * *
—
It was amazing she didn’t pass out where she stood. No, that wasn’t quite right. It was more like the world had stopped. She remembered Brian talking about everything slowing down, and that was exactly how she felt. Looking across the room, she saw that Charlotte’s face was absolutely frozen. This had taken her by surprise every bit as much as it had Veronica. She could watch the color drain from her sister’s face inch by inch, watch as Charlotte turned her face to Greg.
He simply looked smug. This was no surprise to him. A grin was spread across his face from ear to ear. His eyes were turned to her dad, full of victory. He clearly had no idea how quickly his wife’s expression had changed from being full of love and excitement to a look bordering on despair.
Her father…Well, her father looked like her father, self-satisfied and sure of himself, clearly having no idea of the havoc he had just wrought.
I QUIT. I QUIT. I QUIT. She wanted to scream it across the room. She wanted to be sure that each and every person understood exactly how deep her father’s betrayal had gone, a betrayal that he clearly didn’t even know he had committed. It would have been one thing to make Charlotte her equal, but to put Greg before both of them…
Her father’s eyes roamed the room and passed over her with only the briefest little smile. They just passed over her. It clearly didn’t even occur to him that his words had impacted her, impacted her whole life.
I QUIT. I QUIT. I QUIT.
Still, she stayed quiet. She felt Brian’s hand squeeze hers. Taking half a step back, she leaned into him, not hard, but enough to feel his presence, to feel the safety he gave her.
She examined Charlotte as she sat there in her white gown, looking perfect, but her eyes were almost dead as she stared at her husband.
Veronica’s stomach soured. How could her father have done this to Charlotte? She’d been quite aware that he might screw her over, but both of them? Was the presence of a penis so important that he could overlook the harm he was doing to both his daughters?
She pulled in a breath. She didn’t know if it had been only seconds, or if several minutes had passed since she’d pulled in that last one. What did she do now?
I QUIT. I QUIT. I QUIT.
The urge was still strong to scream the words, to see what the reaction would be. Would her father even have one? Only the look on Charlotte’s face kept her quiet. This was her sister’s wedding and she would not ruin it—although Charlotte might already consider it ruined. She glanced about. The guests seemed remarkably clueless, and Veronica was not going to cause a commotion.
She was not.
She was not.
Brian squeezed her hand again.
She turned and looked up at him, at the steely glint in his eyes. He was clearly not clueless.
“Do you want to leave?” he whispered, bending down to her ear.
She did. She really did. “No. I want a chance to say goodbye to Charlotte.”
“Do you think she knew?”
“No, based on her expression I’m quite sure she didn’t. Greg did though. And I was just thinking how happy I was for them, that they truly seemed in love.”
“This doesn’t mean they’re not.”
“I know, but it will make things harder. I can’t believe Greg didn’t tell her.”
“He probably thought it would be a wonderful surprise.”
“Which only shows that he doesn’t really know her. Not the best way to start a marriage.”
Brian didn’t answer. There wasn’t anything to say.
A smiling Greg took the mic from her father and thanked all the guests for coming, then held out his hand to Charlotte and the band began to play. For the briefest of moments, Veronica thought her sister would refuse, but then, with a forced smile, Charlotte took Greg’s hand and the couple began to dance.
“Do you want to dance?” Brian asked.
It was awkward to continue to stand. She definitely didn’t want to return to their table, where she might be expected to comment on her father’s gift. “Sure.”
“Such enthusiasm.”
She let herself be pulled into his arms. “I’m sorry. I was looking forward to dancing with you. I thought it would be one of the highlights of the wedding. Although all things considered, it may be the highlight—well, other than…”
“I’m glad to have obliged, then.”
It wasn’t quite the slow number she would have wanted, but Brian was far lighter on his feet than she would have expected, and for a few moments she did her best to think of nothing but the music and the feel of Brian’s hard body when they touched—and just how soon she planned to touch him again.
* * *
—
He wanted to kill her father. Well, that was perhaps a small exaggeration, but not much. A few well-landed punches would certainly have felt good. Very good.
How could any man be so blind to the harm he was doing? Could he not at least have warned her—and Charlotte? He glanced over at the freshly married couple as they danced. Even without knowing them, he could see the tension there. They were definitely not gliding effortlessly about. Charlotte’s face was icy, and Brian was glad he wasn’t going to be part of that wedding night.
He looked down at the woman in his own arms. God, she was beautiful. Her eyes were filled with pain that she was doing her best to suppress. He squeezed her a little tighter. Her lips curved up slightly.
“You can talk to your sister, but then we’re getting out of here,” he said.
“Telling me what to do?” She tried to make her smile bigger, but he could see the strain.
“Yes. In this instance, yes.”
“Well, I won’t fight you, but I do need to talk to her first.”
“I understand.”
He led her around the floor, glad for the chance to hold her, glad for the dance lessons his mother had forced upon him.
Chapter 23
“Did you know?” Charlotte turned to her as they stepped onto the porch. The views were incredible, but neither one of them turned to look out at the sunset as the sun began to sink from view.
“Certainly not. I would have told you if I did.”
“Greg knew.”
“I got that feeling.”
“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me. He actually thought this would make me happy, that I’d be excited.” Charlotte’s eyes were filled with pain. “He thought it was a wonderful gift and told Dad that the wedding would be the perfect place to make the announcement. They both believed I’d be happy to know that Greg would give me all the security I ever wanted.”
“I can’t even imagine—”
“Well, you should be able to. They thought it would make you happy, too, knowing that you’d be working for someone in the family. They’ve been planning this for weeks, maybe even months. It’s why it was so important that everything went perfectly with Greg’s client. Dad wants to be able to tell the other partners just how good Greg is. And it’s why they made it so easy for me to take time off these last weeks—because it didn’t matter. I should have realized that was strange, but I was so busy trying to make everything be perfect. And then they go and do t
his—at my wedding.”
Hmm. Veronica knew it was cynical, but she couldn’t help wondering if Greg had actually expected that his bride might not be so delighted, and that announcing it at the wedding was a way to avoid an argument. Part of her wanted to tell her sister just that, to give her full honest opinion of the whole matter. But as she looked at Charlotte’s pain-filled face, all she said was, “Men can be slow. But I do think he loves you.”
Charlotte let out a very long breath. “I know. Isn’t it ridiculous? I want to kill him, but I don’t doubt that he truly loves me. Yet how do we get over this? He thinks that I’ll be happy to work for him. He doesn’t understand how much that changes things between us. I mean, I could deal with him being senior to me now, but I always knew that one day I’d catch up and we’d be more equal.”
Or even that you’d be the boss, but Veronica didn’t say that. There was no reason to make this worse than it was—and in some ways she felt closer to Charlotte in this moment than she ever had. “Perhaps he thinks that once Dad retires you can run things equally.” Which was one more reason she should quit. There was no way she was going to work for both of them.
“Not from what he said. He sounded way more like Dad than I ever imagined. He honestly thinks this will be good, that once we have kids I’ll want to be home more and be glad I don’t have to worry about running the firm.”
“That’s possible, isn’t it?” Who knew what her sister would feel like in a few years. Hell, her own beliefs about what she wanted in life had changed in the last few minutes.
“I don’t know, but it should be my choice, not something they decide for me. We haven’t even talked about what changes we’ll make when we have children.”
They hadn’t? Veronica resisted the urge to tell her sister she was an idiot. She and Brian weren’t even talking about a serious relationship yet and they’d sort of discussed children—only sort of—but that was a good step further than her now married sister seemed to have gone. “I’m sure you’ll work it out.”
“I’m not.” Charlotte actually stamped her foot. “Or at least, I’m sure we won’t work it out the way Dad wants us to—and evidently Greg does too. Just who does he think he married?”