What Happens at a Wedding: A Short Story Anthology

by Lucy Gage

  “Ah, the Wellingtons. Love fiercely, fight anyone who attempts to get in the way.”

  “You know, I hear you Covingtons can be the same way,” she said.

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  A gleam formed in her eye. “Did Ariana ever tell you about the time she bitch slapped Branson’s ex-wife?”

  My mouth dropped open. My sister, sweet, angelic Ariana slapping someone? It was unheard of. “No way.”

  She nodded. “And since Branson’s ex-wife was Knox’s high school sweetheart, it made Ariana and me friends for life.”

  I blinked twice, at a complete loss for words. I’d known a little bit of the history, but had no idea the webs in the family were intertwined. Ariana held out on me.

  And before I could ask for the whole juicy story, Knox crossed the room, swooped up his wife, and pretty much carried her out the same way Branson had done with my sister.

  Wellington beasts, indeed.

  Now, where was mine?

  Goosebumps tingled on the back of my neck as I felt him approach. I didn’t turn to face him. My neck, however, slightly tilted of its own accord.

  “You’re simply ravishing. I’ve never seen you more stunning.”

  The hedonic, low whispered words sent shivers down my spine. Shane’s breath, hot against my skin, sent waves of pleasure across the expanse of my neck. As if he’d noticed my movement. As if he’d known precisely what I wanted with one simple tilt of my neck.

  I closed my eyes, allowing myself two seconds of bliss, long enough for his scent to wash over me. Soap and spice. Masculine with pheromones clearly made for me. God, I’d forgotten how good he smelled. It took me back to that night on the beach. No wonder I threw my panties at him and practically ordered him to take me to bed. I had half a mind to do it again.

  Get a grip, girl, I told myself.

  Hoping my bitch face was in place, I performed a stiff about-face and nearly faltered when I saw deep blue eyes, heavy-lidded and mesmerizing, gazing into my own.

  Bitch face, bitch face, I reminded myself.

  “Considering you’ve seen me all of four times, that’s not saying much. Especially since one of those times I was naked. I’m not sure whether I should be insulted or not,” I quipped.

  His eyes flared with the heat of remembrance. That heat shot through my veins and pooled low between my thighs.

  He quickly recovered. With a lowered voice, he caught my gaze. “Hm. Perhaps you’d like to give me another look.”

  Thwack!

  And suddenly, I was saved by Grandma Kate. Thank goodness.

  “Shane, you leave that poor girl alone and stop lollygagging.”

  She peered over her glasses at me, and her expression became thoughtful. “Better yet, escort her to dinner. The first course is about to begin.”

  Shane held out his arm. “Who am I to disrespect my elders?”

  Heat sizzled the moment my fingertips looped around his bicep. He flexed, I laughed and rolled my eyes. Butterflies danced in my belly when he grinned down at me. “See, sunshine, I’m not so bad, am I?”

  “That’s yet to be determined, Wellington.”

  My eyes narrowed as Shane led me to my seat, held it out for me, then promptly sat beside me. He caught my reaction and grinned.

  “How fortunate am I that your beautiful sister decided to seat us right next to each other?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with teasing delight.

  I groaned. Drat! I’d completely forgotten that, weeks ago, I’d told Ariana Shane was going to act as my date for the wedding. She’d kept bugging and bugging me about bringing someone, so it had just slipped out. I’d figured with us both in the wedding parties it wouldn’t have mattered.

  “Lucky, indeed,” I muttered, taking a sip of my champagne and using the moment to study him up close.

  “Your hair is darker,” I blurted, my face flushing that he caught me staring at him.

  His answering grin sent heat straight between my legs. “Summer sun’s faded away, sunshine.”

  “Too many long hours spent in the office? I don’t believe that. It’s the middle of winter, and you still have a nice tan.”

  He leaned over, his lips just above my ear. “Let’s just say last spring I lost a bet with Branson and I had to go blond for the summer. This is my natural color.”

  “I wouldn’t say you lost.”

  The words were out before I could stop them. A theme around whenever I was him, apparently.

  His mouth curled up on one side. “So you’re saying I looked good blond?”

  “Well, I did sleep with you, didn’t I?”

  God, I couldn’t believe I was so brazen, especially in public where any one of our family members could overhear. Sure, we were whispering, but I wouldn’t have put it up to Grandma Kate to have a hearing aid aimed in our direction.

  “Wanna see how the brown hair works out? You know, all in the name of research.”

  YES!

  Instead, I rolled my eyes.

  He laughed and dropped the subject. “So, tell me, Alyssa, tell me about you.”

  It was then I noticed others were staring at us and realized he’d raised his voice to appropriate conversation level. Appreciative, I played along. “Born and raised in Atlanta. Undergrad at the University of Georgia where I also received my MBA from the Terry College of Business. I started in the accounting department of Wellsley-Callahan about four months ago.”

  “Impressive. I’ve run into Callahan—the younger—a couple of times. Nice guy. Ambitious. And with a smokin’ hot fiancée.”

  I smiled. “Sawyer—Mr. Callahan—and Cheyenne are great. So far I’ve loved working for the company.”

  And that’s how dinner went on.

  For some reason, even with twenty other people around us, I felt like we were on our first date.

  For that same reason, I was thrilled beyond measure.

  After our initial interaction, dinner passed uneventfully. While Alyssa did her best to keep our conversation at small talk, discussing work, the wedding, and how Ariana was always the good girl growing up, she didn’t flinch when my hand went beneath the table to rest on her thigh. A bold move, probably, but I considered it a victory when she didn’t push me away. A small one, but a victory none the less.

  Through dessert, champagne, and approximately seventy-six kissing breaks for the happy couple, my hand didn’t move. And not once did Alyssa look at me. Eventually, a middle-aged woman in a neat suit invited the family to take a tour of the plantation, at their own leisure.

  Fortunately for me, everyone else was paired up and more than happy to peruse the massive estate in all its holiday glory. Instead of getting lost in the halls by myself, I followed Alyssa out the front door.

  We lingered on the porch of the plantation, taking in the twinkling Christmas lights. Well, she was taking in the sight. My eyes were fixated on her. If only someone had had the forethought to place mistletoe here.

  “We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you,” she whispered. Her eyes met mine. “How did you get my number anyway?”

  I chuckled at the memory. A couple of months ago, when Branson had his head up his ass, he’d sent Ariana packing over a miscommunication of epic proportions. Ariana, who’d recently left a man—a shitbag whom I had the misfortune to know—at the altar. She hadn’t told Branson, so when his ex-wife showed up with the ex-fiancé, chaos ensued.

  After days of not being able to get ahold of him, I’d texted Alyssa, asking her what the hell happened. She spilled, told me the truth about both Ariana’s broken engagement and current whereabouts, even though I’d known at least half the story. When I found Branson seven sheets to the wind, I corrected his assumptions and as soon as he sobered up, he went after her.

  And here we were, on the eve of their wedding.

  I admit, I had my reservations about Ariana at first, but I know they’re the real deal.

  “I may hav
e asked Ariana for it so we could talk about a joint bachelor/bachelorette party,” I admitted.

  Her nose wrinkled. “But we didn’t have one?”

  “Oh, I know. They both said they had no desire to have a party, especially with Ariana still experiencing morning sickness in the evenings.”

  A perfectly manicured brow arched. “And yet she gave you my number anyway?”

  I grinned like a Chesire. “I can be quite charming when I want to be.”

  That earned me a snort and an eye roll before a warm smile crossed her lips. “Anyways, thank you, Shane. For reaching out, helping them get back together. “

  “Sunshine, I’m touched. I feel like we’re having a moment.”

  And then, when she pretended to glare at me, with flushed cheeks and desire in her eyes, I knew, I just knew, I still had a chance.

  As I laid on my back staring up at the ceiling in the dark, I grew increasingly frustrated. Aunt Amelia, like a strict camp counselor, had placed the men and women of the wedding party in separate wings of the Wellington mansion. They were a family of five. Why the hell did they even need an estate? To that day, I’d never cursed my family’s wealth. That night? I swore it all to hell.

  Hoping my stealth skills from sneaking out of my window as a horny teenaged boy were still intact, I tip-toed down the hall, my heart hammering as I inched closer to the room Charlie may have not so coyly told me where Alyssa was sleeping. Amusement had twinkled in her eyes when she “let it slip.”

  That’s when I knew the truth. Knox Wellington’s wife was a saint. Hell, if I’d been born British and had the power, I’d knight the woman.

  “Where, pray tell, are you headed?”

  Caught like a deer in the headlights, I turned to see Branson leaning against the wall, arms folded, watching me with amusement.

  His hair was mussed, his clothes wrinkled, and for a guy about to marry for the second time in his life, his shoulders were surprisingly relaxed. A knowing grin crossed his lips, and when I realized he was coming from the direction of the woman’s quarters, I chuckled.

  “I imagine it’s from whence you just came.”

  “Whence? Really, Shane?”

  I shrugged. “Had Britain on the brain. Not that I case, but isn’t it bad luck to be with your wife on the eve of your wedding?”

  “Wife. God, I like the sound of that. No, I love the sound of that.”

  The awestruck expression on Branson's face was something I never thought I'd see. But damn if he wasn't all goofy-eyed and grinning over the woman who brought him to his knees and made him put a ring on it.

  "Christ, I'm not sure who's worse. You or Knox."

  Branson barked out a laugh. "Me. Definitely me." He paused to look at me, then asked, “You know what you’re doing?”

  I ran a hand through my already messed up hair. “Fuck if I know.”

  He laughed, then sobered and gave me a pointed look. “As her soon to be brother-in-law, I suppose it’s my duty to tell you if you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

  I scoffed. “Buddy, the only one you have to worry about getting hurt is me. That girl could do damage, but I can’t seem to stay away.”

  His lips twitched, and he gave me a chin lift. “I know the sentiment all too well. See you in the morning.”

  I gave him a nod and continued creeping down the hall, just waiting for Aunt Amelia to catch me. A sigh of relief escaped me when, with quiet ease, I opened Alyssa's door, slipped in, and closed it with just a slight sound of it latching. I was in.

  Mission accomplished.

  And then, out of nowhere, a pillow bounced off the side of my head.

  “What the hell?” I cursed, a little too loudly.

  “What the hell, Shane?”

  Alyssa stood before me, arms folded and glaring.

  “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

  I could’ve explained with words, but where’s the fun in that?

  Three determined strides were all it took for me to wrap my arm around her waist, my other hand cupping her cheek, and my lips capturing hers with hungry urgency.

  For a moment she tried to protest, but the second I felt her melt into my kiss, my heart—and my cock—silently cheered. I’d missed this these past few months.

  I’d missed her.

  She pulled away, once again, her eyes gazing up at mine, but I wasn’t letting her go. Not this time.

  “We can’t do this,” she gasped between kisses. Kisses she wasn’t trying to stop. “I won’t do this. Not again.”

  It was my turn to pull away. At the same time, my hand palmed her supple breast, and she moaned in pleasure. “Oh, sunshine, it shouldn’t be so adorable when you lie.”

  She growled. Growled. Fuck, it was hot. Her hips rolled up to meet my cock, and I nearly came on the spot.

  Fuck foreplay. It was early. We had plenty of time to go slow later. Right now, I needed to be inside her.

  And then it hit me.

  “Fuck. Fuck!”

  “Isn’t that what you’re trying to do here?” she asked, a coy smile crossing her beautifully swollen lips.

  “I don’t have a condom.”

  God dammit. My head hit the pillow beside her, and I groaned into it.

  The first—and last—time Alyssa and I fucked, condoms weren’t even part of the conversation. Nor was birth control. We’d been too desperate for each other to even consider it. Which, in hindsight, was pretty fucking irresponsible for two strangers. Not that I regretted it for a single second. The idea of her pregnant with my kid? Should’ve terrified me. Instead, I found I wanted that with her.

  Fuck me. This wedding, Branson’s impending fatherhood, was really getting to me.

  Her hips once again rose up, and she slid herself along my length.

  I lifted. “That’s not helping.”

  “Oh,” was all she said. Then, her smile turned mischievous. “Well, I guess you’re lucky I came prepared.”

  I jumped off the bed before she could even get the words out. “Where?” I asked, desperate to be inside her.

  “In my purse.”

  I glanced around the room frantically, running across to the dresser like a madman. With unceremonious desperation, I dumped the entire bag over and held it up like the most precious prize ever found. Alyssa giggled while I made quick work of sheathing my cock.

  And then, I pounced.

  Her legs immediately wrapped around my waist. My cock found her entrance with expert precision, like a rocket meeting its intended target. The result would be the same. An explosion of epic proportions like the world’s never seen. My lips crashed down on hers, my tongue slipped between her parted lips. We kissed with desperate longing, and I realized she’d missed this as much as I had.

  At that moment, an intense desire to be inside her washed over me. I pulled back, my eyes gazing down at the gorgeous girl beneath me. Her dark chocolate hair was fanned out on the pillow, framing her face. The moonlight allowed me to see the flush on her cheeks, and masculine pride swelled, that I’d caused it.

  “Shane,” she panted, her legs trying to pull me closer with feverish desperation. “No foreplay. I need you. I need this. There’s been no one since you. And it’s been far too long.”

  The admission was a victory that had me ready to give in, but I needed to know something first.

  “Sunshine, tell me. Why’d you leave?”

  She blinked, her eyes unfocused. “You want to talk about this now?”

  “I need to know why. So you won’t do it again,” I informed her.

  Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips as she stalled. Her eyes clouded over and I couldn’t miss the hesitation etched on her features.

  I had no idea how I kept stock still, the tip of my cock enveloped in the warmth of her entrance begging for more.

  “I was scared,” she finally admitted, her eyes not quite meeting mine.

  My palm cupped her chin. “Sca
red of what?”

  Finally, I caught her eyes again. “Of you. Us. The intensity of what I’d felt for you so quickly, a stranger. It wasn’t just sex to me, Shane. What happened that night was powerful. And it terrified me.”

  I reclaimed her mouth in a long, drugging kiss. She was intoxicating, and I couldn’t wait any longer. With one agonizingly slow push, I sank into the hot, sweet pleasure that was Alyssa’s pussy.

  Fuck me. She was more incredible than I remembered.

  I took both of her hands in my own, entwining our fingers and placing her arms over her head. Little space separated her lips from mine, our breaths mingling, our bodies connected in the most intimate way.

  “Look at me.”

  Her eyes fluttered open and I lost myself in them. “Christ, I’ve missed you.”

  “Fuck me, Shane.”

  It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but fuck if it didn’t make me oblige.

  Soft kisses and slow thrusts turned frantic, wanton, and as Alyssa and I came together, she squeezed my fingers, gazed up into my eyes, and said the four sweetest words I’d ever heard.

  “I’ve missed you, too.”

  “I can’t believe I’m getting married,” she whispered, staring at her reflection in the floor length mirror.

  Ariana made the most stunning bride I’d ever seen. Her dress was elegant, white lace that flared out into an A-line at her tiny waist. Her visible bump only added to her beauty. As did her natural pregnancy glow. Ariana had never looked happier, and my heart swelled with my own happiness for her.

  Tears threatened, so as not to ruin my makeup, I teased her. “I can’t believe you managed to plan two weddings in the same year.”

  She turned, her smile soft. My sister placed her hands on her belly. “And make a baby.”

  I laughed as I wrapped my arms around her. “I’m so happy for you, Ari. Branson is truly your soul mate, and I’m so glad you found each other.”

  She hugged me back, then swiped at her eyes. “Pregnancy hormones are bad enough without you being sweet and making me cry.”