by Regina Wade
As much as I want to keep Brash at a distance, keep myself away from him, I can’t seem to. He’s under my skin.
Here he is in the middle of his hectic schedule, pulling strings left and right. Making sure everything falls into place so that my brother and his fiance can have the wedding of their dreams without even having to work at it. All while still rehearsing and working at his own tour.
Just the thought of Brash’s strong muscles under my fingers yesterday is enough to make my body tingle beneath the cool morning rain.
He’s beautiful. Strong in a way that makes the years between us melt away. I hate how much my body responds to his proximity.
“Good morning, doll.” Brash’s gravel over ice voice fills the rehearsal space the moment I walk in. “Nice to see both of you so early in the morning.”
His voice is seemingly everywhere. Connected to the audio system, the sexy sound of his deep rasp is almost unbearable. It penetrates my entire body, reverberating through my chest and along my skin. Long before I met him in person, I responded to Brash Knight’s voice.
It takes a moment for his words to kick in. By the time I realize what he said and look down at the notebook in my hands, he’s already switched off the mic where it attaches at the back of his pants, wandering over to talk to me. Even with the clouds outside blotting out the sun streaming in through the window, his eyes are the two brightest spots of blue I’ve ever seen.
“I already talked to my assistant. They’re ready to send over a check for the food and—”
“Brash,” I cut in before I lose my nerve. “I know The Ned is gorgeous. I just think the small chapel is really romantic. Maybe you could come take a look at it one more time?”
His black brows knit together, a crease appearing between them as Brash glares down at me.
“Beth, I think maybe you’re starting to overthink the small things a bit. Weddings are supposed to be fun, you know?”
“Small things?” It’s my turn to glare. Every time I promise myself I won’t let him get under my skin, Brash manages to find a way to set my blood aflame. “This is the venue, Knight. You know, the place where the wedding happens? It’s literally the most important day of Rori’s life!” I throw my hands up in frustration.
“It’s your brother’s wedding too, love,” he says with a sigh. “Shouldn’t he get to enjoy it?”
It annoys me that I already thought the same damn thing.
“Brash?” A man walks up to us, clearly hesitant to interrupt. He’s twirling a drumstick between his fingers almost absently. It’s mesmerizing to watch the way it makes the tattoos on his forearm flex and dance. “Were we gonna run through the new song, mate? I don’t mean to—”
“No, it’s fine, Alfie.” Brash looks from his drummer to me. “I need to finish rehearsal. Why don’t you come by tonight? We’ll order takeaway, and hash out all the decisions. Finalize everything for the wedding. I promise we won’t leave until you and the binder are happy.”
The corner of his mouth turns up in a half-smile. Such a simple thing, but it sends a shiver of desire thrilling down my spine. It only annoys me even more, especially when I see the spark of mischief in his blue eyes.
“Ok,” I relent after a minute. “But only if you promise to actually take things seriously.”
Brash leans in close. Close enough for me to feel the whisper of his breath against my lips. My pulse ticks up, races off without me in my throat. The room tilts, threatens to spin as his warm hand slides in under my hair to cup the back of my neck. This close to him, I can smell the rain, the tea he had with breakfast. The underlying scent of electricity and pure, unfettered sex that’s all Brash. Beneath the harsh white lights, the rich colors of his tattoo sleeve look turned up to eleven.
“Beth,” his lips brush mine when he speaks. Just the slightest hint of contact, warm breath caressing my own. “I’m already serious about you. You’re the only thing I think about.”
My hands come up, looking for purchase. My fingers scrabble to grab his tee, pull him down harder onto my mouth. But Brash is already gone. He’s back with his band, taking his place in front of the mic stand.
I don’t know how long I stand there, listening to his new song with my notebook sprawled at my feet. Brash’s voice is orgasmic, rolling over me. The words are sensual, the drumline a heartbeat.
The eye contact he maintains with me throughout is nothing short of foreplay.
Chapter 4
Brash
Other girls may try to take me away. But you know it’s by your side I’ll stay. — Dave Clark Five, ‘Glad All Over’
“It’s quaint.”
I pour another hefty slug of scotch for myself before heading back into the main room of my penthouse where Beth has set up camp. Not only did she bring her faithful notebook, but she’s armed with entire excel spreadsheets and, god and the queen help me, a Powerpoint presentation.
She looks positively adorable spread out on the fifty-thousand dollar Persian rug, Chinese food and Pinterest printouts laid out all around her.
“Who cares about all that, love?” I lean down and snag an egg roll from her tray. The way she slaps at my hand makes me want to order in every night for the rest of our lives. “The whole point is to party, inn’it? You can’t even dance in that tiny little space.”
We’ve been at it for hours now, any hopes of making it an early night long since forgotten amongst Beth’s scraps of ribbon and lace. I don’t mind one bit, either. I’ve learned more about Beth than I thought I would, the details of her complicated life unraveling over the course of the night like a tapestry at my feet.
“Honestly, Brash Knight you are impossible.” Her eyes are green daggers in the darkness of the London night sky pouring in from the glass all around us. “How can you write such romantic songs and still be so dense about romance? Love is about compromise. Do you think my brother would be happy getting married in the party palace knowing Rori’s ideal wedding was something simple and elegant?”
It’s hard not to be moved by Beth’s passion. I’ve never met someone like her before; so completely dedicated to making someone else happy. Beth’s single-minded dedication to Rori’s perfect wedding is sweet and admirable.
It strikes me, then. I know exactly what she means. I would do absolutely anything to give Beth the wedding of her dreams. Spend every penny I have ensuring she gets to see every one of her dreams come true for the rest of her life.
I’ve told her more about myself than I’ve ever told anyone. My childhood, the genuine struggles with stardom and success. I’ve never had anyone listen the way Beth listens. Not to jump in and try and fix things, but simply to be a comforting ear.
The look of indignant determination on her face reminds me of someone else, too.
Though admittedly Beth moves me in far different ways than my best friend does, there’s no denying the similarities. The Bakers clearly both have a stubborn streak a mile wide.
“You’re a lot like your brother, you know.” I lower myself onto the rug next to Beth, settling down on top of the pile of wedding pictures. “He was willing to risk his job, his whole future for Rori.”
She beams a smile at me. Something shines behind her eyes, as if comparing Beth to her big brother is one of the biggest compliments I can offer her.
Well, I meant it that way.
“She’s the best friend I could ever have. Reed and Rori stuck by me, even when I was an idiot in high school. Managed to get myself in trouble.” She waves her hand dismissively, but I can tell there’s a story there.
It strikes me then, how much I want to hear about it. All of it. I’ve never been one for forever before. Sure, I can write a mean love ballad but when it comes to the real thing I was pretty sure it had pretty much passed me by at this point. There are worse things to be in life than a confirmed bachelor.
But Beth makes forever sound like the sweetest song I’ve ever heard. One look at the sweet curve of her upturned face and I know I don’t
ever want anyone else by my side. Brick by brick, she’s letting down the walls between us— and I want to be there to see all of her when she reveals herself to me.
Beth leans in and takes a hesitant sniff of the glass in my hand.
“Lagavulin,” I offer her the tumbler. “Want some?”
She considers for a moment before shrugging one shoulder and nabbing the glass. I wonder if the hefty sip is revenge for the stolen egg roll and smile to myself.
“It’s a lot better than the Cuervo Rori and I used to sneak into my parents’ basement during parties,” she laughs up at me, drinking again. There’s a warm glow in her face now, and I don’t know how much of that is the alcohol and how much is the spark of heat emanating between us.
“Naughty naughty,” I tsk at her. “Booze and boys, I suppose?” I waggle my eyebrows playfully. Despite the teasing tone, I’m surprised at the flash of possessiveness that spikes through me at the thought of Beth with anyone else.
It makes me want to ease her back right here on the middle of the penthouse floor, claim her as mine once and for all.
“No boys,” she shakes her head. Twin spots of color rise high on her cheeks. “I mean I was a bad girl for Nowhere, Nebraska, Brash.”
Beth gestures expansively with her glass, a tumble of giggles falling past her lips. She looks sweetly innocent all of a sudden. The alcohol gives her eyes an almost crystalline sparkle. Beth has her legs stretched out in front of her, bare feet wiggling along the soft carpet where she kicked off her shoes a while back. It’s an oddly erotic sight beneath her sleek skinny jeans, as if she were letting me take a peek beneath the polished veneer she works so hard to keep between us at all times.
When she leans in close to me, I can smell the bittersweet tang of rye on her breath. I ease the tumbler out of her nimble fingers before we both end up covered in scotch.
Note to self. Beth is a one drink wonder.
“I used to listen to your music back then,” she purrs. Inside my jeans, my cock swells painfully. I’m not one to take advantage, but the sight of Beth’s big green eyes looking up at me is enough to make me want to lay her back and bury myself between her supple thighs. “Would stay up all night, pretending to study and daydream about running away from Omaha with a rockstar instead.”
The look in her eyes is nearly enough to make me cum in my pants. It’s all smoke and sex, but I manage to get a grip on myself before I tumble off a ledge with her.
“Here love, let’s take a look at your plans, yeah?” I reach across Beth’s lap to pull the wedding notebook between us. It doesn’t escape me that I’m actually about to throw myself into the details of wedding planning to distract myself from the supple curves of the brunette on my hotel room floor. Insanity, I decide, has clearly come for me.
“Um—” Beth’s palm snaps out, stopping the forward motion of my hand on her thick planning binder. “I don’t know. I made a perfectly good spreadsheet—”
Trust me, love. A document is not what I want to be spreading right now.
I manage to bite my tongue, carefully unwinding Beth’s finger’s from my own instead. Her flustered reaction has piqued my interest now, especially considering how perfectly she has insisted every step of this wedding go.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting when I ease open the laminated front cover of the wedding folder.
But this sure as hell isn’t it.
Just beyond the printed inserts with images of designer dresses and local vendors, an eight by ten piece of cardstock fills the page. The drawing that adorns it is overly dramatic, with the sharp, stylized angles of your typical middle school artist. The girl in the center of the page looks like a cupcake in a frosted gown, long flowing curls in various shades of yellow tumbling down the bare shoulders of the dress.
“Her hair was longer then,” Beth nods at the signature at the bottom of the page. Rori Stewart.
Sweet emotion tugs deep in my chest as I flip through the pages. Here, a cutout of a bouquet, fluffy with roses in a multitude of hues. On the next page, a collage of ideas for something blue.
“You’ve been keeping a scrapbook for Rori’s wedding?” I ask over the edge of the notebook. “How long have you been planning to play the perfect maid of honor?”
Beth’s eyes dart around the room, settling on everything but me for a moment.
“Since— forever?” She finally dissolves into another fit of giggles. “I can’t remember a time when Rori and I weren’t planning our weddings. I think we started this perfect wedding blueprint back in elementary school.”
“We?” I arch an eyebrow at her adorable rambling. The Lagavulin has loosened up her tongue delightfully. I love the flush in her face, the breathless way she’s laughing along with me now. “You mean to tell me not everything in this blackmail fodder is about Rori?”
“Oh goodness no,” Beth drags at the corner of her eye with her knuckle, wiping away traces of laughter tears. She looks so relaxed, so happy. I want to seal the moment up forever. I know she’s trying to outrun the demons of her past, but I decide right now that I’m going to own Beth Baker’s future. “Half of this bad boy is mine, too.”
She flips to the middle of the notebook. The change in style is apparent immediately. I have to smile to myself. Not only is Beth uniquely different from her best friend, I love the way her individual style meshes so well with my own.
Her dream dress is simple and tea length. Despite the fact that she has a picture of her teenage self taped to the short-sleeve retro-inspired dress, I have no problem picturing a very grown-up Beth Baker in the dress. I can see her spread out on the king-sized bed in the back of my jet, the delicate lace hem of that dress bunched up around her thick hips while we consummate our marriage at fifty-thousand feet.
“I want a chocolate wedding cake,” Beth crawls in close to me. The feeling of her sleepy head pressing against my chest is such a sudden contrast it’s jarring. “I don’t care if ‘s not traditional.”
She snuggles in close, long strands of soft brown hair falling in front of her face as she curls up in my lap. My cock is hard enough to break diamonds now, but I don’t dare move as she gets comfortable. My fingers wind their way along the back of her head, soothing her scalp as she settles in like a restless kitten.
“Then a chocolate cake you shall have,” I murmur. “And anything else you want.”
She doesn’t hear me, though. She doesn’t notice as I leisurely peruse the rest of the notebook, taking careful notes long into the night before I finally carry her into the massive bed in the master bedroom. Beth is already asleep, snoring softly with her head in my lap.
Chapter 5
Beth
I’m not content to be with you in the daytime. Girl, I want to be with you all of the time. The only time I feel alright is by your side. Girl I want to be with you all of the time. — The Kinks, ‘All Day and All of the Night’
There’s no gentle rain when I wake up.
No soft gloom of clouds to blot out the harsh reality of mid-morning sun streaming in through my windows. No, not my windows.
I scrub a hand across my face and try to remember where I am, and why it feels like there’s an old gym sock in my mouth. Once the bleariness of sleep and the last remnants of alcohol manage to clear out of my head, things begin to come into focus.
And by things, I mean me. I’m staring back at myself, sprawled out on the biggest bed I’ve ever seen in my life.
Did I die?
A flashback pierces the veil of hangover stupor— Brash Knight thumbing through the wedding scrapbook and planning notes Rori and I began taking in the summer of sixth grade. Apparently, it is possible to perish of embarrassment after all.
“Ugh.”
I pitch and make an effort to curl up on my side. From above, ghost me responds with a half-hearted wobble roll
I realize that I’m not staring at my remains, I’m looking at my reflection. Nestled among the elaborate paintings on the ceiling of his sprawling p
enthouse flat was a massive mirror.
The better to watch you with, my dear.
“Good morning.” Speaking of big bad wolves— Brash pokes his head in the door, flashing a grin at me before sweeping in.
It’s all blinding white teeth and brilliant blue eyes and I suddenly feel like I’m about to get eaten up. I notice he’s carrying a breakfast tray, and my stomach threatens to do a flip flop right out of my body.
“Brash, I appreciate the offer, but please tell me that’s not food.” I drag myself to a sitting position and wait for the world to stop spinning. When I manage to open my eyes again, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed right next to me.
He looks better than any human has a right to this early in the morning. Especially when alcohol exists. His eyes are clear pools in the morning light, his hair still wet from a morning shower.
“English fry-up, love. Guaranteed cure for a hangover.” Brash tugs the cover off the tray. Despite myself, I feel a grumble start low in my stomach. I don’t know if I’m hungry for him or the eggs. “Here, start with some tea. I’ve been hard at work while some of us slept in, but we’ve got a lot of work left to do.”
I take a look at the breakfast Brash has arranged for me. It’s elaborate enough to make me disregard his sarcasm. The massive white plate is filled to overflowing with fried eggs, beans, buttery toast, crisp sausage and more. I’ve never seen a sexier looking plate of guaranteed hangover cure in my life.
“Brash, this is enough to feed an army.” I take him up on the offer though, reaching for the mug of steaming tea.
“Eat up, love.” Brash’s words linger over me. “You’re gonna need your strength if we’re going to put the finishing touches on the wedding of Rori and Reed’s dreams.”
I can think of a lot of things I want to keep my strength up for.
“Finishing touches? Brash we haven’t even—” I start, but he goes right on over me.