by Kacey Shea
Lindsay grips a bottle of Heineken and twists it in her hands, chancing a glance at me while the guys get lost on a tangent about next year’s NFL draft. “Thank you,” she says, stepping closer to my side.
I tilt my head, confused as to what exactly she’s referring.
“Not only for allowing me to be here today.” She takes a deep breath, and I don’t have it in me to inform her I had no clue she would be. If I had a choice in the matter, she wouldn’t. “It’s just that moving here has been difficult. Work’s great! It’s just that I don’t know anyone. When I found out Tate taught at the gym near my apartment, it was like the universe was offering a sign that I wasn’t alone. Not many women I know would be okay with me being friends with their fiancé . . . or now, husband. Not after we dated. But he’s a great trainer and now . . .” She leans in conspiratorially. Her gaze flicks to Jerry, and it’s there, in her trace of a smile, in the adoration in her eyes, I see it. She’s totally smitten. “We’ve only been on three dates, but I can’t help but think—just know—he’s the one.”
“Oh, well. Yeah.” I blubber because I start to feel badly. All this time I thought she had corrupt intentions.
“Was it like that with you and Tate? Did you just know? Like, I don’t want to be unrealistic or get my hopes up, but Jerry . . . he’s so attentive. God, he wears a suit well. Time in the gym well spent. And fuck. I’ve always had a thing for redheads.” She giggles and I can’t help but smile along with her. She lowers her voice so only I can hear, “Girl, I need some advice!”
I glance over and Tate lifts one brow, probably wondering if he needs to rescue me or Lindsay. My gaze stays trained on him when I answer. “I’ll give you the same advice my sister-in-law gave me after I met Tate. Love doesn’t come around every day. If there’s even a possibility it’s real—something lasting between you two—don’t let it pass you by. Hold on to it with everything you’ve got. Who knows, maybe you’ll be taking your own walk down the aisle in a year.”
“A year! No way. That’s so soon. I don’t think I could make a major life decision like that,” she says, but her eyes find Jerry’s and I call bullshit.
“Mmm.” I shrug. “Never say never.”
The DJ’s voice rings out across the courtyard. “Tate and Evie, we need you on the dance floor. Someone help a brother track down those newlyweds!”
“I think we’re being summoned.” Tate winks and drops a chaste kiss on my lips as he snakes his arm around my waist.
“Yes, go, go!” Lindsay shoos us away, smiles, and glances over at Jerry from under her lashes. Wow. She’s really into him. By the way he’s returning her stare, I think the feeling is mutual.
“That went okay?” Tate asks, his voice low as we wind our way through the tables and onto the tent covered dance floor.
“Yeah.” I still can’t believe I read her so wrong. I think back over the few interactions I had with her and how my opinion was swayed by all the crap going down with Melissa and Drew. “She’s actually really nice, like you said. I think she’s got it bad for Jerry.”
“Good. Because he can’t stop talking about her. It’s driving Jon nuts.” Tate laughs and shakes his head. “Hell, who knows? Maybe in another year we’ll be dancing at their wedding.”
“Funny, I said the exact thing.”
Tate pulls me into his arms. “For now, can I have the first dance?”
“You can have them all.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tate
From the moment our feet hit the dance floor, our already perfect wedding transforms into a kickass party. Alongside our friends we shake, boogie, and sing along to the music. The same goofy smiles Evie and I have been sporting all night only grow with the laughter that comes from having a good time. No one is winning any dancing competitions, but it doesn’t matter, we’re having fun. Even Eli and Ez are busting moves out here with the adults.
A few hours pass and it becomes clear our DJ has an affinity for good ol’ Marvin Gaye. What started out as one every few songs has become a constant soundtrack of the iconic singer. That, or he only owns a few albums of other music, but as he’s a professional disc jockey, that’s hard to believe. Evie and I find it hilarious, even if it is the topic of conversation of most of our guests.
“Why don’t we slow things down and play one of the classics,” DJ Marv Super Fan calls over the microphone. I pull Evie close, swaying side to side to the familiar tune.
“Oh, my God!” Kate shuffles closer with Jon. “What gives? Your DJ is playing nothing but Marvin Gaye!”
“Who doesn’t want a little “Sexual Healing”?” I challenge and Evie’s body shakes against me with her laughter.
“It’s fine if you want to get it on, but Jesus! He’s playing the soundtrack to every baby made in this room! That, or he’s determined every woman leaves your reception knocked up.”
“Mission accomplished,” Jon quips, glancing down at the baby belly separating the couple. I hold out a fist for him to bump.
Kate shakes her head before leaning closer to Evie. “Please tell me this was not the playlist you gave him.”
Evie shrugs, keeping time to the beat of the music with her hips. “No. We told him to play whatever he normally plays for weddings.”
“Well, I hope you didn’t pay an arm and a leg for his services. And keep his card so I never accidentally book him for an event.”
“Oh, we got a smoking deal,” Evie says.
I nod, proud of my wife and how non-materialistic she is. I’ve seen other people drop their lifetime savings into one day. Evie was only really concerned about the food we’d be serving. “Yeah, didn’t you book him for like ninety-nine bucks?”
“What?” Kate shrieks.
“Groupon! They have everything there!” Evie shouts over the chorus as most of our guests sing along.
“You booked your wedding DJ on Groupon?” Kate’s shocked expression morphs into one of utter disgust.
“Yeah!” Evie laughs.
“But why? How could you do something like that? Evie, we’re grownups. This isn’t some backyard party. This is your wedding and it should be perfect!” Kate stops dancing, hands on her hips to glare at my wife. Kate’s a handful, always has been, but this is a new level of crazy. I get what she’s saying, but it’s not her day. Even Jon appears taken aback by her passion.
Evie glares right back before erupting into laughter. Kate doesn’t seem amused in the least, but it doesn’t stop Evie from going off. “Because I don’t give a shit about the music, Kate! As long as I’m dancing with this guy, all is well. If you don’t like it, go grab something from our amazing food truck buffet because that’s where we dropped the bulk of our budget.” Evie lifts her chin to meet my gaze and shrugs.
“I think I will,” Kate says and storms off, almost bumping into Melissa as she dances with Drew and plays with the ends of his bow tie. Jon grates his jaw and mutters an apology before following after.
“What’s got her so wound up?” I ask, but Evie shrugs.
“My honest guess? She wants Jon to ask her to get married, again. And even though she’ll probably say no because she’s too scared, and she’s got it in her head he’s only with her for the baby, I think she’s a little jealous.”
“Jealous? But she’s your best friend.”
“Yeah, but so are you. And now that we’re married . . .”
“She feels left behind. Okay, yeah. I can see that. Even if it’s not true.” I nod and pull Evie tight against my front. Landing a kiss atop her forehead, I close my eyes and inhale, memorizing everything about this day. This moment. This feeling. Bottling it up to cherish for years to come.
The music changes to a new song, another Gaye top hit and I twirl Evie in a circle before bringing her back to my arms. “This JD really does suck,” I whisper in her ear.
She nods and there’s laughter in her voice when she replies. “Yeah, I know. But I don’t even care. Today has been everything and more.”
&nbs
p; “It has. But you know what would make it even better?” Damn, this DJ knows what’s up, because thanks to his playlist there’s only one thing on my mind. Okay, maybe two.
Evie groans, and the sound goes straight to my groin. “Please tell me you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”
I blow out an unsteady breath and pin her with my stare. “We hit the food truck for two milkshakes and get the hell out of here.”
“God, I love you.” She smiles, pushes up on her toes and kisses my lips once before dragging me toward the parked trucks. Even though the music wasn’t what we would have planned, it turns out DJ Exploding Ovaries knew a few things about love, or rather how to insure we left our party two extremely satisfied customers. I’ve been to many wedding receptions in my life, but none like ours, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
LEAVING the reception takes longer than it should. Too many people catch us to offer their congratulations and well wishes as we try to sneak out. Evie didn’t want to do any of the traditional practices. No garter, throwing of a bouquet, or cutting cake when there’s a milkshake food truck! Of course we have to grab two for the road. When we finally make it to my Charger a good hour later, I don’t waste any time. I put the powerful engine to the test and race downtown as quickly as possible. We check into our hotel, but Evie insists on going up first.
“Order a drink and I’ll text you when I’m ready for you.” She slaps one of the two room keys into my palm and nods at the bar.
“Okay, but I don’t really want a drink.” Impatience, along with the insatiable desire to get naked with my wife has taken away any thirst for alcohol. I want to feel and taste every moment of today. And soon.
“Won’t be but a few minutes. Promise.” She pushes onto her toes, leaning up to lick the shell of my ear. “I’m just as hot and bothered as you are, babe.” She winks, walking backwards a few steps with her overnight bag in hand.
“Damn you, Marvin Gaye!” I raise my fists in the air, and Evie’s laughter follows her inside the elevator. I gain a few strange looks in the process, too. That, and the fact I have to adjust myself.
Finding a seat at the bar, I sip water and catch up on the day’s top sports stories. When my cell buzzes with the notification to come up, it doesn’t take more than a few seconds for my feet to hit the floor and I’m heading upstairs to our room.
“Evie?” I call out when I step into our suite. The door slams shut behind me. One small lamp is the only light left on, but the open curtains allow the city lights below to illuminate the empty bed in an iridescent glow. Soft music plays from a portable speaker, a song from her favorite playlist, but as I drop my bag at the closet my bride is nowhere in sight. “Evie?” I knock on the bathroom door.
“Go sit on the bed. I’ll be right out.”
I shrug off my jacket and lay it over the back of the sofa on my way to the bed. I loosen my tie and take off my cuff links. Only then do I hear the soft click of the bathroom door. My gaze snaps up and my breath catches in my throat. Incredible.
“Is this okay?” Evie asks, knowing damn well it’s more than that. “We don’t usually do the lingerie thing, what with it coming off so quickly . . .” Her fingertips dance along the transparent white lace cups that barely contain her breasts.
“Fuck,” I hiss through my breath.
Goddamn, she’s beautiful. Gorgeous. Sinfully perfect, and I don’t know what I did to deserve this woman as my wife. I make a silent pledge, one among hundreds to date, that I’ll do everything in my power to bring her happiness, joy, and show her how much I love her with every breath I take.
I’ll start with making her come.
“I love you, Evie.”
“I love you, too, Tate.”
“Come here.” The growl leaves my mouth sounding more tormented than I intend. That’s what she does to me. But tonight it’s more than that. Tonight everything is more. I can’t wait to be inside my wife.
She struts across the room until she’s just out of my reach. “You like?” She performs a slow twirl to show off all the white lace, hooks, ties, and bows. It’s an impressive getup.
“You get into that all by yourself?” An honest question because as sexy as she looks in it, I’m not sure I have the patience to get her out of it. I wonder how she’d feel about me ripping the thing off.
“No.” She giggles and my eyes leave the valley of her breasts to glare into her teasing eyes. “Don’t worry, big guy. It was Kate who harnessed me into this medieval torture device.”
“Torture is right.” She takes one step closer so she’s between my widened legs, and only then do I allow my hands the pleasure of running along her pale skin. From the swell of her breasts, down her abdomen to the flesh of her hips, everything about her accelerates my hunger. My fingers hook beneath the elastic strap that appears to connect two pieces together. “Do I need an instruction manual to remove this?”
I’m joking.
Mostly.
She laughs and shakes her head, “The only instructions you have are to enjoy. And get it off.”
“Oh I’ll get it off, after I get you off, Mrs. Reynolds.”
“God, I love the sound of that.” She moans and while I know she’s referring to her name, I can’t help but tease her as my touch travels over every luscious curve of her body.
“Oh, me too. I love the way you sound when you come. Now, turn around.”
She complies, the heat in her eyes full of all the desire I feel. Brushing her hair to one side, I embark on the painful task of releasing the series of clasps that hold her corset-style bra together. It falls to the floor and I pull her so she’s directly between my legs. Planting languid kisses down her back, I cup her breasts and tweak her nipples into hard points.
“Yes, Tate. Please.” She arches her back and presses her ass into my erection, but this isn’t about me yet.
I stand from the bed and turn her in my arms, but we don’t miss a beat. Our lips come together. Tasting. Melding. My fingers make quick work of what’s left of her outfit, and hers tug open the buttons on the front of my shirt until she’s pushing the entire thing off my shoulders. Cradling her neck with my hand, I push her back onto the bed, my lips never leaving hers as I climb over her body.
The thrumming of the music along with her breathy moans as I drag my fingers through her wet center become a heady, erotic soundtrack. My lips work their way south, lavishing each pert nipple before moving across the ink of my name and ending just above her mound. Sliding my fingers in and out of her folds, my cock pushes greedily against the fabric of my pants, and my senses are overwhelmed.
I have one goal in sight before I sink into my wife, and that’s to make her fall apart first. It’s partly I-absolutely-love-to-watch-her-come mixed with I’m-so-turned-on-I’ll-blow-my-load-in-less-than-a-minute, but regardless, the end result is worth the temporary self-deprivation. Scooting off the bed so my knees hit the carpet, I hook both hands under her thighs and pull her to the edge of the mattress so I can spread them wide.
She pushes up on her elbows and watches my ministrations from beneath hooded eyes. I sink two fingers back inside and lock my lips around her most sensitive flesh. Her hips try to buck off the bed, but I press against her lower belly to keep her in place.
“Oh, God. Yes, Tate. Right there, babe. More. Please.” She chants that and more over the music. Increasing the pace, I stroke my fingers up with a come hither motion and swipe the flattened tip of my tongue back and forth across her swollen clit. I know she’s close. I can feel it with the tightening of her body and it only spurs my motions. Harder. I want her orgasm.
Her stomach clenches and shakes, and she shouts my name as her pleasure peaks and washes over her. I draw it out, slowing my motions but not letting go until every bit of her release has trembled from her body.
“Oh, wow.” She slumps back onto the still made bedding with a ragged breath, her body completely satiated. “Oh, babe. You outdid yourself with that one.” Her lips pull up to on
e side with her smirk as I climb up beside her.
“You need a few minutes?” I want to be polite, even though I’d rather mount her and sink deep inside that pussy I know for a fact is warm and wet.
She quirks an eye and before I can even ask, she’s on top of me, straddling my legs and working my pants down my thighs. Her delicate hands reach for my dick as it springs free, and she caresses me with long, measured strokes that equally give pleasure and pain. Pain because it’s not close to enough.
“How do you want me?” she asks through her uneven breath. “Can I ride this cock?” Before I can remember how to formulate an answer other than a ragged groan, she positions herself over my hardness and guides me into her folds. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I have to pinch my eyes closed to think of anything other than how fucking incredible she feels. Snake bites. Roller coasters getting stuck midair. Giant spiders. Crazy pregnant women. Babies. Evie pregnant with my baby. Shit. I don’t verbally share how turned on that makes me, but the thought stays in my mind as my fingers dig into her hips and I thrust up as she swivels her hips up and down my shaft. I’m so close to blowing my load, but I want to hold out until she’s come once more.
Ring, ring, ring. The music cuts with the harsh sound of an incoming call and Evie’s eyes snap to mine. Her movements slow. “It’s fine. Let it go to voicemail.” She says as we try to resume our pace. The music comes back on but after another thirty seconds it cuts again.
Ding. Ding. Ding-ding-ding-ding.
Evie’s phone alerts once, twice, three times in that familiar incoming text message tone until it becomes an incessant annoying cock blocking machine. I feel her body still again. She’s pulled from the moment. Even my dick acknowledges defeat. It seems our lovemaking has been tabled.