Page 137 of Stolen Moments

As I open the door, I take in the small quiet room. From the looks of it, Rylann and Scarlett aren’t here yet, and I take that as a sign. I’m a little sweaty after working all afternoon, and with the ceremony being held at seven this evening, it’s probably a good idea to take a quick shower.

Grabbing my clothes and toiletries bag from my suitcase, I proceed to the bathroom. Turning on the water to warm, I place my clean clothes on the counter and strip. My feet hit the cold tile floor, sparking memories.

Pushing them back, I open the shower door and slip into the steam, letting the hot water soak me. I can’t stop the visions as the sleek white and gray motif of the shower transports me back to the first weekend Mason and I spent together in Portland.

With only one date under our belt before that weekend, we spent the entire month leading up to it talking on the phone, video calling, or texting. As soon as I saw his handsome face standing at the bar, my heart flipped and the butterflies in my belly soared. Dinner was all heated looks and slight touches, before we made our way upstairs and attacked each other, the simmering chemistry between us exploding. I can still feel the cold tiles stinging my back as Mason pushed me against the wall and fell to his knees in front of me as he buried his face in my pussy.

My nipples harden under the warm water, my skin tingling with energy, and my clit pulses with need. It’s the same way my body reacted last night when Mason claimed my mouth with his. Hecaught me by surprise, but it didn’t stop me from kissing him back. My body is defenseless to his touch.

That kiss.

My pelvic muscles clench air just thinking about his hot hand wrapped around my wrist as he pulled me close and crushed his soft lips to mine. My heart beats in my ears as his spicy ginger scent wraps around me, bathing me in heat and melting me like ice cream on a summer’s day.

My soapy fingers graze my aching center as a door slams close by, sobering me up and dousing the heat between my legs. I carefully wash my face and body, then quickly rinse off, making sure my hair doesn’t get wet. Turning off the water, I grab a towel and dry off.

Cool air hits my skin, pebbling my flesh, in no way similar to the flaming shivers my skin experiences when Mason touches me. He’s a crackling fire that burns me to my core, fast and hot. I groan to myself as I finish drying. Guilt gnaws at me.

What was Mason thinking, kissing me like that? Like I’m his. I was with a date, for crying out loud.

But you aren’t with Graham. He’s your friend.

Yeah, well, Mason doesn’t know that.

Shame burns my cheeks and guilt builds in my stomach, bubbling like a sickness, for letting Mason believe Graham is more to me than just a friend.

I lather lotion onto my skin before putting on my strapless bra and matching beige thong. I give my body a quick dry with the blow dryer—because who likes feeling sticky under their clothes—and then pull on a pair of leggings and a button-up shirt. Sniffing at the collar, hoping to catch a whiff of the spicy cologne that used to linger on the soft fabric, I come up empty, and my heart pinches like it normally does at the loss. Rolling up the sleeves, I walk out of the bathroom as Rylann and Scarlett enter.

“You’re here!” Rylann squeals, rushing to me as she wraps her arms around my waist. Looking up at me with wide happy eyes, a grin spreads across her face.

She’s four years older than me but I’m four inches taller, and it’s a funny juxtaposition when I actually look up to her. She is everything I want to be when I grow up.

“I just walked through the banquet room, and it’s amazing. You did such a wonderful job. It’s even better than I imagined, Em. Thank you.” Rylann hugs me again before letting me go.

“You’re welcome. I’m just so glad you love it.”

“Are you kidding? Your talents are wasted in marketing.”

“Shut up, Ry. We don’t want her leaving us.”

“Scarlett’s right. You did a horrible job. The absolute worst.” Rylann’s eyes sparkle, relaying the opposite of her words.

“Don’t worry. You ladies are stuck with me.” While I might want to plan a wedding here or there, I love working with these two women.

“I think it’s the other way around.” Scarlett grabs the garment bags from the closet and moves them, hanging them over the closet doors. “Alright, bridezilla. How do you want to get this party started? Virgin mimosas?”

I can’t help the snort that slips out. “Isn’t that just orange juice?”

“Yes, but it sounds a lot cooler than saying, ‘Hey, want a glass of OJ?’ Please let me live in my delusions.”

Rylann giggles at Scarlett as I nod in agreement.

“You’re right. My apologies, Boss Bitch.”

Scarlett smirks, her blue eyes twinkling with mirth. “You’re catching on, grasshopper.”

I twist side to side, smoothing my dress down as I watch the silky fabric sway in the mirror. I’m in love with the spaghetti-strapped gold dress. It’s butter soft, falls to the floor in waves, and has a slit up my left thigh. It’s sexy as hell while still being classy.

Rylann pressured me into wearing it—calling me her honorary bridesmaid—as it matches the one Scarlett is wearing.

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