Page 49 of Dopplebanger

With a tiny squeal, Gwen clinked her glass to mine, and then we both downed the contents of our glasses…

A light buzz was my original goal, but Gwen and I came up with a game that involved drinking whenever someone said the words “bride”, “groom”, “connection”, or “perfect for each other” and things turned slightly out of control.

Our tablemates joined in about halfway through, Gwen’s bubbly, giggly demeanor drawing them right in. Soon people were casting longing glances our way, as if they regretted not being at the fun table.

Okay, we got a few admonishing glares as well, but we were too drunk and laughing too hard to pay them much mind. At one point, the bride and groom even came over to do a shot with us.

Madison insisted Gwen try to catch the wedding bouquet, and I about fell to the ground laughing when her not-even-close attempt to catch the bouquet sent several women down like bowling pins.

Apparently, we were on the same wavelength, because when she spun to face me, she threw her fists in the air and shouted “Strike!”

“You forgot a spare,” I said, jerking my chin toward the woman who’d caught the bouquet.

Gwen shrugged, then threw her arms around me—nearly knockingmeover—as she fused her mouth to mine. Desire and alcohol were the perfect combo to get rid of those pesky thoughts I’d been having. I couldn’t quite remember what they were, but I remembered they were a buzzkill, so good riddance.

We were coerced into doing the chicken dance with the bridal party, where I mostly watched Gwen do a version that involved half the regular steps, plus occasionally using my body as a stripper pole. She slid up and down and worked me into a lust-fueled tornado—when the girl let go, she really let go.

Honestly, it’d been a long time since I’d let go, too. I let myself touch her as much as I wanted to, whether it was winding my fingers through her hair, or dragging my fingers across the line of her collarbone, or letting my lips do the touching.

Of course, even though there was plenty of other types of touching I wanted to do, I wasn’t wasted enough to ignore social etiquette and breach PG-13 levels. My mind constantly spun with images that pushed into R-rated territory, though.

On our way back to the table, we grabbed more drinks to go with the cake they’d set out.

“I wonder why Madison chose roses.” Gwen gestured toward the red-rose centerpieces I’d only vaguely noticed before she pointed them out. Come to think of it, the bouquet she’d tried to catch a few minutes ago matched. “They’re super pretty and all, but we had a conversation once about how everyone always equates roses with romance, which leaves other pretty flowers totally underutilized. Flowers I think would be more romantic. Personally, I like tulips. No thorns, just these sweet flowers that are the first to pop up and announce spring to the world. Like trumpets of awesomeness.”

“Personally, I like your lips,” I said—apparently drinking brought out my super cheesy side. Since she kissed me again, I decided to mark it as a win anyway. She tasted like cake, too, so double bonus.

The world grew hazy at the edges over the next several drinks and minutes, and then suddenly Gwen was standing and tugging me to my feet.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“The photo booth! Finally there’s not a line anymore, and I want to take some goofy pictures in there with you. Capture this night in one of those cute film strips.”

The second the curtain to the booth closed, we went from a fancy event with a crowd to a cozy space with just the two of us.The same way it’d been on the trip here; the way I wanted it to be forever.

“Ready?” she asked, her finger hovering over the button.

“Ready.”

The first picture we pulled goofy faces. The next, I pressed my lips to hers. Everything I’d been holding back surged forward at once, the current so strong I was drowning in it, and more than that, I longed to go under. A disjointed voice in the depths of my mind whispered that I needed to stay in control, but I couldn’t remember why, and then I was pulling Gwen onto my lap and sliding my hands up her smooth thighs.

She rocked against me, and I groaned and kissed her again. Flashes went off. I wasn’t sure how many. Seconds blurred into minutes as one kiss bled into another.

“Wow, you’ve really got a hold of my ass there,” Gwen said.

Somewhere during the making out, I’d moved my hands to the ass I’d been obsessing over since the moment I laid eyes on her in this dress. “Sorry, I?—”

“Don’t be sorry. I like it.” She bent over me, her curves pressing against my chest, and grabbedmyass. “Remember how we’re letting go for the night? Stop holding back.” She kissed me, rolling her tongue over mine, and my fingers dug into her ass, squeezing and kneading as I took control of the kiss. I notched her higher in my lap so that her damp heat lined up with my rock-hard cock.

Her moan left me completely undone, a man now driven solely by baser urges. A ragged groan ripped from my throat as I arched against her. She shuddered against me, and the last of my self-control snapped and unraveled at her feet.

The knock made both of us jump.

“Shit.”

“Oh, I didn’t know someone was in there,” came a muffled voice.

Gwen giggled, the sound coming out more as a snicker since she was trying to keep it quiet.

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