Page 72 of Sister of the Bride

“Sorry,” he says, then leans down and blows on the spot, providing almost instant relief. Why does that work? Are there actual medical studies about the effects of blowing on a wound? Should I ask Toby that? Right now?

Jesus Christ, Pippin.

As usual, my brain is coming up with anything other than what Iwantto say. What Ineedto say.

And while I sit here and ponder ways to tell Toby that I amdefinitelyin love with him, he cleans my poor burgeoning blisters and bandages my toes with special cushy Band-Aids.

“What would I do without you?” I say, still not ready to give voice to my real feelings.

Toby sits back on his heels and starts to pack away the supplies. He shrugs. “This is just basic first aid. Get yourself a Girl Scout and you’ll be good to go.”

“True, you aren’t a great Samoa connection.”

“Well, Siobhan’s youngest is joining Daisies, so give me some time,” he says with a wink. He digs some adhesive moleskin out of his first aid box and hands it to me. “You can put this inside Polly’s shoes, and you’ll probably need it inside yours too with all these blisters.”

I let out a breath that’s half sigh, half laugh. “Honestly, Toby, what would I do without you?”

“Google could have told you about this,” he says. He snaps the lid closed and meets my eyes. “You’re not helpless, Pippin. You’re just overwhelmed.” Then he reaches for my leg, his warm hand cradling my calf as he examines his work. “How’s that feel?”

His long fingers are brushing softly against my bare skin, and when he looks up at me, his chocolate-brown eyes are like warm pools I want to sink into and never come out. My entire foot could be hanging off my body and I don’t think I’d notice because the flood of warmth low in my belly would drown out the pain.

“Toby,” I whisper, reaching down to brush his cheek. “I know I’m not helpless. But that doesn’t mean I need you any less.”

And then I cup his cheeks and lean down until my lips brush his, softly at first, then with more intention. Because while I still haven’t figured out how to say what I need to say, I know I can show him.

He kisses me back immediately, his hands sliding up the backs of my arms and gripping me tightly, pulling me toward him, a groan rumbling up from somewhere low inside him. But then he pulls back, putting just enough distance between us that he can look me in the eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply so quickly he barely has time to finish his question.

“No, I mean it, Pippin. Are yousure?” he says, his voice filled with vulnerability. And I can’t tell if he’s asking more for me or forhim. “Because last time—”

“I’m sure,” I say, my lips pulling up into a grin. “I’ve caught up, Toby.”

A grin starts at the corner of his mouth, then quickly spreads across his face, into his dimple and up into the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes. If last time was a whirlwind of confusion and questions and concerns, this time feels like an absolute explosion—a full Fourth of July fireworks show—ofyes.

We crash back into each other, and even though I’ve kissed Toby before, this feels new. This feels like the start of something, like a door has opened, one I can’t wait to bolt through. He scoops me up and lays me back gently against his pillows, coming to rest beside me, his lips never leaving mine. And I immediately want to be closer. I want more. I throw my leg over his waist and pull him toward me, reveling in the way he rolls his hips against me. Toby, it seems, is alsoverysure about this, and the feeling of him hard against me sends a flood of warmth between my thighs.

But we’re in no rush. It’s like we have a decade of making out to catch up on. By the time his fingers reach beneath the hem of my T-shirt, leaving a trail of heat along my bare skin, I feel like we’ve been kissing for hours. His thumb traces a warm line beneath the swell of my bare breast, and just that, that barely-almost-not-quite-there touch makes me gasp. I ammadeof desire, but Toby stops again. He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, his curls flopping over his forehead as he hovers above me.

“Are yousure?” he asks again, his eyes searching mine for any sign that I’m going to regret this. But there are none.

“Yes,” I reply, reaching up and tugging on one of his rogue curls. “We can stop and talk about it if you want. I’m ready. Or we can just…” I walk my fingers down his back and slip them beneath his running shorts to grab his muscular ass.

He grins and huffs out something between a laugh and a sigh of relief. “Thankgod,” he says. Then he strokes his thumb across my nipple, and I’m gone for him. For this. I want him so badly I can taste it, and when I kiss him, our lips parting so I can brush my tongue against his, I do.

“I just have one last question,” he whispers against my lips.

“I’msure, Toby. I won’t run this time,” I say.

“I know, Pip,” he says, running his tongue along my jawline and settling a warm kiss just below my ear that makes me moan into his. “I just wondered if maybe we could lose the unicorn robe?”

I bark out a laugh—I’d completely forgotten there was a glittery silver unicorn horn splayed across the pillow over my head. This man, my best friend, wanted me even when I was wrapped in hot pink fur like some deranged Muppet. My god, how did I get so lucky?

Instead of answering him, I sit up, shrug off the robe, and lose the T-shirt while I’m at it. I shove the waistband of my black silk sleep shorts and underwear down my thighs and shimmy and kick until they fly off my toes and into the corner of his room. Fully naked, I flop back onto the pillows, stare him directly into his eyes, and wink.

I swear the man stops breathing for a full minute. He sits up and lets his eyes roam over my bare skin and swallows.Hard.

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