Page 86 of The Wedding Menu

Ian:

So… fuck it? Not?

Hugging myself, I stare at Ian’s name. I wish I could follow his advice. I wish his “Fuck it” attitude were as infectious as I made it out to be. Mostly, I wish he were here, right next to me, so he could hug me instead.

Amelie:

Not.

The Fault in the Plan

— TODAY—

We enter Ian’s room in a rush, his strong arms wrapped around me as soon as the door closes. He gives me space to take the lead, to touch him like I need to. And then he does, and every single noise that comes out of him as his lips slide along my neck and his hands travel up and down my thighs is sinful perfection.

“Are you sure about this?” His mouth is on mine as I begin pulling down his joggers. I haven’t even taken his T-shirt off yet and I’m shooting directly for the stars, so I’d say I’m pretty sure. There’s no stopping me tonight.

“I’m sure.”

“But you understand one night is all I can—”

His joggers are down his thighs, his briefs stretching in an unmistakable way. One glance is enough to know that when he said he was “not that well-endowed,” he once again lied. I reach forward, careless of his warning, but just as my hand feels his hard length under the thin layer of black cotton, his fingers tighten around my wrist. He unceremoniously pulls me closer, and as I land against his chest, he whispers in my ear, “Feeling greedy, are we, Amelie?”

I shiver, his deep, raspy voice reaching corners inside me thathave been shut down for a long time. Letting out a shaky breath, I hold on to his shoulder and use my hand, trapped between our bodies, to gently brush my fingers over his shaft. “Yes.”

His breath, hot and trembling, fans against my ear and, taking a step forward, he guides me to the bed. He gently sits me down, his hand leaving my wrist only to get rid of his joggers, then his T-shirt.

Fuck me, I could stare at him for days.

Every single furrow and muscle in his body has been put in front of me to lead me down a road of temptation I honestly want no GPS for. Let me get lost in there. Let me roam around for hours, not knowing exactly where I am but enjoying the view greatly. His shoulders have muscles. His hips have dimples. There are even those delicious V lines that disappear into his briefs. He’s all perfection. A god among humans. So good.

Almost… too good.

“Amelie?”

I look up at his face, my chest heaving. “Yes?”

“I feel like I lost you.” He looks down at himself with a cocked brow. “That doesn’t usually happen when I take my clothes off.”

“No, no.” I smile, though my stomach is twisting. “I’m fine. You’re fine.”

But I’m not fine, and he’s not either. He’s so fucking gorgeous.

I’ve never slept with someone so good-looking. I’ve never slept with anyone but Frank at all. How am I supposed to compete with Ella? With the dozens of women Ian must have slept with? How can I match his experience? How can I even fathom making it enjoyable for him?

“I’m fine, huh?” He smirks. “Well, I’m flattered, but I have to warn you, Amelie, that if you run for the door, I’ll chase after you naked. Nobody wants to see that.” He rests his hands on his hips.“I’d probably get arrested. You’d have to bail me out. It’d be pretty embarrassing for me.”

“I’m not going to run,” I whisper as I stand.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says softly as he leans forward and strokes my cheek. “I understand. There’s a lot of history—too much for a one-night stand.” He threads his fingers through my hair, tilting my head up. He smiles, then kisses me gently. “I’m kissing you. Kissing you, Amelie. After everything that happened, I never thought I would, and now I am. Sleeping with you would be…” He shakes his head as he stares down at my dress. “But a kissing one-night stand with you is enough.”

“It’s not enough for me,” I insist. “Please, just give me a minute.”

He studies my face, his brows wrinkled as if he’s not convinced, so I kiss his lips, bite them, and when he tightens his hold on my hair, I kiss his jaw all the way to his neck and ear. Then I whisper, “Just one minute.”

“Okay.”

Thank God. His hands drop to his sides. I smile, quickly squeeze his hand, and walk to the bathroom. When I walk back and grab my bag, his gaze follows my movements. “Just… female hygiene products.”

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