Page 111 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 2

Caressing my cheek, she leans closer as a shiver runs through her. “I think you’re incredibly sexy when you get that intense look in your eyes, the one that tells me I better brace myself without you having to say a word.” She massages my shoulders, and I lean into her touch. “Oh, by the way, I volunteered to fill you in on how to walk down the aisle.”

“One step at a time until I reach the front?” I deadpan.

“You got it. I can check that off my list.”

“Speaking of lists and checking things off, you do realize you’re still naked in front of me, right?”

“I do,” she says and then bursts out laughing. “See? I’m in the theme of the weekend.”

“You’re delirious is what you are.”

She shrugs. “It’s been a long day. Que será.” Running a finger down my chest, she says, “But since I am naked, maybe you’d like to get naked with me.”

“And then we could check out my movie collection?”

“I think the kids call it streaming these days.” When her hand dips to my dick, it’s already ready for her and standing at attention. She rubs twice before taking hold of me. “I bet you know a thing or two about streaming, Counselor.”

“I sure do.”

As if she had to say anything more, I kiss her, and we “watch movies” for the next few hours . . .

~ The Wedding Day ~

It’s a happy occasion, or it’s supposed to be.

Not seeing Tealey since she snuck out of my room around five o’clock is getting to me. One of the best nights of my life should allow for the best morning to follow. I don’t get that, though, because we’re still a secret. The only comfort I found in that empty spot next to me was the fact that we’re going public at the reception. And then she’s mine all the time to do as I please.

If I want to kiss her?I can.

Holding her in my arms for no reason?Yep, I can do it.

Tell her I love her?The floor is mine.

Wait . . .Do I want to tell her I love her tonight?

That might be taking it too far, even if I do feel that way about her.Baby steps, Wellington.Not everything has to be revealed at the same time. I think big gestures can wait until we’re back home in New York, and it’s just the two of us.

It’s Cammie and Cade’s special day, after all. Their happiness is what matters. Not mine . . .

Lorie Marché touches my arm, whispering close to my ear. “Emerald cut. Four carats minimum. Marlow’s dream is five, though. Platinum band with something special the two of you share engraved on the inside.” She thinks she’s being sneaky, gathering this information and sharing these little nuggets with me throughout the morning. I’m just glad I had an excuse to miss the rehearsal dinner.

“Like a prison tattoo,” I say, unable to stop myself. “Something to mark us, like noting how we’re being sentenced to life with the I dos?” She blinks rapidly.

Opening her mouth like a fish out of water, she holds her finger up and then lowers it again. Her eyes shift to Bob, and then she says, “More along the lines of a phrase you say to her regularly?—”

“Stop barging in?”

She tightens her lips and then pops them. “A simple I love you should do the trick.”

“Got it,” I reply.

Unfortunately, Lorie is still clinging to my arm like we’re old friends, or lovers by how close she is to my ear. She has no boundaries, something I assume is a luxury you acquire when you hold power in Hollywood. They never hear no.

Bob and Marlow are already at the edge of the lawn where the grass meets the sand when we catch up to them. Standing in a row, we stare ahead at the vast ocean.

Marlow reaches for my hand, and though I like to fuck with her by shifting, I finally succumb to the inevitable. Our connection elicits the faintest gag sound, causing me to look at Marlow. Leaning over, she says, “It’s like holding hands with my brother.”

“You don’t have a brother.”

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