Page 77 of The Trouble with Runaway Brides

“Just go.”

Then I see Lance’s truck off to our left. I open the door and step out. My heels slip on the snow and gravel drive, and I almost sprain an ankle.

The cabin door is so cute, with a rounded top and a little window. I knock, my stomach in my throat, and look back at the truck, but Van is already pulling away.

The door opens and Lance stands there in sweats and a white T-shirt that’s snug along his biceps. His hair is messy and he looks as though he hasn’t slept, but he’s never looked more delicious to me. More like home.

“Kenzie?” He looks me up and down. “Please tell me this is what it looks like.”

My hands fly out to my sides. “Surprise, I’m a runaway bride.”

I rush into his arms and don’t waste a second before plastering my lips to his.

Twenty-Five

Lance

Kenzie stands in the doorway of the cabin in her wedding dress and veil, but I’m terrified to assume anything. She could just want closure before she walks down the aisle. Today has been excruciating, thinking of her marrying Will. Every second that ticked by, I felt like I was waiting with my heart in my throat for a knock on the door. And when it finally came, I was convinced my mind was playing tricks on me. Until I opened the door to the most beautiful woman alive. My woman, whether she marries another man or not.

Kenzie throws herself at me, pressing her body to mine, then her lips are on mine. Oh fuck, her lips. I forgot how right they feel. One hand immediately goes to the back of her head and the other one to the small of her back.

Her soft lips pull away. “I love you, Lance. I was so stupid to think I could deny what I feel for you and marry someone else.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.” I don’t want details. All that matters is she’s with me in this moment.

“I just… I didn’t want to ever feel that way ever again.” She strips the veil from the back of her head and throws it on the chair. Turning around, she says, “Unzip me.”

My shaky hands find the zipper and manage to lower it. She tears off her dress, leaving herself in lacy white panties and a bra. The thought that Will was going to see this tonight turns my blood to lava. I blink away my jealousy because I have to put Will aside. She’s here now, with me.

“Take it all off. I can’t stand that this was for another man.”

She places her palms on my cheeks. “It was never for him. I’ve been yours since I was fifteen and I’ll be yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever. I’ll have you forever.”

She unclips her bra and it falls to the floor, exposing her modest but perfect tits. Her nipples are pebbled, and she stares at me. “I love the way you look at me.”

“How’s that?”

“Like I’m your everything.”

I sit on the couch behind me and hook my fingers into her panties and drag them down her legs. “Because you are my everything. You always have been.”

She stands naked between my legs, but she’s still not satisfied. She takes out bobby pin after bobby pin, placing them on the table as if she’s stripping herself of him. Her hair falls slightly, but even as she tries to pull it all free of the hairspray, the silky strands don’t fall to her shoulders. “My hair is a mess.”

“I don’t care. Come here.”

I guide her onto my lap with my hands on her hips. She straddles me and runs her hands under the hem of my T-shirt. I lift my arms and she pulls the T-shirt over my head and off my arms.

“God, I’ve wanted to feel this chest for so long. Do you know how many times I came to that article in the magazine where you posed without your shirt? Hell, even the picture of you in your suit made me come.”

I place my hand on her cheek. There’s so much I want to tell her, but I physically ache for her right now. I need to feel her body joined with mine, bared of clothes, baring our souls. So I pull her head down to mine. Our lips touch and I slide my tongue into her mouth. She groans and we perfect the dance we once were experts at.

Kenzie slides forward, her core running against my hard cock. When she grinds and I raise my hips off the cushion to give her the friction she needs, she moans. I strip my lips off hers and kiss her jaw and down her neck, my one hand on her back and the other grazing the path between her tits. She bends at her waist, her head falling closer to my knees, and I suck a nipple into my mouth.

She moans, her hands flexing on my thighs. “More.”

I twirl the taut nipple with my tongue, swirling and sucking, nibbling until I pop my mouth off to find it red and wet. Then I move to the other and execute the exact same pattern as she unapologetically grinds against my cock.

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