Page 38 of Bridesmaid to Bride

Oh, sweet Jesus! “Make it stop.” I gag. “We have to get out of here!” Except I don’t want to barge in on the camera guy. I mean, Paige will kill me if I get him on my bad side.

“You’re a very naughty girl,” Tyson says, followed by a slapping sound. “I’m gonna punish you so hard.”

“Jesus,” West mumbles under his breath. “I can actually feel my testicles shrinking back into my abdomen.”

“I can never unhear that.” I grimace as another groan echoes through the wood. Okay, as gross as this is, I can’t help but wish it was me doing that. I deserve hot sex! And I know West does too.

A beat of silence, then...

A woman’s voice pierces through the awkward silence like a siren. “Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh God!”

My heart kicks up a notch, pulse thudding in my ears. “Is that Olivia?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Olivia wails.

“Sounds like a ‘yes’,” West mutters.

“Tyson and Olivia,” I say, a realization dawning. Ohhh! Maybe she was flirting with Zach to get Tyson to notice her that first night? Then the dildo thing was foreplay for… this. All the times Olivia was trying to get camera time—maybe she was just trying to get Tyson? So maybe she’s not the one messing with this wedding? It seems like probably no since she clearly doesn’t want Zach.

I try to tune out the rhythmic thumping against the other side of the wall.

“This is natural,” West says, as if trying to convince himself. “It’s the biochemical symphony of our reproductive urges.” Another moan seeps through the thin walls of our cramped hell.

“West,” I whisper, pinching the bridge of my nose, “can we not turn this into National Geographic commentary?”

“Sorry,” West mumbles.

“Ooh, harder. Harder. God, harder!” Olivia squeals, and the bangs become more fervent.

At this point, I’m feigning disgust, but it’s kind of hot. It’s West, so I decide to fess up. “I hate to admit it, but I’m getting turned on. It’s been way too long.”

“Kinda me too.” He lets out a breath then starts rubbing the back of his neck. “This position isn’t ideal.”

“Here.” I reach over and give his neck the best massage I can because I care about West. And, well, I’m looking for an excuse to touch him.

He leans into me, so close I can’t massage him anymore, and the next thing I know, he’s kissing my neck.

And holy hell—does it feel good.

“Oh my God.” I close my eyes. “Should we do this?” I ask, not wanting no as an answer. His breath hits my ear, and it’s bliss. “Maybe just this once?”

“Right. I mean, it’s an emergency.”

That’s all I need to hear.

My lips are on his, and our kiss is feverish, wet, and a little raunchy. But it feels electric, and every touch sends lightning bolts to my core.

Our mouths and bodies smash together, and fireworks explode inside me. It’s like a dam breaking, every stroke of our tongues a release of bottled-up desire. My hands find their way to his hair, tugging as I deepen the kiss.

West’s arms wrap around my waist, pulling me in tight. The taste of him is a mix of whiskey and something else that’s uniquely him, and the sensation of his lips on mine consumes me as his hands roam everywhere.

His mouth moves hungrily down my jawline then to my neck. My head lolls back as he finds just the right spot to nibble on, sending shock waves down my spine.

Our breathing becomes ragged as we continue more kisses, each one more intense than the last. We can’t get enough of each other.

My hands wander under his clothing. I want to feel every inch of him. His muscles tense under my touch, and it only makes me want him more. “West,” I moan out his name, ripping his shirt off.

I must not be thinking because if I were, I wouldn’t believe what’s happening. I’m crossing so many lines with my best friend.

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