Page 49 of Bridesmaid to Bride

She manages a smile. “That is pretty impressive, isn’t it?”

“Stunningly impressive.”

“Thanks for this, West.” She smiles for real. “I didn’t know how much I needed this moment with you until we just had it.” She leans in, locking her eyes with mine. Then she licks her lips, mumbling, “We already crossed the line once. I mean, what’s one more?”

“Right.” I shrug. “And, I mean, we’re at a wedding.”

“Exactly. It’s like one level below Vegas. You know. What happens at weddings…”

“Stays at weddings,” I finish.

She pulls me into the glassed-in private bedroom next to us and slides the door closed. The gap between us closes, our lips touching. As our mouths move slowly, it’s like we’re dancing on the edge of a blade—too scared to fall, too entranced to pull away.

Her fingers trace the line of my jaw—a touch that sends shivers down my spine as she pulls me deeper into unknown territory. The kind where a guy like me could easily lose his way, forget the map, and toss the compass because getting lost feels more like being found.

“Jesus,” I mutter as her tongue slides against mine, bold and unapologetic. Her kiss is a mix of sophistication and wild abandon.

I’ve kissed women before—hell, I’ve kissed Eva before. But now? It’s like we’re speaking our own language. My hands roam to her waist, anchoring her to me, as if she might slip away if I don’t hold tight enough. And there’s that fear beneath it all—that this moment is fleeting.

“Crossing the line feels so good,” she rasps, out of breath.

“So, so good.”

“I don’t want to go back right now,” she whispers. “Will you stay with me?”

Hell, yeah. “Of course.”

She runs a finger across my cheek. “If we go our separate ways, I’ll regret never knowing what it’s like with you.”

“Me too.” Right now nothing seems to matter more than the magnetic pull drawing me to her, as undeniable as gravity, as infinite as the cosmos.

23

The Fleeting Moment

EVA

We’re staring at each other in the moonlight seeping through the window, our chests heaving. He says, “You really want this?”

“You think I don’t know what I’m doing, but I do. I’m doing exactly what I want with the person I want.” He looks so good; all thoughts of Dad’s toast have vanished from my hormone-soaked brain. Then I bring my lips to West’s, and he immediately engulfs my mouth in his. There’s no politeness or gentleness as his tongue thrashes over mine, and he wastes no time unzipping my dress while I work on unbuttoning his shirt and yanking off his tie.

He gets me completely naked, and when I struggle to get his pants off, he takes over, unfastening his belt with a jingle and pushing them off. I slide his boxers off and his dick springs loose.

West’s dick. Something I’ve thought about so many times. Something that belongs to my friend and is so off-limits. I’m looking at it now—it’s perfect in every way—and I want it deep inside of me.

He drags his mouth down my belly before thrusting me up onto the edge of the bed. He smacks his elbow on the nightstand and says “oops” as he shakes it off and nudges me to lie down.

Then he pushes my legs up as his tongue works magic around my inner core—which is already about to burst.

“You taste so fucking good.”

“Oh, God,” I utter, realizing my vocabulary with him has become limited the last couple of days. But it’s the only words I can find.

It’s been a while, but I know it’s never felt this explosive. And holy shit—West’s technique is mind blowing. He clearly knows exactly what he’s doing as he flips his tongue and inserts his fingers, driving me over the edge as I shake.

I can’t believe this is happening… and in a private top-deck room of a yacht. My friends would be so proud. I lean back, screaming in pleasure as I come apart.

After recovering, my hands are around his dick. I’m pumping it as I move my mouth down to it. When I wrap my lips around it, he moans in a way that tells me he’s just as out of control as I am.

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