Page 151 of Snowed In

Well, fuck. Maybe I could give this a shot.

Damnit, I don’t know anything anymore.

We arrive just on time, despite being waylaid by several make-out sessions and one frantic hand job at the rest stop. We slip into the back of the chapel; me feeling like more of a sinner than most, just as the doors open and Bree walks through. She looks beautiful in her ivory wedding dress, a veil over her face, and an array of flowers in her hands. Bryan is waiting at the end of the aisle, tears streaming down his cheeks.

I turn to look at Christian and see that he’s sniffling too, pulling his handkerchief from his suit pocket and dabbing at his eyes.

He cried like that for me.

My cock hardens, and I shift, accidentally nudging Christian in the process. He startles and then his gaze softens, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. I want to lean forward and kiss him, to slide my tongue inside his mouth, but resist.

I need to keep my cool.

I’m better than this. I don’t simp over a guy. And certainly not over Christian.

When the vows are over and we all move into the dining hall for the reception, I lose Christian in the crowd of people mingling and laughing. I tell myself not to look for him, that it doesn’t matter where he is. It’s honestly better this way. Really, it is. Still, I can’t help but search. And when I find him, I see him chatting with a beautiful woman who is standing far too close to him, all buttoned up and prim. She looks like a good religious woman, pure and innocent.

So unlike me.

In every way.

I stare down at my tattooed hands and fiddle with my tongue ring. The same ring that made Christian scream my name earlier.

Whatever. It wasn’t going to work, anyway. It was just a fluke, a snowed-in coincidence. I need to not get my hopes up. Whenever I do, I always end up being let down. Christian is no different.

Now that we’re not stuck inside a small room together, he’s forgotten me, and I need to do the same. For my mental health.

Suddenly, Christian laughs at something the woman says and blushes like he did for me when I sucked his cock. Seeing him like this with someone else makes my stomach churn, so I walk to an empty table, plopping down and folding my arms across my chest. I’ll stay until Bree and Bryan take off and then I’m going to sulk in my hotel room. Maybe I’ll swing by the bar and grab myself a few drinks to take up there with me.

Get plastered and pass out.

Pretend yesterday and this morning never happened.

Today isn’t about me or Christian, anyway. It’s about my friend. So I force myself to smile and eventually get up and decide not to wait. I grab myself a drink, a heavy pour, and don’t waste any time gulping it down. When it’s finally time to eat, Christian makes his way over to my table withher, but I refuse to make eye contact. It’s enough that I have to listen to her dainty laugh and the sweet way she speaks.

And Christian is enamored with her. I can tell by the way he stares at her and the gentle way he speaks.

Sarah. She even has a nice name.

Fuck.

I need to get a grip. He sucked my dick and let me eat his ass, and right now, I’m so goddamn emotional over it, I feel like I’m breaking up with someone.

It’s ridiculous. I’ve never been this way before. Never even cared much for anyone.

But he’s somehow managed to get under my skin in less than twenty-four hours, and it pisses me off.

He leans over and tries to talk to me, to drag me into the conversation with Sarah, but I can’t be bothered with it. So I just give small platitudes and focus on drinking.

When the dancing starts and the cake is served, I find myself at the bar, watching as Christian moves around on the dancefloor like a dork. He has terrible, outdated moves and yet, I can’t look away. He’s so fucking hot, even now.

“Fuck this,” I murmur when Sarah moves into his arms during a slow dance. The two of them are standing at least a foot apart, but still. They look good together and not sexy at all. If that was me dancing with him, I’d be all up on him. I’d have my thigh between his legs and I’d be grinding our bodies together. For all to see.

He’d love it too.

He loves to be owned.

I glance away and finish my drink, slamming it unnecessarily hard on the bar top.

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