Page 6 of Always and Forever

I giggle. “Sorry, Lu, my mind was elsewhere.”

Luisa follows my line of sight and sighs. “Yeah, I see exactly where your mind was at. He looks so hot in a suit, Jazz.”

“I know, right?” I reply in a husky voice, loving the way he’s trying to concentrate on my father’s conversation, but like me, is unable to focus on anything other the sexual tension that’s crackling through the air between us.

I watch as he taps my dad on the back, whispers something to him, and begins to walk toward me, utter hunger in his eyes.

“I’m gonna go check on Hawke. I’ll be right back,” Luisa says, but I don’t speak, I just focus on Quill as he gets closer to me.

When he reaches me, he sneaks his hands around my waist and brings one up to the back of my neck. He looks deep into my eyes and whispers, “I love you, babe. You’ve made me one fucking happy man by marrying me today.”

My smile barely has time to form before his lips crash down on mine. I’m loving the way he kisses me, like I’m made of porcelain, so gentle. His tongue sneaks into my mouth and briefly tangles with mine. His scent of sandalwood stirs my senses, and it takes everything in me not to shove his jacket off his broad shoulders and rip his shirt off. I have to remember we’re surrounded by our guests.

He swipes my bottom lip with his tongue before pulling back. I protest with a groan, and his husky laugh surrounds me. “Soon, baby, soon.”

“Ahem, may I have this dance?” Quill and I both look over and find Tristan standing there.

“You came,” I squeal, and run into his arms, nearly knocking him out.

“Whoa, I wasn’t expecting that,” Tristan says as he wraps his arms around me and kisses my forehead.

I look up into his blue eyes and tap his chest. “You said you were moving to a new house this weekend, and couldn’t make it.”

Tristan looks down at me and smiles. “I couldn’t miss my best friend’s wedding now, could I?”

I shake my head. “No, you couldn’t.”

Feeling a hand on my back, I turn around to find Quill smiling at us.

“Hey, man, glad you could make it,” Quill states, holding his hand out to shake Tristan’s. Tristan lets go of me and steps aside to shake Quill’s hand. That was probably Quill’s intention I realize; to get me out of Tristan’s arms. Even though Quill has made peace with the fact Tristan is my good friend—and yes, a male friend—he still doesn’t like the whole situation. I just put it down to his alpha personality, but at least he’s trying.

“Thanks, I hope you guys don’t mind but I brought a date.”

“Date? You never told me that you’re dating. Where is he?”

Tristan spins around and points his finger at a tall, handsome male in a suit, standing by the table with our wedding cake on it. He has long black hair, and I can’t make out his eyes but they look almost yellow. He smiles once Tristan’s facing him, and Tristan crooks his finger at him to come over. He walks over to us, and once he’s close enough Tristan brings him into his side and squeezes him. “Jasmine, Quill, this is Anthony. The love of my life.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Anthony says, leaning in and kissing my cheek, then holding out his hand for Quill to shake. Quill looks at me, then at Anthony’s hovering hand, and I nudge him, silently telling him not to make a scene.

“Thanks for coming, man,” Quill says, finally reaching and shaking it. Quill looks down at me, his eyes clearly saying “What the fuck is going on here?”

I briefly shake my head, then smile up at Anthony. He has a slight Italian accent. “I’m so glad you two could make it. Thank you for coming.”

Tristan smiles and kisses Anthony on his cheek, replying, “Anthony insisted we come, even though it’s a big moving day.”

“Wait,” I say, pointing my finger between them. “You guys are moving in together?”

Tristan smiles then looks over at Anthony, warmth and love radiating from his gaze. “I asked Anthony to move in with me, and he said yes,” Tristan states, keeping his eyes focused on Anthony.

Anthony cups Tristan’s face. “How could I have said not to that face?”

Oh my God, that is so sweet.

I look up at Quill, now standing behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist. He leans in and whispers, “Tristan really is gay?”

I shake my head. “Why? Did you think I was making it up?”

“When it comes to you, babe,” he says, turning me around in his arms and cupping my nape in his large hands, “I’m not taking any chances. No man is going to be close to my wife without me knowing.”

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