Page 15 of A Wulver for the Week

“I don’t mind!” Argh! Truth. I don’t mind, but I don’t want to get put in an awkward situation that we regret.

My mind zips backwards to a few hours ago on the plane. We were snuggled up tight then, fear, nerves, and complimentary alcohol fusing us together. I could smell her heat—a whole jungle of gardenias in a humid mist, like breathing as you walk through the world’s best greenhouse. Her hand brushed my hardness, and she said nothing, but the scent got stronger. I brushed across her breast, and a hard nipple made my cock jump.

“Good. That’s settled. I’m going to have a shower and change. Do you want to go first?”

“Hm? No, no. I’ll sit on the balcony with the book I brought.” I wave a paperback and try not to think about Minnie. Naked. Naked and wet, just behind a door a few feet away.

She disappears, and I let out a long, pent-up sigh. My God. I can’t survive a week of this much sexual tension. I sink onto the bed and collapse, back hitting the soft, supportive mattress covered in an ocean blue comforter. I turn my head, trying to clear my brain—and find myself with my muzzle in Minnie’s ensemble for the night—a gauzy blue sundress with hints of sparkles and spaghetti straps, a strapless bra, and a sheer thong that’s barely the size of my hand.

I bolt to the balcony. I need air.

And a cold shower.

Too bad Minnie’s in there already. Hot. Naked. Soapy.

Fuck, maybe I should just walk out into the ocean...

“YOU LOOK SO HANDSOME!” I pat Craig’s lapel. He’s in a trim gray suit. The slate blues in his tie play off the vivid blues in my dress. He looks good enough to eat.

“You’re a vision. That dress...” Craig steps back and surveys me as I gather my hotel key and tiny evening purse. “You’ll outshine the bride.”

“No way I could do that,” I chuckle. “Ready to cut a rug? If I know my family, there will be an hour of dining and dancing that might last until dawn.”

“I don’t know how to dance anything complicated or with set steps. I suppose I could do a slow number where I lean on you and bury my nose in your hair,” he says with a nervous shrug.

That sounds amazing. I know I shouldn’t be so eager, but I can’t wait until the party’s over and we're back in this room.

Stop that. You’ll be too exhausted to do anything more than sleep. And you’d better stick to your own side of the bed so Craig doesn’t think you’re trying anything.

God, I want to try something...

“Going down?” Craig murmurs against my ear, bending to reach his own key and slide it into his hip pocket.

“Yes! That’d be— Oh, the elevator. Yes, I’m ready.”Please don’t let him ask—

“What did you think I meant?” he chuckles, leading me across the hall to the elevator.

“Nothing!”

Cue the awkward silence. It’s only one floor down, but it’s a long, long ride.

A PROFESSIONAL SQUADRONof photographers and videographers has descended on the hotel. They’re everywhere, posing the bridal party, posing couples, posing families. Candid shots galore. Between the constant flashing and posing and pointed questions from my mother and aunts, I can’t enjoy my swordfish or talk to Craig. Poor guy. He’s getting the thirddegree from my father. I’m relieved when Grandpa Barty ushers in a live band and dancing starts.

“If this is just the welcome dinner, I cannae imagine the wedding!” Craig whispers.

“I know! It’s crazy. Was my dad giving you a hard time?”

“No more than a congressional hearing,” he laughs.

It’s such a warm, mellow sound. He’s such a warm person. Am I a fool to throw away a beautiful new friendship because I want something more? I don’t know.

I lean against his chest, and we sway. “My mother was cross-examining me, too. Everything from my career to my dwindling childbearing years was up for grabs.”

“You’re stressed. Stiff like a stick, love.”

“Maybe I’ll get a massage tomorrow during the spa day.”

“Tomorrow is the beach day. I’ll give you a massage if you like. I took a physical therapy course, you know.”

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