Page 2 of You Are Cordially Invited

And oh man, those fucking jeans were crippling me.

I squirmed, and Reuben groaned and grabbed my hips. “You really, really need to sit still.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.” I tilted my head to give him more room as he trailed kisses up my throat. “Jesus, Rube, you’re killing me here. I think my cock just origamied itself into a swan.”

“Flirty whore, thirty-four,” Carmen’s voice blared through the room and I jerked up on Reuben’s lap, eyeballing him accusingly.

“You’re deliberately distracting me from winning.” I grabbed my bingay card and waved it in his beautiful face, caught for a moment by the light bouncing off the darker specks in his silver eyes.

He leaned forward and rubbed noses with me, a thing he loved to do as often as he could.

“For fuck’s sake, would you two cut it out?” Mathew griped from the other side of the table. “Show some respect to those of us who have to watch you with a belly full of whatever the fuck Michael put in these lethal drinks. I figure I’ll be making their reacquaintance long before breakfast at this rate. I’m gonna crash and die at training this week, God help me.”

“Which reminds me.” I waved the bingay card at Mathew instead, and the sucker flew out of my hand.

Reuben snatched it from mid-air like the star number fifteen he was and put it safely on the table.

“Nice hands.” I smirked, which made Reuben snort and brought those cute-as-fuck dimples to the fore.

Then I returned my glare to my brother. “I knew it was a mistake to leave organising the bachelor party unsupervised to yourcommittee.” I cranked my fingers around the offending word. “Whose idea was it to put our good doctor in charge of the damn bar? You’re my brother and best man, Mathew, for fuck’s sake. Did you lose your collective minds?”

“Okay, so yes, that was my idea,” Mathew admitted. “I mean, Michael doesn’t drink, right? I figured it made sense to have someone sober in charge of the alcohol. Josh and Georgie had no problem with it.”

We turned as one to where Michael was shaking his booty behind the bar and exchanging cocktail shakers through the air with the official club bartender, cheered on by Georgie and Josh’s sister, Katie.

“Yeah, okay.” Mathew chuckled. “So that might’ve been a mistake.”

“Ya think?” I crashed back against Reuben and elbowed him in the ribs. “I hope someone warned the ER. And that’s your best woman up there in the middle of that mayhem, by the way.”

Reuben grinned, watching Georgie shamelessly egg Michael on. “I know. Great, right? You can’t blame me for that. Katie is Georgie’s friend as well. And Georgie makes a mean mojito. That girl has some serious bartending skills herself.”

She did. And I loved her to bits. She’d been pretty much the only friend in Reuben’s life keeping his head above water before I came along. I owed her a life debt for that one thing alone.

Reuben chuckled in my ear. “Come on, admit it. It’s a good party.”

I took in all the happy faces of our friends and family and smiled. It was. “Yeah, okay, you guys did a pretty good job, considering.”

“Jesus, how did that feel coming out?” Mathew’s lips curved up into that gorgeous smile that kept most of Auckland’s female rugby supporters in need of fresh underwear and a few of the men as well.

“Like camel turd,” I admitted. “And no, you can’t ask me how I know that.”

He snorted. “Well, it was lucky we had Josh. Those are two of his police mates on paparazzi and social media duty—collecting all the cell phones.”

I glanced to the two buff off-duty cops on the door. “Yeah, that was inspired. And I’ll admit the double party bus pick-up with an open bar and night tour was an awesome kick-off.” I narrowed my gaze. “But the pass-the-cock-under-the-chin dildo exchange around the room was definitely a bridge too far.”

He laughed me off because we both knew it had been hilarious. And when the All Blacks’ prop Tom MacDonald had dropped it on his lap and the Blues’ winger had to retrieve it without using his hands, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

“I’m also reserving judgement on the bingay,” I told him. “Carmen’s in wonderful and disreputable form tonight. She’s taking no prisoners, and I’m not sure the All Blacks in the crowd are sufficiently equipped.”

“Getting plenty, number twenty.” Carmen fanned her face, her bright red talons flashing.

I rolled my eyes. “I rest my case.”

“And let me assure you, my hunky boys,plentyis putting it mildly.” She gave a predatory grin. “But Ialwayshave room for more.” Her gaze hovered over the dozen or so beefy professional rugby players whose schedules had allowed them to come. Nearly all seemed to be having the time of their lives, although a few had spent the first thirty minutes of the party looking as if they were single-handedly facing down an entire South African front row.

Carmen could do that to you.

“Particularly you, sugar.” Carmen winked at Gary Knowles, the All Blacks’ coach—a surprise guest whose appearance had Reuben beaming all night.

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