Page 6 of Accidentally Marrying the Best Man
Lit only by the warm glow of bedside lamps, the space beyond the bed in Nick's enormous bedroom is shrouded in shadows. The faint scent of cedarwood mixes with the subtle floral notes of my perfume, and I feel like I’ve stepped into a half-remembered dream.
I’ve never been in this room. I’ve barely been beyond the entrance of Nick’s house. One time I dropped off some stuff from Jay that he’d left in my car by mistake, and that was a super quick visit. Now I realize I might move in here.
Since Nick wants the total package, I assume we’re going to live together. And my apartment is nice, but it’s not luxurious-large-space nice, like this house.
I sit on the edge of the bed, heart hammering in a way I hadn’t expected on my wedding night. My leg twitches, and if I could reach the floor from this soft king-sized bed, my foot would tap it.
Married to Nick King. Technically, the wrong brother, and yet this feels so right.
Quiet music plays from hidden speakers. Instrumental jazz, I think.
Nick enters the room, fiddling with the collar of his shirt, glancing up at me with those amber, unreadable eyes that always seem to know more than they let on. “You okay?” His voice is rough, but it caresses my skin. Heats it.
I bite my lip, warring with the flood of nerves and yearning that surge through me. “Yeah. I think so.” I tug at the skirt of my dress, suddenly aware that Nick will see me naked tonight. Will he like my body?
And then I realize I’ll see him naked, too, and heat rushes to my pussy. I clench my thighs to keep from whimpering.
He reaches out, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his touch light but deliberate.
“Charlotte,” he says, stepping closer, voice dropping an octave. “We don’t have to rush things. I can wait if you’re not ready to have our wedding night now.”
I swallow hard. For so long I’ve shrouded my feelings for him in sarcasm and distance, afraid to hope, afraid to be seen as more than the girl who’s been around forever but never counted. Now, here he is, close enough to catch the heat in my eyes, the flutter of my pulse, and not retreating. I’m definitely having my wedding night tonight.
“I—” My voice breaks on the word, throat tight. What am I even trying to say? That I’ve loved him since I was thirteen, before I knew the difference between infatuation and love? I hoped the feeling would go away, but every glance, every smile, every laugh he shared with me only bound me closer to him. Even I know that’s too much to share with someone. Too much of an emotional burden. And that’s something I will never be. A burden.
Instead, I lean into the touch he offers.
Nick slides his hand down and cups the side of my face. His thumb brushes lightly over my cheek, warm and steady, grounding me when I feel like I might fall apart.
“I’ve known you forever and yet, it feels like I never knew you at all,” he says, every word deliberate, low.
“You knew me as a girl.”
“But now you’re a woman.”
Heat curls in my stomach. I want to say something smart-alecky, like I usually do when I feel too much around Nick. But the knot in my throat stops me. Instead, I slide my hand up his arm, feeling the taut muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt.
He leans in slower this time, just a ghost of a kiss on my temple, then in the hollow between my ear and jaw. Electric, teasing, and heartbreaking all at once.
“Charlotte,” he murmurs, voice thick with something I can’t identify, “You’re so beautiful. When I walked into that small room and saw you in this dress, my heart stopped for a moment. I’m so turned on right now, I ache for you.”
The honesty surprises me, knocking the breath from my lungs. I swallow hard, the fragile shield I’ve carried for so long falling away piece by piece.
“I want you, too,” I whisper, voice trembling. “And I’m terrified.”
“Good.” His hand moves from my cheek down to grip my waist firmly. “Because the best things in life are worth being terrified over.”
His confidence steadies me, warms me, makes the impossible feel possible. Slowly, carefully, our lips meet—tentative but searching. He tastes like whiskey and the faintest hint of mint, like late nights and laughter I always pretended I didn’t want.
The kiss deepens, urgent yet considerate, as if he knows exactly how much to give without overwhelming me. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, craving the feel of solid warmth against my skin.
His lips leave my mouth and trace the line of my jaw, down my throat, sending jolts of heat down my spine. His touch is everywhere, demanding me to yield.
I close my eyes and let him lead, trusting the way he makes me feel seen, cherished, wanted. Years of dreams and fears unravel, the emotions overwhelming me. My breath hitches as his fingertips tease the sensitive spot at the base of my neck.
“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against my skin. The words feel heavy.
“I—” I hesitate, leaning back, searching his face for clues.
