Page 15 of Sip
I accept the offer and head his way to do what he wants. Just like I have all my life and now hate both of us for it.
“Killian?”
I throw back the last swallow of booze and ignore my cock straining against my boxer briefs from the sound of Grace’s voice in the corridor. As plastered as I am, I can still get hard for her just like that. I scrub my face, still cognizant enough to understand how perverse wanting to fuck my almost sister-in-law is.
“Killian?”
Worry sharpens her voice. It’s been a long damn time since someone has worried about me. I ease open the office door and step out into the hallway, fucking thrilled to catch another glimpse of the naked back of the woman I’ve only known for twenty-one fucking days and somehow have become obsessed with.
Why in the hell the bride is tasked with finding me, I have no clue. When she twirls around and her magnificent face lights up in a genuine smile ecstatic to see me, all other thoughts but taking her as my own slam into my mind as hard as my thick head.
“There you are!”
She holds out her tiny hand, bejeweled with my brother’s ring, and I jog toward her, accepting her fingers wrapping around mine despite how inappropriate the gesture is with us so exposed to everyone here in the open. Especially after what her sister witnessed between us. Damn.
“We need you for the pictures.”
I need you in my bed. “Sorry. I had to get drunk to survive this.”
Her indulgent laugh mistakenly presumes that I’m kidding. She thinks all my truths are jokes ever since we bonded over running and recycling and red velvet. The fuck?
Scarlett flames across her already flushed cheeks. “What happened earlier…I know it was just nerves…just you…”
Her confidence wanes, and she swallows hard, attempting to bolster herself and continue with her little speech. From the gorgeous vision, I imagine my fingers curled around her dainty throat, holding her breathless while I fuck her mindless. Unable to stop myself, I flatten my hand over her speeding heart and slowly glide up to her neck, relishing her pulse throbbing under my palm. A slight squeeze steals her air, and her luscious pink mouth opens perfectly. For my thumb or my tongue or my cock.
“You…it…it didn’t mean anything.”
Only a whisper asking and telling me. Although neither of us can deny what the answer is. I should lift her dress, impale her on my dick, and let her virgin blood drench me with her goodness. The darkness in her eyes tells me she would let me. She would love me until she hates me for destroying her.
Notes of soft classical music float from the living room. Low and long, the melody the harpist strums signifies the beginning of the end for us. Grace sways in my grasp with slight fingers wrapping around my forearm. I have to let her go. I have to save her from both of us. “Yeah, little pixie girl. That’s right. It meant nothing to me at all.”
The lie hurts and her expression crumbles. Until she remembers she’s supposed to be relieved. “Good. We’re just good, good friends.”
She’s shaking again, despite the radiant smile she plasters on her face. On her beautiful lying face that I want to touch and kiss and taste so fucking bad.
“We better go.”
I allow her to lead me to the living room. Curious gazes flick to our entangled hands as she guides me to the improvised backdrop with the photographer directing members of the family where to stand and how to position their bodies. Fuck them. They don’t know how naïve she is, full of love and tenderness for everyone around her. Including— fuckespecially— those of us who don’t deserve her affection.
The men remain stoic. Not a single one smiles despite the instructions coaxing them to relax and enjoy the moment. Motherfucking Carl, looking like the asshole he is in his wrinkled suit and pale face and swollen nose, keeps his gaze on his shoes.
Skittish and jumpy, Faith offers us a nervous grin. The black eye, covered with a heavy layer of foundation again, still peeks through. No wonder Grace worried about Shane if that’s her expectation of marriage. Luckily, getting smacked around is something she’ll never hate to tolerate. No her brother-in-law being a psycho is the real problem for her to endure.
Despite how wasted I am, Grace’s blazing smile still freaks me out. Without any anxiety at all now from our conversation and decision, she’s too much of an optimist to be afraid of anything else. My gut clenches from the reality she doesn’t seem to understand. We’ll destroy that idealism sooner than she’ll ever expect.
Restless now as I stand next to her, posing for stupid pictures, I shift on my feet, earning the grumble of the photographer who attempts to finish the photos since the ceremony begins in about five minutes.
The woman waves away Shane and her sister. “Now we need the best man and bride.”
I’m over all this forced make cute bullshit, yet when Grace looks up at me with her huge sapphire eyes, imploring me to stay, I fucking stay. I curtail my growl at the woman straightening my tie and focus on Grace. “You look incredible.”
Modest yet stunning with her exposed shoulders and hint of cleavage draw my eye to her sweet round tits. My hands ache to caress her delicate body. Her sugary scent wafts over me as she stretches on tiptoes to kiss my cheek.
“Thank you, Killian.”
Nothing so chaste has ever enticed me more. Before I respond, the flash pops, and I’m yanked back to reality. My brother’s wife. “You’re welcome.”
“You look very handsome. There’s rarely a reason to dress up anymore so I love seeing all of you in morning suits.”
