Page 11 of Coupled (Alphas Forever 3)

Ethan

That week is one of the best of my life. I feel like the luckiest man alive to get to be with Samantha. After our Tuesday night romp, she comes over the following nights, too, and by Friday night, we’ve had sex all over my apartment—including in the shower and on the kitchen counter. It’s kind of ridiculous how many times we fuck, actually—it’s almost feels as if we have to get all we can in while we can.

I have no intention of ending this anytime soon, though. As the night goes on, I feel more and more certain of one thing: she’s the one for me. Every time I make her come, I want to hear that sound over and over again for the rest of my life.

Then it’s Saturday, the night before the wedding, and we aren’t able to see each other—I have to go to John’s bachelor party and she has her sister’s bachelorette party. Honestly, I kind of wish I could skip the whole thing. I love John like a brother, but he has decided he wants to go to a strip club for his bachelor party, and it’s just not my thing. It’s one of those classier joints, but still. I’m really not interested in any women except for Samantha, even if it’s just for fun. That night, as the scantily-clad girls twirl around their poles and do their thing, I have to fake my enthusiasm. Luckily, they mostly pay attention to John, who is having the time of his life. As we’re leaving the strip club, I give him a hearty slap on the back and say to him, “Well, dude? Did you get that all out of your system?”

He grins and me and says, “Sure did. And hopefully Cara did, too.”

“Huh?”

“They hired a male stripper for her bachelorette party. Didn’t you hear them talking about that?”

Instantly, I feel protective, thinking about some random dude grinding on Samantha's lap. I know it’s just a stupid tradition, but still. I hate the image.

After getting home, I text Samantha. How was the stripper?

She texts me back after a few minutes. I should be asking you the same question :)

All I could think about was you, I tell her.

Aw, she writes back.

I want to tell her how I really feel about her—how I want to spend the rest of my life with her. But right now isn’t the right time. And it’s definitely not something to tell her over text.

Then an idea comes to me. I know what to do.

It will be goddamn perfect.

* * *

The next morning,the sight of Samantha in her bridesmaid dress takes my breath away. She’s already so gorgeous to begin with, but when those curves of hers are hugged by a dress, and she puts heels on, and has her hair done up, she looks almost angelic.

“You’re beautiful, Samantha,” I tell her.

She beams at me. “You don’t look too bad yourself in that tux.”

Soon, it’s time for the ceremony to begin. Those of us in the wedding party line up and wait for the signal to head down the aisle. When it’s time for Samantha and I to go, I hold out my arm, and Samantha slips hers through it. We exchange a smile and then start walking down the aisle together, everyone’s smiling faces watching us.

God, I wish so badly that this was our wedding day. I wish that we were walking down the aisle to become husband and wife.

It’s not our big day, though. Not yet. Right now, it’s about Cara and John. As I let go of Samantha’s arm and we take our places on either side of the altar, I force myself to give my attention over to the real bride and groom.

* * *

After the ceremony,and after taking group photos, we all find our seats in the reception room. As the maid of honor and best man, Samantha and I both give toasts to the new bride and groom, and then a delicious meal follows.

It’s getting close to the time to perform the surprise group dance, so I glance over and check on Samantha at the other end of the table. I see that she’s barely touched her dinner. She must be too nervous to eat. I know she knows the steps now, but she’s probably feeling overwhelmed by having to perform them in front of everyone here.

I excuse myself and go over to her. I lean down and whisper in her ear, “You doing okay?”

She looks up at me. “Not really.”

I slip my hand into hers. “Come on.”

I lead her away from the table, and out of the room, and into one of the private rooms in back. She looks at me questioningly.

“What are we doing?” Samantha asks.

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