In the end, though, Jessie and Smitty had little to say about the entire event. Momma, Sabina, and May had taken over, the three of them getting along like they’d known each other for the past century. They went mostly for traditional except they couldn’t have groomsmen or bridesmaids. Sissy and Ronnie Lee had every intention of standing up with him. Phil and Danny with Jess. They ended up with the more politically correct “grooms-people” and “bridespeople.” Smitty still thought it sounded ridiculous, but he was glad his sister would be with him while he stood there in this stupid monkey suit waiting for the torture to end.
Mace, not surprisingly, was his best man, but Jess couldn’t and wouldn’t decide between May and Sabina. So both would be her matrons of honor, although they hated the “matron” thing. Said it made them feel old.
Lord, he just wanted this thing over with.
He rounded one of the giant bushes dotting the property and Smitty smiled when he saw Jessie Ann sitting on one of the white stone benches. She leaned back, her hands propping her up. Her face lifted to catch the bright afternoon summer sun, her eyes closed.
She wore her wedding gown and looked beautiful in it. She had two. This one would be for the ceremony, styled after some medieval gown she saw in a movie. Only his Jessie Ann. The other, which would be easier to move and dance around in, was a sexy little strapless number he told her to buy.
Smitty didn’t worry about seeing the bride before the wedding. True, he could be a superstitious man when necessary, but at the same time he didn’t really believe in marriage. No piece of paper would make him any more committed to his Jessie Ann. The woman meant everything to him. Absolutely everything.
And last Thursday, when they woke up and realized she’d gotten pregnant the night before, everything became perfect…and just the beginning.
He sat down next to her and kissed her cheek. “Hey, darlin’.”
“Hey.” She opened her eyes and smiled at him.
“Couldn’t take it, huh?”
“All the fussing…and the crying.”
“Who? Momma?”
“Are you kidding? That woman is a Marine. Ordering everybody around. Keeping everybody in line. It’s been quite a sight to see. And Sissy Mae looks like she’s a few hours away from going after her with one of your team’s guns.”
“If there’s one thing my momma knows how to do it’s push Sissy’s buttons.”
“She wasn’t pushing, Smitty. It was much more of a stabbing Sissy’s buttons.” Jess smiled. “I’ve really been enjoying it.”
“If Momma’s not crying, who is?”
“Ronnie Lee.”
“You’re kidding?” he demanded on a laugh.
“I wish I was, but that woman is balling like a baby. I couldn’t take it; I had to go before I punched her.”
“I’m sure Sissy punched her after you left.”
“That I believe. She looked pretty fed up between Ronnie Lee and your mother.”
He leaned back on the stone bench, his hands braced to keep him up, just like Jessie Ann.
“Tell me again this is almost over,” she practically begged.
“It’s almost over, darlin’. Tonight we go on our honeymoon, and I have every intention of fucking you silly. Startin’ on the plane.”
“Sweet talker.”
“How are you feeling otherwise?”
“A little cranky.”
“I’m guessing it’s going to be that way until she’s here.”
“Well, I remember my mom telling me that when she was pregnant she glowed and was unbelievably happy.” Jessie squinted at him, the sun full in her eyes. “But my daddy said she was a liar.”
They laughed, and Jessie added, “So buckle up, cowboy. It looks like it’s going to be a wild ride.”
“And I can’t wait.”
“You always were a glutton for abuse.”
Smitty rested his head against Jessie’s. As different as they were, he always felt right when she was around. Centered. Without even trying, she made his life so much better and it hadn’t been that bad in the first place.
“Explain to me how I’m supposed to get through the next six hours.”
At first Smitty didn’t really hear her, too busy nuzzling her neck and kissing her cheek. She always smelled so damn good.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“I’m trying to figure out how I’m supposed to get through the next few hours.”
They looked at each other at the same time and, after a good three minutes of mutual staring, they shook their heads and moved to opposite ends of the bench.
“We can’t,” she said.
“You’re right,” Smitty said, even as his cock begged him to argue with her.
“You have to be in there in, like, what? Ten more minutes?”
“Somethin’ like that.”
“And then the whole thing starts in another half an hour with my dumb butt walking down the aisle.”
“Right.”
“So we’ll just have to wait. It’s no big deal. It’s like an hour.”
“Right.”
She stared up at the trees for a while until she finally said, “But you know, there’s all the toasts and the dinner and the dancing and the photographs, and it’s not like we’ll actually have any time alone for quite a while.”
“That’s true.”
She grabbed his hand. “That’s asking too much of me.” She yanked him off the bench with a strength he had no idea she possessed and dragged him behind the bushes. She slammed him up against a tree; then her hands were making real short work of his pants.
“Jessie Ann—”
“You’re not going to stop me, are you?” she snarled, her brown eyes burning into his. “I’m a pregnant female predator. The most dangerous animal on the planet. Give me what I want or I’ll show you how dangerous I really am.”
He’d never had a woman tell him how much she wanted him in such an artful way before.
“No, no. Not going to stop you, just thinking we need to watch out for your dress or I’ll never hear the end of it from the nightmare trio.” Their nickname for Momma, Sabina, and May.
“Good point.” She yanked up her dress to get it out of her way. “I’d give anything to be in my jeans,” she muttered.
“Nice shoes, darlin’.”
She lifted up her foot so he could get a better look. Another pair of gorgeous “hooker shoes.” Five-inch heels with thick white laces that strapped around her ankle and up her calf.
“You like? Phil picked ’em out for me.”
“That boy’s got some interesting ways about him.” He’d learned to tolerate Jessie’s relationship with Phil and Danny. They were simply too weird for Smitty to see them as a valid threat.
“I don’t question Phil and Sabina’s male–female dynamic. They’re happy and he dresses me in the best clothes—that’s all that counts.” She unzipped his pants, and as she pushed them down to his ankles she glanced at the dog and said, “Go keep watch.”
And Shit-starter did just that. Yup. She had a way with canines.
Her hand wrapped around his cock and Smitty let out a sigh, his head dropping back against the tree. “Damn, girl.”
She leaned in and nipped his neck. “Bobby Ray, don’t make me wait.”
He had no intention of it. That would be later. When they were on that little island out in the Pacific somewhere. Just the two of them, the dog, and lots of prey. Then he’d tie her to the bed and make her wait for hours. Oh, yeah. He had some serious plans for their honeymoon.
But at the moment, the only thing they both had on their minds was fulfilling their needs before they had to put on this dog-and-lion show. So Smitty tore off her panties and slid his hands up and under her legs, lifting her until he had her at the right angle. He slid his cock inside her and Jessie let out that moan that drove him absolutely crazy while she wrapped her arms around his neck, gripping him tight. She braced those shoes against the tree
and squeezed her muscles until his eyes crossed. He gripped her ass hard, pulling her in snug against him. They kissed, tongues teasing, breaths mingling, as he used his hands to rock her back and forth on his cock. He didn’t rush it. Didn’t want to. This had to last them for a while.
Jessie gasped, her body stiffening. Her legs shaking as she came hard. She sobbed into his mouth, dragging him with her when her spasming muscles locked around his cock like a vise.
He shot hard into her, everything draining from his body into hers. Then, weak and sated, they held on to each other for long, long minutes until they heard Shit-starter bark, followed by the words, “I knew you two were up to this.”
Smitty dropped Jessie’s dress to cover her ass, but he loved the fact she didn’t jump anymore when his mother came out of nowhere.
Panting, they looked at her and she smiled.
“Everybody’s looking for you. You’re already ten minutes late.”
“We are?” Jessie asked, shocked. She looked at her wrist and saw only the bracelet Smitty had given her on her birthday. “Shit. I forgot my watch again.” She frowned in thought. “I think I threw it at somebody’s head.”
“Well,” his momma cut in, “we don’t have time to look for it now. That preacher looks fit to be tied.”
“We’ll be along in a minute, Momma.”
“All right. I’ll try and stall. Shouldn’t be too hard. That preacher’s been checking my ass out for the past two hours.”
Jessie buried her face in his neck and giggled quietly out of respect for—and most likely some fear of—his mother.
When he knew they were alone again, he lifted her chin and smiled. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
“Come on, woman. Let’s legally make you a Smith.”
Smiling, Jessie said, “You know, Smitty, I’m never sure if that’s a promise or a threat.”
He shrugged. “It’s a little bit of both, I suppose.”
And Smitty let out a prayer of thanks when she laughed, kissed his cheek, and went through with the wedding anyway.
Tensions mount in
DON’T TEMPT ME,
the latest from Sylvia Day,
available now from Brava…
“What game are you playing?” he asked gruffly.
“I was staring,” she admitted, turning to face him. She appreciated having the light behind her, which shielded her features in shadow while revealing the whole of his. “But then, every woman here was doing the same.”
“But you are not just any woman, are you?” he growled, coming toward her.
So…he knew who she was. That surprised her. Her mother had insisted they hide their identities. They stayed with a friend instead of at their own property and were using an assumed surname. Her mother said it would prevent her father from becoming angry with them for deviating from their stated destination—Spain. She would have agreed to anything in order to come to Paris. In all of her life, her family had never visited here.
But then…If Quinn knew her true identity, why would he pull her away from the festivities in such a public manner?
“You approached me,” she pointed out. “You could have kept your distance.”
“I am here because of you.” He caught her elbows and jerked her roughly into him. “If you had stayed out of mischief for a few days longer, I would have been far from France now.”
She frowned. What was he talking about? She would have asked if he had not placed his hands on her. No man had ever been so bold as to accost the daughter of the Vicomte de Grenier. She could hardly believe Quinn had done it, but she could not jerk away because the sensations elicited by his proximity stunned her. He was so hard, like stone. She could not have expected that.
As her breathing quickened, she felt herself sway into him, her chest pressing into his. It was madness. He was a stranger and he seemed to be angry.
But she felt safe with him, regardless.
For a long taut moment Quinn did not move. Then he yanked her toward the window, impatiently pushing the sheer curtain aside so the moonlight touched her face. With a tug of his fingers, he untied the ribbons of her mask and it fell away, leaving her exposed. She suddenly felt naked, but not nearly naked enough. She felt a reckless, goading need to strip off every article of clothing while he watched. It was heady to be the focus of such heated, avid interest from so handsome a man.
He loomed over her, scowling, his mouth set in a grim line. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he snapped.
She swallowed hard. “Like what?”
Quinn made an aggravated noise, dropped the curtain, and caught her about the waist. “As if you want me in your bed.”
Mon Dieu, what did one say to that?
“You are…very attractive, Mr. Quinn.”
“‘Mr. Quinn,’ is it?” he purred, his large hands cupping her spine, making her feel tiny and delicate. Conquered. “I always knew you were mad.”
Her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips and he froze, his gaze burning.
“What game are you playing?” he asked again. This time, she heard something else in his tone. Something darker. Undeniably arousing.
“I-I think we are both c-confused,” she said.
He moved, cupping the back of her neck and the side of her hip, melding her body with his. “I’m bloody well confused, curse you.” He tugged, forcing her spine to arch, leaning over her so that she had no leverage to move.
Every inhale was his exhale. Every movement was an enticement, their bodies sliding against each other in a wanton dance. She felt a fever in her blood, a conflagration that had started with that first smoldering glance in the ballroom.
“Do you want to be fucked?” he purred, his head lowering so that his lips touched her jaw. The caress was divine and wicked at once, making her shiver with delighted apprehension. “Because you are begging for it, witch, and I am insane enough in this moment to indulge you.”
“I-I…”
Quinn turned his head and kissed her, hard, his lips mashing against hers. There was no finesse, no tenderness. Her mouth was bruised by his volatility and ardor. She should have been frightened. He seemed barely leashed, his emotions swaying from irritation to consuming desire.
She whimpered, her hands fisting in his jacket to keep him close. Enamored with the taste of him, she licked his lips and he groaned, his hips grinding restlessly into her. She surrendered weakly and he gentled his approach, seemingly soothed by her capitulation.
“Tell me what you are involved in,” he murmured, his teeth nipping at her swollen lower lip.
“You,” she breathed, tilting her head to deepen the contact.
Don’t miss Dianne Castell’s
HOT AND BOTHERED,
out this month from Brava…
His neck snapped as someone grabbed his tie and yanked him inside the carriage house, the dark interior making it impossible to see who did the yanking.
“What the…!” he gasped as the wood door clicked closed. He stumbled, his body flattening a woman’s against the wall, giving him a soft landing that made the choking worth it. He caught the faint aroma of coffee and doughnuts as breasts swelled against his chest, his body reacting as if he hadn’t had sex in months. Hell, maybe he hadn’t. “Charlotte?” he croaked through a shrinking trachea.
“We need to talk.”
“Wish I could.” He loosened his tie and gave a quick glance around the narrow hall, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. “Consider using a telephone?”
“Someone might overhear and I know you don’t want that, and I was heading for my house to change and I saw you coming and…” She took a deep breath, her face scrunched in question as she peered up at him. “So why did you really come to the office?”
“The will? The missing daughter? Keeping things quiet? Stop me if you’ve heard this before. You sure you didn’t whack your head when you fell off that chair?”
Her breath came fast and was getting faster. Her eye w
as lit with fire, he could tell even in the dim light. “Why me?” she whispered, the implication having nothing to do with the case but with the two of them together now in this hallway after all these years of dancing around.
His brain refused to function, probably because the part of his anatomy below his belt was over-functioning. “You run an ad in the yellow pages.” Maybe. He had no idea about anything right now except Charlotte and wanting to kiss her and knowing he shouldn’t. Things between them were complicated—always had been and getting worse by the minute. He studied her delicious mouth, wanting and waiting for his. Make that getting more complicated by the second, and if his plan worked, complicated would be a huge understatement and their lives would be totally fucked.
He touched Charlotte’s cheek, her skin soft and smooth, as her body leaned into his, setting him on fire.
“We don’t have an ad.” She bit her bottom lip. “You’re right, I should have phoned,” she said with a shiver. “But we’re here now.” She yanked his tie again, bringing his face to hers, and she kissed him right on the mouth, her lips full and moist and delicious and opening. Did they have to open? Closed lips were a lot easier to dismiss, but this was not a dismiss, kind of kiss especially since he’d wanted it for so many damn years, he’d lost count.
She released his tie, her arms sliding around his neck as his tongue touched hers and he lost his mind. Dumbass!
Their tongues mated, and his hands dropped to her sweet round bottom, pressing her softness to his hardening dick. There’d always been an attraction between them, but this was pure jump-her-bones-and-do-her-right-now lust…and he liked it more than he ever imagined.
She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, the motion suggestive as hell as her legs parted, nesting his erection tight against her heat. God, she had great heat! He slid his hands into the waistband of her skirt, her firm rump fitting so well into his palms. His mind warped, there was a ringing sound…no kiss or ass-grabbing had ever made his head ring before, especially to the tune of “Moon River”—a Johnny Mercer song—his favorite. Ah fuck! His cell!