Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“Yes,” he growled.
She did it again, and he rewarded her with a lick at her nipple, a thumb on her clit. With torturing, teasing hands, they brought each other to the brink, his eyes on hers the entire time, until finally, when they couldn’t take any more, he wrestled a condom out of his wallet. She didn’t care that it was cliché he carried it with him, didn’t know if he always did or just since they’d started hooking up, and she didn’t care.
Correction, she didn’t want to care. But it was darn hard when he lifted his eyes to her, his gaze dark and intense as he brushed her hair away from her face in a tender gesture that belied their frantic fumbling from moments before.
Kate held her breath, pausing for a drawn-out moment, trying to reclaim her heartbeat. Trying to reclaim her heart.
The realization caused a ripple of fear, and she reached for him, positioning him at the entrance of her body before sinking down, slamming her eyes shut as she did so. He murmured her name, a question on his lips, but she shook her head, her hips moving urgently over his.
Kennedy hesitated a moment longer, then his body made the decision for him, hands greedily moving over her as he lifted her, then pulled her down again, his hips slamming up to meet hers in a furious coupling.
He maneuvered his hand between their bodies, his fingers rubbing just above the spot where they were joined. She cried out, and he joined her at the precipice, thrusting into her hard at the exact moment she clenched around him.
Her orgasm was as turbulent as it was satisfying, and, too weak to do anything else when it was over, she slumped against his shoulder, her breath coming in near sobs.
She’d wanted fast and furious, and she’d gotten it. No tender lovemaking here, just good old-fashioned, no-strings screwing.
But as her heart rate slowed and her breath ceased coming in gasps, she registered . . . him.
The way his arm wrapped around her possessively, his other hand running over her hair in a caress meant to comfort. She felt a single tear run out of the corner of her eye and knew from the way his hand froze for a moment that he felt it hit his shoulder.
But then he resumed his gentle stroking and didn’t ask why she was crying.
She suspected that she didn’t have an answer. Not even for herself.
28
Saturday, June 8
Two weeks later
“You nervous?” Kennedy asked.
It was a rhetorical question. Ian had been pacing around the dedicated “groom’s room” for a solid twenty-three minutes now.
“You know what? Why don’t we revisit that question when you get married, see how you like it,” Ian snapped, putting both hands on top of his head and taking a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m on edge.”
“No worries,” Kennedy said placatingly. He’d had plenty of friends and a brother get married. This wasn’t his first rodeo.
Though he purposely ignored Ian’s mention of his own wedding. Partially because it was hardly the time, but also because that day was seeming a long way off lately.
Kennedy was trying like hell not to get depressed by that fact.
“I was terrified at mine,” Matt said from where he sat backward on a chair, his casual posture completely at odds with his groomsman tux.
“We know,” Kennedy said. “You barfed on your tie. I gave you mine.”
Matt saluted him with his bottle of water. “Thanks for that. Don’t know that Sabrina would have loved me wearing one from the hotel gift shop. Though What Happens in Vegas would have been great in the photos, right?”
“I’m not going to puke.” Ian stopped pacing long enough to pull a curtain aside and look out the window. “I don’t think.”
Kennedy batted his hand away. “Knock it off. You’re not supposed to see the bride.”
“She’s not out there.” Ian glanced at the guys. “Is she? I thought the girls were getting ready in the master bedroom upstairs.”
“They are, but she’s got to come down at some point to get in place for the processional.”
“Processional?” Ian looked at Kennedy.
“Or, you know, whatever. The march.”
“Dude, don’t call it a march,” Matt said, crumpling up his bottle and tossing it in the trash. “Ian, you’ve got to breathe through your nose. Kennedy’s going to be mad if he has to give you his bow tie.”
“Not really,” Kennedy said. “I brought a spare. Big thanks to Lara for letting us wear standard black bow ties instead of having to wear pink, or lavender, or whatever color dresses the bridesmaids are wearing.”
“Champagne,” Ian said, tugging at his collar. “The dress color is apparently champagne.”
Kennedy actually knew that. He’d seen it hanging in Kate’s bedroom earlier that week. Though at the time he’d been so damn relieved that she was letting him in, he hadn’t given two shits about the dress.