Plus One Love: The Wedding Party Series

5. Micah

Fuck,she’s amazing. My heart thumps to an increased tempo as I watch her laugh at something one of the men, in the group she’s with, says. A growl builds in my chest as a feeling of protectiveness like I’ve never felt before rushes through me, making me breathless. My hands form fists at my side as I try to keep from rushing across the room to wrap her up in my arms.

I thought this morning on the beach had been bad, with her in her bikini, revealing the perfect body—a little bit of softness to pad her muscles, so there’s no mistaking her for anything but a woman—to those who were out, enjoying the sun and the water with us. But that had only been a small group, nothing like the size of crowd here for the supper before tomorrow’s nuptials.

“You’ve got yourself a smart, little princess there. Did you use one of those collegiate sugar daddy sites? I’ve heard great things about them and if she’s representative of what’s available then I’m definitely game. I want one who’s sexy, a little crazy in bed, and who can string more that two coherent sentences together.”

I turn and glare at Samuel, the father of the groom and owner of our biggest competitor. He arrived earlier today with wife number five on his arm. A woman who looked like she graduated from high school yesterday and only because someone else took her tests. His son hadn’t been too happy when he saw his latest step-mommy, a full decade younger than him. “She’s not from one of those sites. She’s a friend, top graduate of Wharton with an MBA in two different areas of concentration.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So you’re not sleeping with her?”

“I’m not,” I protest a little too vigorously because they’re nothing more that I want than to do just that. Sleeping beside her in bed the previous night had been a torture exercise. With her scent wrapped around me, and the little sighs she made, I was rock solid. But when she turned to me, placing her hand on my biceps as she fell into a deeper sleep… I nearly lost the plot. Every muscle in my body tensed, not wanting her to move, but at the same time, screaming at her to move… closer, farther away, I didn’t know which I wanted. And then to wake up this morning, with her pert little ass snugged up against my hardness and my thumb brushing the underside of her breast… well, I jumped out of bed, not caring what time it was, and headed directly for a cold shower, reminding myself over and over again that she was only a few years older than Mason. A child.

He grins as he rubs his hands together. “Good. Then I’m going to go introduce myself. Who knows, maybe she’ll be wife number six, because number five will be out the door soon.”

Fuck-it-y, fuck, fuck. I want to tear my hair out in frustration. I want to run over to Amy and sweep her up into my arms, keeping all the other males away from her. I want to, shit, I want to drop onto my knees in front of her, lift her dress high enough for my head to fit under, and then worship her like the goddess she is until her muscles can’t keep her upright.

But I do nothing. Nothing, because there’s nothing I can do. She’s an adult as much as I want to think of her as a child. She’s accomplished and she deserved to make every business contact that she can. And like it or not, Samuel is a major player—in all senses of the word—in our world.

I have nothing to worry about. She’s brilliant. She’ll see right through him, right?

I find myself edging closer so I can hear their interaction. A glutton for punishment is what I am. Mom always told me my curiosity was both a blessing and a curse when she found me stuck in one of our air vents as a young teen. I’d been wanting to know what the chauffeurs were talking about when they made plans to run a train on one of the new, young housekeepers. An embarrassing moment when I was caught by her with my pants around my ankles, cock swollen and stiff, while I was stuck in an air vent.

“Amy, what a beautiful name. And a Wharton grad, I’ve been told, proving that beauty and brains do go together. I’m Samuel Nightgate, owner of Nightgate Shipping. A pleasure to meet you.” Samuel brings her hand to his lips, kissing each finger before flipping her hand over so he can kiss her palm.

My vision turns red. She’s my plus one. Mine.

I push through the crowd to reach her side, wrapping my arm around her waist. To my surprise—and joy—she melts into me, pulling her hand back from Samuel.

She turns to me, beaming as she meets my gaze. “There you are Micah. I was wondering where you’d gotten off to. Have you Erik and Joseph. They own a ship repair yard in Sweden. And of course, you know Mr. Nightgate.”

I wink at her and without thinking, I lean down and press a kiss to the tip of her nose which she thankfully lets me get away with before I turn to greet Erik and Joseph. These were two of the people on my list to meet and charm, something I hadn’t been able to do all year. But within hours, not only has she met and talked to them, but they have her calling them by their first names. Something I don’t think anyone has ever been able to accomplish with these two reclusive businessmen. My wonderment and awe of Amy continues to grow.

And with my arm wrapped around her, my hand stroking the soft skin of her hip in the peek-a-boo dress she’s wearing, I’m finding my earlier arguments about why I need to stay away…weak.

We talk for a little longer as the other guests mingle around us. And when our discussion falls to business, Amy proves her worth again, making insightful comments and bridging the desires I have with those of Erik and Joseph on how to expand our respective businesses while working together. But when the DJ starts to play dance music, Amy excuses herself for a quick bathroom break, after extracting a promise from me to dance with her.

As we watch her walk away, Erik elbows me in the ribs. “Don’t let that one get away. If I weren’t already taken”—he turns his heated gaze on Joseph who winks back at him—“I’d be fighting you for her. My eyebrows rise and he scoffs even as his body tenses. “Don’t tell me your delicate sensibilities are ruffled because Joseph and I are together.”

My mouth drops. “What? No! Not that. It’s not about you and Joseph. I’m just surprised that you don’t think she’s too young?”

Joseph steps closer, wrapping an arm around Erik. “Not at all. Things like age, sex, they don’t matter in love. And when you find that love, you need to grasp it tight and hold onto it, never letting it go.”

“Because,” Erik adds, “you never know how long you’ll have it for or if you’ll get a second chance if you push it away.”

The look they share is so soft and sweet, but filled with a meaning I don’t understand, letting me know there’s a story behind their words. A story I desperately want to know, but seeing Amy walk back into the room and Samuel making a beeline towards her, I know the story will need to wait. I need to go dance with my girl.

Or at least pretend she’s my girl. It’s like the saying about Vegas. Whatever happens there, stays there. It can be the same here, right?