Chapter 25
FORD
My wife was the hottest fucking thing in this room, and I was seriously starting to worry about the side effects of walking around with a hard-on for hours on end.
We’d sat through the boring-ass ceremony, choked down a bland dinner, and now were suffering through part of the dance.
And that entire time, I’d been playing with our new toy.
Whether Quinn was sitting right next to me as she had been during the ceremony and dinner, or was across the room chatting with someone as she was now, it didn’t matter.
I’d lost count of how many times I’d turned it on.
How many times I’d gotten her to the brink of coming, only to turn it off and leave her shaking with need.
I couldn’t tell if she loved or hated it.
Her horny eyes looked shockingly similar to her murder eyes, which was only making things worse for me because they both turned me the fuck on.
Thank Christ I had a suit jacket to hide exactly how much I was enjoying this, because I really hadn’t thought this through.
I should’ve known better. Should’ve known I’d be rock fucking hard witnessing Quinn’s reaction to every flick of my finger.
How she’d shift in her seat, stutter midsentence, or grip the back of a chair, head hanging, as if she was trying to hold herself upright.
How her hand shook as she lifted a glass to her lips, her horny murder eyes locked on mine from across the room while I tormented us both.
But now… Now, the countdown was on. We’d put in our time, made our appearances, and I was ready to take my wife home and fuck her until we both tapped out.
Hell, I wasn’t even sure we’d make it home.
Maybe we’d just get as far as the parking lot.
She could ride me right there in the front seat of the Jeep.
She’d be so wet from being edged all night that I’d be able to slide right in, even while she was wearing the vibe.
With the added thickness it provided and the buzz directly against her clit, she’d be coming in seconds, and I wouldn’t be far behind.
My cock throbbed at the thought, and yeah… It was time to drag my wife out of here, whether or not I’d actually spoken to Chelsea. I didn’t even know if she’d seen me and Quinn tonight. And I found I just…didn’t care.
Not when I knew exactly what the rest of my night was going to consist of. Not when I knew who was waiting to go home with me.
I started toward Quinn across the room, my steps only speeding up when that fucking groomsman sidled up next to her at the bar.
Again. He’d already asked her to dance, which she’d politely declined.
Then not-so-politely excused herself when I’d turned on the vibrator just to make a point.
And now this fucker was back for more? Not on my watch.
I ignored calls of my name and those trying to talk to me, my attention focused solely on my wife.
She had on her I’m not interested in your bullshit face—a face I fucking loved, by the way—and this guy wasn’t taking the hint.
Finally, after shaking her head three different times and saying no at least twice, she turned around and walked away while he was in the middle of talking.
Jesus Christ, I loved that woman.
My steps faltered as the thought slammed into me. I stood frozen in the middle of the reception hall, eyes locked on where Quinn had disappeared, my thoughts consumed by her. Though that wasn’t anything new. I couldn’t remember a time I hadn’t been consumed by her, but this felt different.
Heavier.
Real .
Fuck me. I was in love with my wife.
Though was it really all that much of a surprise?
Like Beck constantly reminded me, this thing between us had been building inside me for more than half my life.
I shouldn’t have been shocked that this was how it had manifested itself.
Especially now when I’d spent these past several weeks learning her, inside and out.
Learning to love every single part of her.
That complicated things infinitely, especially when I had no idea what she was feeling.
No idea if this had become real for her, or if she was still pretending.
I thought back over the past month, how she’d been with me…
opening up and letting me in in ways I wasn’t sure she’d ever done before.
If she was pretending, she was a hell of an actress.
I needed to find her. Needed to look into her eyes and see if I could get a read on if she felt any of this, too.
But first, I had to make a quick detour.
“Hey,” I said, leaning my elbow on the bar next to the asshat who wouldn’t take no for an answer.
He glanced over, brows drawn down. “Yeah?”
“You know that woman who keeps turning you down?”
He snorted. “Whatever, man. She’s a bitch. Acting like she’s too good for me.”
“Watch your fucking mouth when you talk about my wife.” My voice was hard even as I smiled and nodded to someone who waved at me from across the room.
“She is too good for you. And if you bother her again, we’re gonna have a problem.
She’s a doctor, so she won’t punch you right in your smug mouth, but I don’t have any such hang-ups.
We clear?” Without waiting for him to respond, I clapped him on the back—hard enough that he choked on his drink—and set off to find Quinn.
I strode down the hallway she’d disappeared into, slowing as I heard voices coming from around the corner.
“—can’t believe he actually showed up. And he’s married to her. Pathetic, especially when he could’ve had me.” Snorts of laughter followed, and I’d recognize that nasally cawing anywhere. Fucking Chelsea.
Considering I no longer gave two shits what my ex had to tell herself about my marriage or what she thought about my being here, I was about to turn around and head in the other direction in search of my wife when her voice pulled me up short.
“God, you really are a bitch, aren’t you?”
“Ex cuse me?”
“You’re a bitch,” Quinn said, like she was stating that two plus two equaled four.
“I don’t usually like to call women that, but I feel okay making an exception in your case.
You were a mean girl in high school, and you’re still a mean girl now.
Is your life seriously that unfulfilling that you get this much pleasure from tearing people down? ”
“Who even invited you into this conversation?” Chelsea snapped.
“Well, it’s my husband you’re talking about, so…you. And I’ll save you the trouble of trying to figure out why Ford could possibly have moved on from you since I know brains aren’t your strong suit,” Quinn said, her voice saccharine sweet. “It’s your personality, sweetie.”
A few shocked gasps sounded, and I grinned, shuffling forward quietly as I peered around the corner, desperate for a peek at my wife, the badass. Quinn’s back was to me as she faced off with Chelsea, who stood surrounded by her bridesmaids.
My ex’s face was bright red, her lips pressed in a thin line. “Whatever. You can have my sloppy seconds. I moved on to someone better. Thank God I cut that dead weight back in high school because he hasn’t amounted to anything. You’re just too desperate to see it.”
My jaw ticked, anger flooding me, but not for the reason I would’ve thought. Turned out, I no longer gave a shit what she thought of me, but I’d be damned if I sat back and let her talk about my wife that way.
But before I could take a single step forward and put an end to this, Quinn snapped back at Chelsea. “What I see is a washed-up prom queen who’s mad her ex moved on and found someone else—someone who doesn’t have to count using her fingers.”
I watched as all the bridesmaids’ mouths dropped open, and I had to smother a laugh. Damn. My kitten’s claws were sharp tonight, and that shit was making me hard.
Chelsea fisted her hands at her sides, her face turning a mottled red. “You—”
“I’m not done,” Quinn cut in, waving a hand through the air, the light glinting off her wedding band.
“I’m going to try to explain this to you using small words so you can understand—Ford’s a firefighter.
That means he saves people’s lives for a living.
He’s a literal hero. Your husband sells used cars, so how about we stop throwing stones when we live in glass houses, m’kay? ”
I didn’t know what was hotter—that Quinn had my back without hesitation or that she stood up for herself to a woman like Chelsea, who loved cutting others down. Someone so much like her parents. And if she could do it to Chelsea, maybe she could do it with them, too.
The entire purpose of our coming here—of my side in this farce of a marriage—had been to show my ex I wasn’t the man she claimed I was.
But now that that time had come, I couldn’t care less.
Not when my wife stood there in that red dress, my ring glinting on her finger, and my cock hard as steel for her.
I couldn’t wait a second longer and strolled around the corner toward them. “Evening, ladies.”
All gazes snapped to me, Quinn’s included, and God, she was so fucking beautiful, all anger and indignation on my behalf.
I was going to fuck her so hard.
“You don’t mind if I steal my wife, do you?” I said, settling in behind Quinn and wrapping an arm around her waist. I dipped my head to hers, pressing a kiss to her temple and murmuring, “You about ready to come—I mean go—kitten?”
Before she could answer, I slid my other hand into my pocket, my finger hovering over the button on the remote. And then I pushed it.
Quinn’s body jolted against me, and I bit back a grin.
She placed her hand on top of mine, her nails digging into my skin, and I wasn’t sure if she was telling me to leave it on or turn it off.
Didn’t know which I’d prefer, either. There would be some definite satisfaction from making her come like this. Right here.