7. That Wedding Night
7
THAT WEDDING NIGHT
MAISY
The Past: Eight months after spring break
The night of Chelsea’s Christmas wedding.
Chelsea and Rex’s wedding ceremony and reception became the gold standard of my wedding expectations. But it was over, and an exhausting day. In the elevator, alone, I sagged against the wall, finally able to relax my tense shoulders. Throughout the reception, I kept hyper vigilant to Brooks’ whereabouts at all times. Often, our eyes met across the room and it exhausted me pretending not to be affected by his silent attention.
I did a great job of keeping away from him tonight, or maybe he did a splendid job of keeping away from me. Either way, it was for the best. Besides, he brought a woman with him as his plus one. Archer’s date’s sister, though she meant nothing to him, according to what Rex told Chelsea.
I acted like I cared less and danced the night away with anyone not named Brooks Bellamy. When I needed a break, I kept myself useful to Miriam, doing her bidding, whatever she needed me to do to ensure the reception went off without a hitch for my sister, no matter how inconsequential the task.
Brooks texted me at one point, though, and while the elevator climbed higher to my floor, I thumbed back through the messages once again, reading every word.
Brooks: You’re fucking gorgeous tonight.
Brooks: It hurts like hell to look at you.
Maisy: Then don’t.
Brooks: Hard to avoid when you’re the only woman in the room I see.
Brooks: Meet me in the bar for a drink. Let’s talk.
Maisy: About what?
Brooks: The fact that I miss you.
Maisy: Didn’t look like it when you danced all the slow songs with what’s her face.
Brooks: So you were watching me?
Brooks: Jealous?
Maisy: Hardly.
Brooks: You’re lying. She’s not the woman I want and you know it.
Maisy: Why do you think I danced with every man not you?
Brooks: To make me jealous, and it worked.
Brooks: Still there? Meet me.
Maisy: I’m busy helping Vivian with the cake.
Brooks: No. You’re avoiding me.
Maisy: I can’t go through this again.
Brooks: You miss me. Admit it.
Maisy: What’s the point of admitting anything, when after New Year’s, I head back to the ship?
Brooks: I’m painfully aware of your schedule.
Maisy: Keeping tabs on me?
Brooks: Yes. Always. I’ll never stop until you’re mine.
That one took my breath away.
Maisy: Well, don’t.
Brooks: Meet me in the bar, look me in the eye, and tell me you don’t want me.
Every glance his way made my heart flutter, but I never made it to the bar. Denial was the name of the game if I expected to walk back on that ship. And I was absolutely lying to myself if I thought I could attend this wedding and avoid feeling things for him again.
I shut off my phone and sighed, but it turned into an enormous yawn, exhausted from the day, but happy for Chelsea. She made the most glowing bride, with Rex by her side.
It didn’t help that a week away from the research boat proved jarring to my system. I’d gotten used to the feeling of floating on the vessel, the slight rocking sending me to sleep each night. On solid ground in New York City, I was almost unsteady, and sleep eluded me all week. Shouldn’t be a problem tonight, though.
But as I dragged myself off the elevator, I teetered on edge in need of relief after reading our texts. Picturing Brooks so debonair in his tuxedo didn’t help matters. Oh, how I imagined hearing his deep voice in my ear saying everything he texted or the way his possessive words struck me to my core. Definitely torturous.
I rounded the corner at the end of the hall and stopped short. No, this was torture.
Brooks leaned against my door with smoldering eyes. In one hand, he held an opened bottle of wine. In the other, over his shoulder, he held onto his tuxedo jacket. Around his neck, his bow tie hung with a few buttons undone, showing golden skin peeking through. And his forearms… oof. He’d rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, revealing taut muscles and veins.
Dammit. He looked as good to me now as he did on Buchanan Island over spring break—an unforgettable week together—but what a fiasco. I’d offered myself to him, my virginity, but he turned me down, wanting to wait until I returned from my year away.
Until now.
My bottom lip caught between my teeth, holding in a tiny whimper as he stalked toward me, a lion to his prey.
“I dare you,” he said, dark and sultry. “Look me in the eye, and tell me you don’t want me, Maisy.”
“I-I…” My throat constricted, unable to form the words, because he knew me too well, even after all this time.
“That’s what I thought. Now there’s only one thing I need to know.” The hand holding the bottle came up to my cheek, the back of his knuckles caressing it, his eyes dark and intense, boring into mine. “Did you give yourself away to the professor?”
My chest heaved with a shaky breath as I shook my head, although I didn’t feel the need to explain myself. When two people are stuck on a boat in the middle of a vast ocean, working and living so closely together, yes, certain feelings emerged. But it wasn’t love with the professor, my boss. Nothing happened. My virginity remained intact.
“Then unlock the door, Maisy, because tonight…you’re mine. ” His growly commanding voice triggered me to act. I stepped past him and fumbled with the door, my hands shaking at everything he implied. Then he took over, confidently reaching around me, taking the key card, standing so close. His aftershave became my oxygen, and his body heat, my cloak.
“Open it. Let me in.” His words feathered across the back of my neck as his lips softly brushed there. My panties soaked with wetness and electricity sparked down my spine. Goose bumps flared up everywhere. Not once did the professor’s awkward advances elicit this kind of response from me.
“Only for tonight. And Brooks,” I finally found my voice, barely a whisper. “This time, take all of me. All the way.”
Once inside, the door clicked shut behind us; the silence stretching taut like a held breath. Then his hands were on me, and my back found the wall, cool and grounding. My shoes thudded to the floor, his coat joining them, and then?—
His lips found mine—a kiss full of promise. It wasn’t just lust. It was six months of longing wrapped in one desperate breath. I clung to him, fingers curling into his shirt as if anchoring myself to something real.
He pulled back just slightly, breath huffing against my cheek. “God, I missed this.”
“Me too. But keep going. I’m not ready to stop.”
He grinned, then glanced down. “Shit.”
“What?” I blinked, still half-floating.
He raised the tequila bottle between us, that devilish look in his eyes. “Didn’t realize I brought a third wheel to our reunion.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “Well, that’s one way to kill the mood.”
He pressed a quick kiss to my jaw. “Two seconds. Don’t go anywhere.”
With a wink, he ducked into the bathroom. The soft clink of glass echoed, and he was back just as fast, sleeves rolled higher, collar open, hands empty.
“Now,” he growled, stepping into me again, “where were we?”
That’s when we lost ourselves, hard and headlong, into the hunger that built over time and exploded without mercy. Our mouths became ravenous and clumsy. His hands gripped my hips as he lifted me?—
“Wait. Don’t rip my dress.” I reached down and gathered my skirt around my waist, both of us laughing again. This time, when he lifted, I wrapped my legs around his waist with ease. I gasped into his mouth when my back met the wall again, and he kissed me harder, deeper.
“Your lips feel the same. Exactly as I remember,” he murmured against my lips.
“And you still know how to undo me,” I whispered back.
He pressed his forehead to mine, breathing heavily. “Tell me to stop now if you want to. Because I’m one second away from losing every ounce of control.”
“I don’t want you to stop.” I threaded my fingers through his luscious hair. “Need all of you. Now.”
He carried me to the desk in the room. In the time it took my hands to fumble down the buttons of his dress shirt, he unzipped my dress, peeling it off over my head and my strapless bra with it.
“There’s my beautiful Maisy.” His eyes roamed my body, lingering on my breasts, his hands following with sweet caresses. I felt seen. No other man had affected me this deeply.
His mouth trailed heat along my neck. I arched under him, moaning his name when his lips warmed my nipples. Between my thighs, his fingers explored the wet fabric until he found my center, stroking me exactly the way I needed.
My hands reached for him, desperate to feel the size of him, but he shied from my touch. I whimpered, and he kissed down my body, then dropped to his knees, eyes locked with mine. “I’ve dreamed about this,” he said. “Tasting you again. Satisfying you first. Lift.”
I did. His hands shimmied my panties off, then spread my legs wide. Then his mouth replaced his fingers.
I cried out as his tongue teased, licked, devoured. My thighs trembled, hands fisting in his hair as the pleasure built too fast, too sharp.
“Brooks…”
He didn’t stop. My release struck like white lightning, stealing the air from my lungs.
Before I could recover, he stood and kissed me, sharing in my taste on his lips and tongue. “You taste like a fucking dream I’ve had every night thinking of you since you left. Even better than I remember, Mais…”
“My turn?” I reached for him, palmed him through his pants, and he groaned.
“You’re such a good girl...”
I stood and pushed him into the chair. I parted his shirt for the pleasure of the view of his abs. My fingers made quick work of his belt and zipper, freeing him. I remember the first time I saw him, when I’d gasped at his girth. I stroked him slowly, watching his head fall back, lips parting with a low growl as I teased his head and traced him with my tongue, sucking at him greedily.
“That mouth,” he gritted. “You’re going to kill me.”
I pumped him until his whole body tensed. He reached down and guided the rhythm he liked. With a strangled gasp, he came in my hand, his eyes on mine the whole time.
We were breathless, undone... and I trembled that there would be more to come. My heart fluttered wildly in my chest, not just from what we’d done, but from the way he gazed upon me—more than a woman in his arms, as if I was the only woman in his world.
Somehow, he always knew how to quiet the doubt in me, settle the nerves under my skin. Like my body had spent months adrift. And now, back in his arms, was it finally anchored again?
He reached for the convenient box of tissues on the desk and took my hand, cleaning me off with surprising tenderness.
Without a word, he stood, swept me into his arms, and carried me to the bed. Gently, he laid me under the covers, then joined me, skin to skin, wrapping himself around me like he never wanted to let go.
I melted into him, curling my fingers over his bicep, wishing time could freeze right here. Just us. Just this.
I rested my head on his chest, heart still pounding. “Why didn’t we go all the way?”
His hand brushed through my hair, slow and soothing. “Fuck, believe me. I want to. But Maisy, I want more than just a night. I want many nights. All of them, if I can have them.”
I smiled against his chest, but a sadness bloomed in my stomach.
“I don’t leave until after New Year’s.”
“I know. It’s not enough. So if it’s okay, tonight, I want to stay until sunrise and talk and laugh with you. Like we used to,” he implored.
“I want that, too.” Tears prickled behind my eyes. I nodded, suddenly too full of emotion to speak. He always saw me clearer than anyone else. Not the scientist. Not the student. But Maisy, a woman seeking love and connection at the deepest level. If I could measure it and study it, I would so I’d know how to replicate this moment forever.
“When you come back in six months,” he whispered, “promise me we’ll finish this. We’ll finally have each other.”
I hesitated.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, letting the tears escape. “But I’m not coming back in six months. I extended six more months beyond my original year. They have a master’s degree program, where I study online and do practical application on board the ship. I’ll come back with my master’s degree, mostly done, with only a thesis to complete.”
He stilled. Hardly breathing, like I punched the air out of him. The warm weight of his arm around me suddenly felt heavier, yet more fragile.
And in that silence, I heard the crack in his heart. Mine, too.