Chapter 4 #2
“Fine. Let’s walk.” She started down the sidewalk, her heels clicking against the pavement.
I matched her pace, slow as it was, and struggled to focus on the venue issue instead of the way her dress moved when she walked.
“Nice dress,” I finally said, because the silence was becoming unbearable.
“Stop staring at my ass.”
“As if,” I muttered.
She glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “Excuse me?”
“I wasn’t staring at your ass.” I totally was.
“You’re right. You were drooling over my ass.”
“Sweetheart, if I wanted your ass, you’d hand it to me on a golden platter in exchange for another orgasm.” I shot back.
“No, I wouldn’t.” She stopped walking and crossed her arms. It did wonders for her breasts in that low neckline. “I can handle those myself.”
I tilted my head, glancing her up and down. “Not the way I can.”
“You’re full of yourself.”
“Tell me I’m wrong then, and I wasn’t the best fuck you’ve ever had.”
Mari opened her mouth, and I expected her to wreck my ego just as I’d suggested, but instead, she closed it again.
“Fucking asshole,” she muttered under her breath, spinning around and continuing on the walk.
I chuckled, biting my lower lip before following behind her. Yeah, she had a nice ass.
We arrived at the Royal Gardens, where Penelope was waiting at the side entrance, looking apologetic.
“Thank you both for coming on such short notice,” she said, ushering us inside. “We just got word that the venue is double-booked for the setup day before the wedding. The previous event won’t be out until noon, which cuts your setup time in half.”
“That’s completely unacceptable. We need the full day for installation, especially for complex elements like the lighting and projection setup,” I said, shaking the walk and the conversation out of my head.
Mari nodded. “Half a day isn’t enough for what we have planned. The Kussikov-Martin wedding has specific technical requirements that can’t be rushed.”
“I understand,” Penelope said, wringing her hands. “But the other event is a corporate gala for one of our biggest clients. We can’t move them.”
“Then you need to find us an alternative solution,” I insisted. “Additional staff, overnight access, something.”
“I might be able to get you in the night before, after the previous event ends,” Penelope offered. “Around midnight? You’d have until 6 AM when the cleaning crew arrives, and then could continue after they leave.”
Mari and I exchanged a glance.
“That could work,” I conceded. “We’d need to adjust the vendor schedules, but it’s better than losing the time completely.”
“I’ll need to check with the installation team for the projection equipment,” Mari added. “They rarely work overnight shifts. I think I left my vendor contact binder here. Do you have it by any chance?”
“I put it in my office,” Penelope said. “Let me get it for you.”
She disappeared down a hallway, leaving Mari and me alone in the dimly lit venue.
“Do you think the projection team will work overnight?” I asked.
“They will if I pay them enough,” Mari replied, wandering toward the edge of the room. “Though I’m sure you’d prefer something more ‘reliable’ than projections.”
“I never said projections weren’t reliable. I said they required precise calibration.”
“Same difference,” she shrugged. “You dismissed the idea out of hand.”
“I was being practical.”
“You were being boring,” she corrected, turning to face me. “You’re so afraid of taking risks that you miss opportunities for something truly memorable.”
“I’m not afraid of taking risks,” I said, stepping closer. “I’m just not willing to sacrifice excellence for the sake of novelty.”
“And I’m not willing to sacrifice imagination for the sake of predictability.” She didn’t back away as I approached. “That’s the difference between us. You see weddings as events to be managed. I see them as stories to be told.”
“Stories are a garbled mess without structure. Without attention to detail, your creative vision falls apart.”
“Without heart, your precision is just empty choreography.” She tilted her chin up, defiance flaring in her eyes like blue fire.
We were standing too close now.
“You seem to think you know everything about me,” I said, my voice dropping lower. “You’ve decided I’m some soulless automaton because it’s easier than admitting we might have more in common than you want to believe.”
“We have nothing in common.”
“No? We’re both dedicated to our work. Both willing to fight for our vision. Both too stubborn to back down.” I leaned closer, close enough to see her pupils dilate. “And both perfectly aware that there’s something happening between us that has nothing to do with wedding planning.”
“The only thing happening between us is rivalry,” she said, but she didn’t move away.
“Is that why your pulse is racing right now?” I asked, gaze dropping to the flutter visible at her throat. “Is that why you can’t seem to maintain a professional distance when we’re alone?”
“No, it’s because I don’t like you,” she whispered, but there was no conviction in her voice. “You’re delusional.”
“Am I?” I reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, satisfied when she inhaled at the contact. “Then tell me to stop, sweetheart, and I will.”
She didn’t.
Instead, she stood perfectly still; her gaze locked with mine, a silent challenge in them I couldn’t resist any longer.
I closed the remaining distance between us, one hand moving to the small of her back while the other cupped her face. For a heartbeat, there was resistance, her hands pressed against my chest as if to push me away, and then she was pulling me closer, fingers curling into my shirt as our lips met.
I kissed her like I’d been starving for weeks because I had.
No soft pretense. Just heat and frustration and everything we hadn’t said.
This was raw, desperate, fueled by two weeks of tension and antagonism.
I backed her against the nearest wall, grinning as she let out a gasp against my lips.
I pinned her there with my body, one hand sliding into her hair to tilt her head back as I deepened the kiss.
God, she tasted just like I remembered.
She made a sound, half protest, half moan, that sent heat straight to my dick.
Within seconds, she had me hard, and I pressed into her to show her exactly what she was doing to me.
Wrecking me. Ruining me. Making me lose my fucking mind.
I caught her lower lip between my teeth, biting just hard enough to make her inhale before soothing the sting with my tongue.
Her hands were everywhere. In my hair, on my shoulders, sliding down my back, as if she couldn’t get enough contact.
“I hate you,” she breathed against my mouth, even as her body arched into mine.
“Feeling’s mutual,” I growled, moving from her lips to her neck, finding a sensitive spot just below her ear that made her fingers dig into my shoulders.
Her leg hooked around mine, pulling me closer, the friction making us both groan. I slid my hand down to her thigh, bunching her dress as I hitched her leg higher on my hip, pressing her more firmly against the wall. Conveniently, it also pushed her against my erection. Fuck, she felt amazing.
“Hudson,” she gasped, and the sound of my name on her lips nearly undid me. She hadn’t known it last time. Hadn’t been able to scream out anything but expletives and pleas for more.
I kissed her again, harder this time, one hand still tangled in her hair while the other explored the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist. She met my intensity with her own, nails scraping against my scalp, hips rocking against mine in a way that made it clear we were both thinking about more than just a kiss.
The sound of approaching footsteps barely registered through the haze of desire. It was Mari who pushed me away, her chest heaving as she hastily smoothed her dress just as Penelope rounded the corner, vendor binder in hand.
“Here you go,” Penelope said, apparently oblivious to what she’d interrupted.
“Thank you,” Mari said. Her voice remained remarkably steady despite her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. She took the binder, careful not to look in my direction.
I adjusted my tie, trying to regain my composure and grateful that my suit jacket was long enough to hide the obvious evidence of my arousal. “We appreciate your help with this, Penelope. We’ll let you know our plan by tomorrow morning.”
“Perfect.” Penelope glanced between us, a slight furrow in her brow as if she sensed something was off but couldn’t quite place it. “I’ll leave you to work out the details. The side door automatically locks behind you, just so you know.”
After she left, Mari and I stood in excruciating silence.
“That was a mistake,” she finally said, clutching the vendor binder to her chest.
“Agreed,” I said, though every cell in my body disagreed vehemently. Especially the cells in my lower region.
“It can’t happen again.”
“Absolutely not.”
She nodded, still not meeting my eyes. “I’ll call the projection team tonight. You handle Criss?”
“Fine,” I agreed, grateful for the return to professional territory.
We left the venue separately, the night air doing little to cool the heat still simmering under my skin.
Back in my apartment, I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
My hair was disheveled, my tie askew, my lips reddened from Mari’s kisses.
How in the hell had Penelope not noticed?
Huh. Maybe she had, and she’d kept her opinions to herself.
I hardly recognized myself. The image I’d maintained for years had crumbled, revealing someone I wasn’t sure I knew or liked.
My phone chimed with a text from my mother.
Just spoke with Eleanor Trolio. She’s thrilled about your potential feature. Your father is impressed with your innovative direction.
I set the phone down without responding. Shit. I’d lost my chance to tell Eleanor in person. But as I climbed into bed with the ghost of Mari’s touch still lingering on my skin, I knew I wouldn’t. I couldn’t risk losing my parents’ approval now that I was finally gaining it.
Besides, even though it was a spread in Modern Wedding, it wasn’t that big of a deal. It would come and go, and Mari likely wouldn’t even notice.