Chapter 14
Xander
I never imagined a wedding day for myself.
But if I had, former President Alders marrying me to my friend in order to buy her some time so she could do all of this again
someday with someone she actually wanted to marry was not how I thought it would go.
Two weeks after our arrival in the Hamptons, on the beach at sunset with waves crashing a hundred feet away, Penelope and
I got married. A scheme that the entire front row, all the people who happened to know the truth, watched with mild apprehension.
After the fuck-it list incident, Penelope avoided me for a couple days until I teased her about how a woman who had a spreadsheet
for everything was a little disorganized everywhere else. That led to a slightly irritated snap back at me and after a few
rounds of light banter things settled out into what they always were: Penelope marginally irritated, but at ease. Or as close
to ease as Penelope got.
And I tried—and failed—to forget about that list .
“You may kiss the bride,” former President Alders announced cheerfully in front us, beneath the altar decorated with an array
of tropical flowers.
I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her close.
Her silk white dress was conservative in the front, a high neck line and sleeveless. But the back, fuck , it was backless. I didn’t know why prim-and-proper Penelope chose it but a part of me was sure it had to be payback for
something. I hadn’t stopped thinking about that dress since I saw her in it in my bedroom.
My hand splayed along her lower back, and I pulled her in for the kiss. I could feel her hesitate briefly as I pressed my
lips against hers, but a moment later she relaxed.
Her supple lips loosened, and her hands closed along my lapel. Like molten caramel, her lips were warm and sweet. Chills rolled
down my body, wanting nothing more than to deepen it. When I began to pull away, she held me there. Kept me close.
So, I kept going. She tipped her head back and her lips parted—baiting me to push a little further. And I did.
She’d made her intentions incredibly clear about what she wanted and what she didn’t. Who she didn’t. But, as long as we were
acting...
I ran my hand along her waist, she moaned softly against my mouth. My blood heated at the sound; electricity sparked through
every muscle in my body.
Our tongues swept along each other’s, tentative and unsure, but as the rest of the world melted away around us—they found
a more confident rhythm.
A groan ran up my throat and I kissed her deeper.
The memory of that list she had ran through my mind, teasing me with mental images of how I could help her with it if she’d
let me. Tied up. Blindfolded. In public. Her orgasms on my mouth, my hand, my cock.
Fuck , I imagined all of it.
Her nails scraped against my scalp as we fell hopelessly into the kiss. My fingers pressed desperately against her skin, never
wanting this to end.
Fuck. She tasted so good.
The sound of the former president clearing his throat loudly finally lifted the spell. But I didn’t pull away until I felt an insistent tapping on my shoulder.
“Guys,” Sloan whispered. “We get it.”
I silently cursed not making Marcus my best person; he’d have probably let that go on a little longer.
Penelope’s eyes opened and stared into mine. Hazy and dilated. She blinked a few times.
“Not the plan,” she whispered against my lips as she pulled away, her face flushed.
“You don’t have a plan,” I mumbled under my breath.
Her grip loosened and she smoothed a hand over my tux jacket, with a delicate shift along the column of her throat, the fog
lifted. Sitting just below the blush that ran across her cheeks, she put on a smile that looked real. So fucking real my heart
skipped and I couldn’t look away.
We turned to face the photographer standing in the aisle. We smiled at the camera as we walked down it.
***
“Are we going to talk about that kiss?” Sloan asked as she walked over to me with a teasing grin.
The reception was on a platform constructed along the beach behind Amari Manor for the event. Lanterns and the moon lit up
the night. Tables were scattered across the sand.
I couldn’t think of a good excuse for kissing her like that in front of everyone we knew. I couldn’t think of anything other than how good it felt. In fact, my mind replayed it every
couple of seconds. “I was instructed to sell it.”
“Well, mission accomplished.” She clapped tauntingly.
“It was for the crowd.”
“You’re telling me there’s nothing there? Because that kiss was...” She fanned herself.
“Selena was clear: sell it,” I repeated.
“That’s it, then?” she asked disbelievingly.
“Yeah. That’s it.”
Penelope needed to figure out her future and I needed to untangle myself from her—which became infinitely more difficult now
that I knew how good it felt to kiss her.
“If you say so,” Sloan huffed quietly. She glanced around the party and smiled as Marcus walked over to us, handing Sloan
a drink.
“I think it may be time to take the bride home,” Marcus said as he ran an arm around Sloan’s waist. He nodded his head in
the direction he’d just walked over from.
I looked over to Penelope, who’d spent the entire reception politely mingling with every guest in attendance that wasn’t me.
The champagne seemed to take the edge off her nerves.
Talking to CeCe, Henry, and Selena, she took the full glass of champagne and emptied it in seconds. She wobbled just a bit
between CeCe and Henry.
Sloan looked back at me; her mouth hung open. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her drunk.”
“CeCe kept her occupied, so nobody knows,” Marcus attested. “At least she’s having fun?”
“Yeah,” I grumbled and began walking over to her. Sloan and Marcus followed a few steps behind, exchanging a few whispers
between them.
When I was next to Penelope, I realized she was swaying her weight between her feet.
The only other night I saw Penelope even close to drunk was that night when it was just us in her kitchen after the Hightower
party, before she left for London.
“They believe it.” Penelope scrunched her hand around my lapels again when I was in arm’s reach. Her voice lowered and she got on her toes to whisper the rest in my ear. “We lied to a former president.”
Her warm breath, mingled with the scent of champagne, lingered along my neck.
“This fascination with the Alders family dynasty is a little weird.”
And mildly maddening.
She giggled and hiccupped at the same time, lowering herself and releasing her grip. “I’ve never lied like this before; it’s
rather exciting.”
Being close friends with Sloan and CeCe over the years got me and the guys adept at caring for drunk women. It was simple:
have food, have water, and never underestimate how fast a woman will run for pizza even in four-inch heels.
“I’m glad your first scheme is going well, Penelope.”
When CeCe was drunk, she got a little dark. When Sloan was drunk, she got a little violent. Neither really bothered me; both
were relatively easy to steer to safety.
But Penelope?
When champagne lifted the polite veil, she was fucking adorable.
A smile spread across her face; her spilled-ink eyes stared up at me. “I prefer Poppy.”
My heart jumped. “Oh yeah?”
“Who knew you were so creative?” She laid a hand on my chest to steady herself. She giggled loud enough to draw attention
from the mayor and the former president a few feet away.
“Maybe it’s time we say good night to the Suttons.” Henry politely offered to take Penelope’s empty champagne flute.
“Car’s ready for you,” Selena said from beneath Henry’s arm. “Leaving early plays into whirlwind narrative anyway.”
“Great.” I forced a smile.
I wrapped an arm around her waist as she took a few unsteady steps. She was like Bambi on ice.
She leaned in, the scent of orange blossoms bounced around her hair. “You are shaping up to be an excellent first husband.”
I flinched; she didn’t notice.
“And you’re starting to look like a lot of first wives in the Hamptons.” I carried more of her weight and helped her to the
car waiting for us. She looked up at me, her brows scrunched. “Visibly intoxicated.”
She grinned widely and I felt a little lighter.
For the next year, all that was promised to me—and all I was prepared to want—was that I could make her smile.