Chapter 6
SIX
CLIFF
If Hell is saving a place just for me, I’m pretty sure it looks like this.
There’s fluorescent lighting. Tacky elevator music. A mirror that no one could look good in, showing just how ridiculous I look in a rented tuxedo.
“This tie is choking me,” I grumble, yanking at the collar. “Are you sure I have to wear this damn thing?”
“Try standing up straight,” the tailor says, tugging at my sleeve. “You’re slouching.”
“Feels about the same.”
He mutters something under his breath, probably about how I'm worse than the ring bearer, and disappears to get the next round of options.
I stare at my reflection. The tux is black, with a satin-trimmed lapel and a bowtie that’s choking the last of my will to live. I look like a penguin that wandered too far from the glacier and got stuck playing dress-up.
The door creaks open behind me. I glance up to catch a glimpse of Sophie entering the shop through the mirror.
My gut clenches.
She’s wearing s soft, clingy dress in a dusty blue that hugs her waist and flows around her legs like water. Her hair is twisted back, half up and half down.Tendrils fall around her face. And her lips… Those sweet, fuckable lips curve up into a sweet grin.
The same way they do every time she sees me.
“Well, well.” She stops a few feet away and crosses her arms. “Look at you, Mr. Bond.”
“I feel like an idiot.”
“You look fucking hot.”
That shuts me up.
I moisten my lips as she steps closer. She cocks her head and studies me from different angles as if she’s inspecting Michelangelo’s David. I shift from one foot to the other—torn between liking her attention and wanting to hide from it.
“I thought you were running errands today,” I say, my voice croaking so badly, I wince inwardly.
“I was.” She lifts the bag she’s carrying. “I stopped by the bakery and ran into Winter, who told me you were getting your tux fit. I figured I’d drop by and, I don’t know…” She bites her bottom lip. “Offer some moral support.”
“Moral support?”
“Well.” She tips her head and lowers her voice. “Immoral, if you play your cards right.”
My breath catches.
I swallow and glance toward the hallway. “The tailor could be back any second.”
“Not for at least ten minutes,” she says. “I peeked at his clipboard on the way in. He’s got another guy in a fitting room trying on at least five different suits.”
“You have a lot of intel. Who’s a secret agent now?”
She takes a step closer. “I have many hidden talents.”
I know I shouldn’t let her in here. After the line we crossed last night… I can still bring her taste to mind.
But I should stop there. Before we cross another line.
But when she touches the lapel of my jacket and smooths it over my chest with slow, deliberate fingers, I stop pretending I want her to leave.
“Let me help you with the buttons,” she murmurs, slipping her fingers beneath the bowtie. “You look like you can’t breathe.”
“I can’t.”
Her eyes flick to mine, amused. “From the collar or from me?”
“Yes.”
That earns a soft laugh. The kind that builds in my stomach and heats my blood. She undoes the top button of my shirt slowly. Then the next, exposing the base of my throat. Her fingers brush over my skin.
Fiery lust shoots through me.
“You clean up well.” She runs a hand down my chest, and I suck in a breath. “But I think I prefer you a little rumpled.”
She tugs my shirt loose from the waistband, slipping a hand beneath the hem. Her touch is warm, electric. My breath comes faster as she leans in and presses a kiss just under my jaw.
“Sophie,” I manage, voice low and uneven. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
Her hands slide to my belt.
I catch her wrists gently, holding them for a second. She looks up at me, bold and soft at the same time.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“I’ve been sure since the second you winked at me across the lawn party like a cocky bastard.”
I laugh, caught off guard, and that’s all it takes to loosen whatever thread of restraint I had left. I reach behind me and tug the curtain closed.
Sophie drops to her knees.
Her smooth fingers wrap around me, stroking up and down. I let out a low growl as she pump her fist slowly up and down.
Eyeing me through her thick lashes, she leans forward and wraps her lips around the head of my cock.
Closing my eyes, I throw my head back as she takes me into her mouth.
I don’t know if I’m in Heaven or Hell now. But either way, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
The bar is too loud. Too crowded. Too not-Sophie.
Slate shoves a beer into my hand as we squeeze between a pool table and a guy yelling into his phone. “Not bad, huh?”
I grunt. “It’s fine.”
He raises an eyebrow. “That the attitude you’re bringing to my bachelor party?”
“Just didn’t expect so many bodies. Or a twenty-first birthday party. Jesus.” I nod toward the swarm of tiara-clad women taking over the corner booth.
“Welcome to bustling Alaskan nightlife,” he says. “Can you imagine if we’d gone to Vegas.”
No. I fucking can’t. I’d rather sit bare ass on a frozen lake then go to a bachelor party in Las Vegas.
Thank God Slate isn’t the type. He’s been good about keeping things low-key for my sister’s sake, but even this version of a toned-down bachelor party—craft beer, dartboards, and a playlist from ten years ago—is overstimulating the hell out of me.
Mostly because I can’t stop thinking about Sophie.
The way she looked kneeling in front of me in the dressing moon. The heat in her eyes. That sweet, naughty little smile she wore when she wiped the corner of her mouth and said, “I think this makes us even, mountain man.”
I’ve never cum so hard.
And the memory of it has me harder than a mountain. Again.
I’m not exactly in the mood for small talk and cheap beer.
One of the groomsmen tosses an arm around Slate’s shoulder. “You ready to level up the party? A couple of the guys found a strip club thirty minutes from here. Real ‘authentic’ Alaskan experience.”
“Hard pass,” Slate says without hesitation. “Winter would kill me. Then, she’d bring me back to life just to kill me again.”
The guy laughs, already peeling away. “Suit yourself.”
I raise my brows at Slate. “Nice save.”
He shrugs. “I’m not trying to end up on a Reddit thread. You good if we duck out?”
“I was about to suggest it.”
We polish off our beers and slip out the back. The night air is cool and smells faintly of pine. My shoulders relax for the first time all evening.
“You heading home?” Slate asks, fiddling with his keys.
“Actually…” I hesitate. “I was thinking about stopping by the motel. Sophie was hosting the bachelorette party. Figured she could use a hand to clean up.”
He grins. “That’s one way to call it.”
I flip him off with a smirk and head for my truck.
The whole short drive to the motel, I think about Sophie’s sweet mouth. The taste of it. The feel of it wrapped around my cock.
By the time I pull up to the motel, I’m so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if I passed out from lack of circulation to my brain.
The motel is quiet on the outside. But the closer I get to the door of Sophie’s room, the more I hear it. The sweet sound of Sophie’s giggle.
Grinning, I lift my hand and knock firmly on the door. There’s a little scuffle. A thud and a mumbled curse word before the door opens. Sophie, dressed in leggings and an oversized hoodie, gapes at me in surprise.
“You’re here.”
“I am.” I glance behind her. There are half-empty wine bottles, wrapping paper, and ribbons strewn around the room. “Are you alone?”
“I am.” Her cheeks are flushed. Her hair’s up in a messy bun and a sash that says “MAID OF HONOR” slipping from her shoulder.
My heart does something stupid at the sight.
“You look like you robbed a bachelorette supply store,” I say from the doorway.
She wiggles upright and teeters slightly before steadying herself against the door frame. “What are you doing here?”
“I was on my way home. Figured I’d stop by to see how your party went.”
“Oh… it was fun.” She looks around, blinking at the pile of glittery debris. She steps back and holds the door open wider, silently inviting me in. “The others left an hour ago. It’s kind of chaotic in here.”
“I see that.” I step over a bag of penis straws. “Need help cleaning?”
“Are you offering?”
“Yeah.”
“Then, yes please.”
She sways, and I instinctively reach out to grab hold of her. She’s flush against me, head resting briefly on my chest.
“You okay?” I murmur.
“Tipsy. Sleepy. Satisfied with a party well done.”
“You did good work.”
“I did,” she says, beaming. “And now I’m going to collapse. Come tuck me in?”
The question is innocent enough, but there’s a flicker of mischief in her eyes that has my pulse kicking up again.
“You sure?”
She nods. “I’m not asking for round two. I’m asking for cuddles.”
“Cuddles, huh?” I let my hand skim lower on her back. “Just that?”
“Just that… unless I fall asleep halfway through kissing you.”
I groan under my breath and follow her toward the bed
Sophie’s room smells like coconut lotion and lavender. There are clothes piled on a chair, a stack of tissue on the nightstand, and a throw blanket crumpled at the foot of the bed.
She crawls in first, flopping onto her back with a sigh of relief.
I toe off my boots, shrug off my flannel, and climb in beside her, still wearing my jeans and undershirt. I prop myself on one elbow and look down at her.
She’s staring at the ceiling, lashes fanned, mouth soft.
“Thanks for coming,” she whispers. “I didn’t think I’d want company tonight, but…”
“But?”
She turns toward me slowly. Her palm finds my chest. “But I like how you make me feel. Like I can breathe a little easier.”
That’s all it takes. I lean in and kiss her. Soft at first. Her lips part beneath mine, and she pulls me closer.
We kiss like we’ve been waiting for this moment all night. Like the quiet and the moonlight and the leftovers of wine have created a bubble just for us.
Her fingers thread into my hair. My hand finds the curve of her hip. Our bodies align naturally, like we were made for this exact kind of slow burn.
I press kisses along her jaw, down her throat. She arches into me, breath hitching.
“You drive me crazy,” I murmur against her skin.
“Good.”
We kiss until the heat simmers low, until our hands grow still and our breathing syncs.
She sighs and presses her forehead to mine. “You’re not what I expected.”
“Same.”
We fall asleep like that. Tangled. Warm. Unwilling to let go.