Chapter 10 #2
My lips meet hers, and everything I’ve been fighting against finally gives way.
At first, the kiss is slow, like I’m still pretending this is all just part of the plan.
But that only lasts about a second before my hand moves to the nape of her neck, pulling her closer.
Her hand grips the fabric of my shirt like she’s afraid I’m going to back away.
There’s no way I could. There isn’t a version of this kiss where I walk away because the second I felt her, the possibility of keeping this careful, practiced, or even remotely restrained was gone.
She exhales softly against my mouth, her other hand threaded into the hair at the nape of my neck.
I pull her closer without thinking, my hips pressing forward so the space between us disappears completely.
There’s a quiet sound when she exhales against me, and it goes straight through me, reminding me that this is something I’ve been thinking about far longer than I should admit.
She pulls back a second later, cheeks flushed, eyes wide. My hand is still gripping the back of her neck, hers fisting my shirt at my waist like she’s afraid I might vanish.
Jesus, I actually kissed her. I fucking kissed her, and it wasn’t supposed to feel like that.
I pull back just enough to look at her, my breath still shaky, then my forehead brushes lightly against hers. My hand slides to the side of her neck, my palm settling there, feeling the rapid beat of her pulse beneath my fingers.
“Was that okay?” I ask, my pulse skipping beats. “We can try again if—”
Her hand tightens at my side as she shakes her head. “No… I mean, yes,” she says quickly, then exhales, like she’s trying to steady herself. “I just—” she lets out a quiet, breathless laugh. “That was… really good.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, my thumb brushing lightly along her jaw as she looks up at me, a teasing spark already creeping back into her expression. “You want to try it again?”
She doesn’t answer, she just goes up on her toes and kisses me again, any trace of hesitation gone. Her mouth parts, needy and ready, and fuck, it knocks the breath out of me.
She kisses me like she’s been waiting for this just as long as I have. Every bit of tension, all of the moments we didn’t act on, colliding at once.
Fuck me.
Her breath ghosts warm against my skin as she tilts her head, meeting me with more intent this time, more demand.
It pulls me under. There’s nothing careful about it now.
I feel it in the way she presses closer, the way the kiss deepens, like she’s showing me exactly what she wants without saying a word.
And I’m right there with her.
I have one hand at her waist, anchoring her to me as I follow her lead, matching the pace, the pressure, the heat building between us. Then her mouth opens against mine, and my tongue finds hers. Whatever control I had left disappears completely.
The kiss turns consuming—less about proving a point, more about chasing something we’ve both been skirting around for too long.
I pull back, a rough breath slipping out of me before I can stop it, and it’s enough to make her eyes snap open.
She looks… undone. Those big, emerald eyes are unfocused for a second, like she’s still caught somewhere in the middle of the kiss.
And her lips—soft, pink, slightly parted—look like they’re still chasing the memory of mine.
There’s something about the intense chemistry between us that messes with my self control.
Is it because I haven’t had sex in forever?
I doubt it. I’ve never felt this kind of deep attraction to any other woman before.
I’ve never wanted the type of love that can turn a person inside out.
That kind of thing could wreck a man… but sometimes I’ve wondered what it would feel like.
I let out a quiet breath and loosen my grip on her. “We should probably keep this between us,” I tell her, trying to regain some sense of control before this goes any further.
Lottie’s brows lift slightly, a hint of amusement flickering across her face. “So, no posting this to social media then? Victoria would be so disappointed.”
I laugh. “She’ll survive. I just… I don’t need anyone knowing my business.”
She tilts her head as she looks at me, like she’s trying to figure me out. Then she nods. “I won’t tell if you don’t, Wes,” she says.
I nod.
“Besides,” she adds, “I don’t exactly make a habit of getting involved with guys like you.”
I look at her. “Guys like me?”
“Millionaires, players,” she clarifies with a dismissive wave of her hand. “And definitely not ones who are related to my best friend.”
“I’m not related to Madeline,” I counter immediately.
“She’s married to your brother,” she shoots back. “That counts.”
“Not in any way that matters here.”
“It matters to me.”
I study her for a second, the way she says it, the way she holds it like a line she’s already drawn. “Right. And why don’t you date men with money?”
She presses her lips together as she looks me over. “I’ve known a few. Too much money and too few reasons to behave.”
I let out a quiet laugh at that. “You’re making a lot of assumptions.”
“Am I?” she says, her eyes flicking back to mine, sharp and knowing. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
I don’t look away. “Money doesn’t give me a pass to be an ass, Lottie. I don’t behave because I have to. I behave because I choose to.”
I can see the challenge still in her eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” she says, like she’s reminding herself as much as me. “You’re off limits anyways.”
“I guess I won’t argue,” I say. “Because I don’t date.”
Her brows lift immediately. “At all?”
I shrug. “Not really.”
She studies me for a second, clearly not buying it. “Right,” she says, dragging the word out slightly. “You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s the truth.”
“I think you’re exactly the type who says that and then has women lining up anyway.”
A quiet breath leaves me, close to a laugh but without much humor behind it. “Is that really what you think?”
“I’m sure your brand of charming works on all the girls,” she says, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “You just flash your million-dollar smile, and they give you exactly what you want.”
I hold her gaze. “Except you, right? You think you are the exception.”
Lottie studies me, her lips pressed together in a thin line like she’s weighing my words. I watch her pulse beat quickly at her throat. She shifts, like she’s trying to put some space back between us even though neither of us actually steps away.
“It really doesn’t matter, Wes. We’re just pretending, right? And all of this was your idea. You’re the one who asked me to be your wife,” she fires back without hesitation and damn if my cock doesn’t love the push back.
“I don’t remember forcing you to do anything.”
She sighs and I can feel the agitation radiating off of her. “We can keep going around in circles about this if you want,” she says, glancing at the clock on the dresser. “But we’re going to be late for our wedding, so why don’t we agree to just be friends and leave it at that?”
I stare at her. I’m not sure how I can just be friends with Lottie now that I know how good it feels to kiss her. What I really want is to go back to kissing her, to take her out of that dress and bury my cock as deep as I can get inside of her.
I’ve never really been friends with a woman.
Hell, I don’t even have many guys who are friends.
Trust hasn’t come easy for me since everything that happened in high school.
But I guess there’s a first time for everything.
Because I know Lottie is probably right—we’re going to be living under the same roof for the next year, putting on this show for the press.
It’s going to be challenging enough without complicating things.
“Fine. We’ll be friends.”
Something flickers across her face, but she quickly replaces it with a smile. “Great.”
She turns away from me, walks toward the dresser and grabs her clutch. She tucks it under her arm and glances at herself in the mirror, smoothing her hair back into place. When she turns back to face me, there’s tension in her jaw.
“We should probably get going,” she says softly, without meeting my eyes.
“Yeah,” I nod. “We should.”
She heads for the door, and I fall in step behind her, silence stretching out between us. My mind goes straight back to the kiss, to the way her lips felt against mine and the little sounds she made that made my brain cells clock out for the day.
Lottie Hart is a good kisser—the best kiss of my life, to be honest. But it shouldn’t have happened, because now it’s going to be a hell of a lot harder to keep my hands off of her.
Fuck, I’m in trouble.
Someone put me out of my misery.
I follow her out of the room, watching the way she moves, her scent still clinging to me.
In a couple of hours, Lottie is going to be my wife.
And like a complete moron, I’ve already crossed a line I can’t come back from.