3. Barrett
BARRETT
My collar feels too tight.
I drag one finger under the edge of it and catch Noah’s eyes in the mirror.
He’s standing near the window of the groom’s suite with his shirt half buttoned, his hair still damp from the shower, and a grin on his face that tells me he’s enjoying my suffering too much for a man getting married in under an hour.
“Don’t tear it,” he says. “Mindy picked those shirts.”
“I’m aware.”
“You look good,” he insists.
“I look rented.”
“You look human.”
I shoot him a look, and he laughs as one of his groomsmen tosses him a pair of cuff links from across the room.
The suite is full of noise, cologne, pressed linen, and men pretending they know what the hell to do with boutonnieres.
Everyone is cheerful. Everyone is moving around with drinks, jokes, and unnecessary opinions.
I stand near the dresser with my shoulders taking up too much space, wishing I could step outside long enough to breathe without someone asking if I’m excited.
I’m excited for Noah. That part is easy.
The rest of me is a goddamn mess because I kissed Rosalyn last night, and now the taste of her won’t leave me alone.
I’ve spent the whole morning replaying it.
Her back against that low stone wall. Her hands gripping my shirt.
The sound she made when I pulled her closer.
The way she hurried away afterward with her lips swollen and her eyes wide, as if I’d knocked her entire life off center.
I know mine shifted. I felt it happen the second my mouth touched hers, and I haven’t been steady since.
Noah steps closer, lowering his voice while the others argue about which side the boutonniere goes on. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure? You’ve been staring holes through the wall for twenty minutes.”
“I’m fine.”
His eyes narrow because he knows me too well. “This about Rosalyn?”
I look at him, and he immediately lifts both hands.
“Okay,” he says. “That’s a yes.”
“Focus on getting married, man.”
“I’m focused. I can multitask.”
I shake my head. “You can barely tie your own tie.”
“I’m wearing an open collar.”
“Exactly.”
He laughs, then fastens his cuff links. It’s a trip, seeing him this way.
In my head he’s twelve, skinny elbows and too much energy, following me through the woods because he didn’t want to be left behind.
Now he’s standing here ready to marry a woman who looks at him with her whole heart, and I’m proud enough of him that I can feel it in my throat.
“You picked well,” I say.
Noah’s face changes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He swallows, then smiles. “You too.”
I don’t pretend to misunderstand. “Nothing’s happened.”
“Barrett.”
“Almost nothing.”
His smile persists. “She’s good people.”
“I can tell.”
“But don’t forget that you just met her yesterday.”
The warning in his eyes is gentle, but it’s there. I could tell him how far gone I already am, but it would sound insane out loud. It sounds insane inside my own skull too, but that doesn’t make it less true.
A knock comes at the door, and the planner pokes her head in. “Gentlemen, it’s time.”
Noah lets out a breath, and the room shifts around him.
Men straighten. Jokes fade. Someone hands him his jacket, and I step behind him to tug the fabric into place at his shoulders.
He looks at me in the mirror, and for one moment we’re back on the mountain with a woodstove burning low and too much life already behind us.
“You ready?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “I am.”
“Then let’s go.”
The ceremony space is full when we take our places near the arch.
Sunlight sits bright on the water, and a breeze moves through the flowers fastened to the chairs.
I stand beside Noah with the rings in my pocket and tell myself to look at the guests, the officiant, the ocean, anything except the aisle.
Then Rosalyn steps into view.
Fuck me.
Her dress is fitted to every curve that kept me awake half the night.
The fabric moves around her legs as she walks, and her bouquet rests against the full swell of her breasts.
Her hair falls around her shoulders today, wavy and relaxed, and when her eyes find mine, the entire damn wedding disappears.
She smiles at me. I don’t know what my face does in return, but whatever it is makes her cheeks warm before she looks away and continues down the aisle.
She takes her place opposite me, close enough that I can see her fingers tighten around the stems in her hand.
Close enough that I can remember those fingers clutching my shirt while I kissed her in the dark.
The music changes. Everyone turns. Mindy walks toward Noah, and I force myself to focus because my brother deserves that.
He looks at her as if the whole world has gone silent, and when she reaches him, his hand trembles slightly around hers.
I’ve seen Noah scared, angry, exhausted, and too stubborn for his own good. I’ve never seen him this open.
The officiant starts talking. I hear enough to know when to hand over the rings. I hear Noah’s voice crack once and Mindy laugh through tears. I see Rosalyn watching them with wet eyes and a smile that makes my chest ache. Then her gaze flicks to me again, and a dangerous thought takes root.
I see her in white.
I see her walking toward me, not standing across from me for someone else. I see my ring on her finger. I see her in my cabin, barefoot in my kitchen, curled in my bed, laughing on my porch while the mountain rises around us. I see years where I have no right to see them.
It’s fucking crazy. I know that. I’m standing at my brother’s wedding, fantasizing about marrying a woman I met yesterday.
When Rosalyn looks at me through the ceremony flowers, something in her expression goes subtly startled, as if she can feel the shape of my thoughts from across the aisle.
Noah kisses Mindy, and everyone cheers.
The rest of the day moves around me in pieces.
Pictures on the beach. A cocktail hour where I keep Rosalyn in view while relatives pull us in separate directions.
Dinner under warm lights, speeches, applause, plates cleared, glasses filled.
I do what I’m told. I stand where I’m placed.
I say the things expected of me, including an extremely short best man speech that makes Noah laugh and Mindy cry and gets me out of public speaking before I do permanent damage to the mood.
By the time music fills the reception, I’m done pretending I’m watching anything except Rosalyn.
She dances with Mindy first, then with a cluster of bridesmaids, her body moving easily in the soft sweep of her blue dress.
Her smile comes freely, and every time she laughs, I feel it under my ribs.
I don’t dance. I don’t belong in the middle of that crowd with lights moving over the floor and everyone clapping along.
But I can stand at the edge with a drink I haven’t touched and watch Rosalyn be happy.
Then the music slows.
Couples draw together. Noah takes Mindy into his arms. Rosalyn steps back, watching the couples with a longing she probably doesn’t mean to show. It hits me hard, right in the center of my chest.
Fuck.
I set down my drink and go to her. Her eyes widen as I step in front of her. “Barrett?”
“Come on.”
She looks at my hand, then at my face, delight spreading across hers. “Are you asking me to dance?”
“No.”
Her smile grows.
I clear my throat. “I’m telling you we’re dancing.”
She puts her hand in mine, and I take her onto the floor before I can think better of it.
I’m rough at this. Too big, too stiff, too aware of every place our bodies almost touch.
Rosalyn doesn’t seem to care. She steps close and rests one hand on my shoulder while mine drops to her curvy waist. The moment her body comes against mine, the noise of the room drops away.
“You don’t dance,” she says.
“No.”
“But you’re dancing with me.”
“You looked as if you wanted to.”
Her expression softens. “I did.”
“Then that’s all that matters.”
She looks down for a moment, but I catch her smile before she hides it.
We move slowly, barely more than shifting in place, and it’s better than anything this godforsaken island has thrown at me.
Her hand is warm in mine. Her waist is soft beneath my palm.
Her body fits against me too well, and every protective, possessive part of me digs in deeper.
“You were staring during the ceremony,” she says.
“So were you,” I point out.
“I was being supportive of the couple.”
“Bullshit.”
A laugh slips out of her. “Fine. Maybe I looked once or twice.”
“You looked more than that.”
“So did you.”
“I’m not going to pretend I don’t want you.”
Her breath catches. The song keeps moving around us, but Rosalyn’s steps slow. “Barrett.”
“I know.” I rub my thumb along the back of her hand. “Wedding. People. Bad timing.”
“I didn’t say bad.”
My grip tightens at her waist. She feels it.
I know she does, because her body shifts closer by one careful inch, and my restraint thins to almost nothing.
The only thing that keeps me from lowering my mouth to hers right there is Noah laughing somewhere behind us, and the knowledge that Rosalyn deserves better than being dragged into gossip in the middle of her best friend’s reception.
So I dance with her. One song becomes two.
Then the night keeps going, and people get louder, looser, happier.
Mindy throws her bouquet. Noah smears cake near her mouth and pays for it when she kisses frosting onto his cheek.
Rosalyn slips back into maid-of-honor mode when she’s needed, but she always returns to me.
By the time the reception winds down and the last guests drift toward the elevators and beach paths, it feels understood that I’m walking her to her room.
The hallway is quiet around us, carpet silent under her bare feet. She carries her heels in one hand and walks beside me with her shoulder brushing my arm every few steps. I keep my pace slow for her, though my blood has been running hot for hours.
“I had fun tonight,” she says.
“You should. You worked hard enough.”
“So did you.”
“I stood there.”
“You danced.”
“I did.”
She looks up at me, eyes bright. “You also gave a very good speech.”
“It was thirty seconds.”
“It was a strong thirty seconds.”
I huff, and she smiles, but the teasing fades when we reach her door. She turns with her back near the frame, suddenly quieter, suddenly aware of the same thing I am. The hall is empty. The wedding is over. There’s no aunt interrupting us, no bride needing help, no crowd between us.
Just Rosalyn, looking up at me with those gorgeous lips I already know I need again.
“We didn’t talk about last night,” she says.
“No.”
“Do you want to?”
“I want to kiss you.”
Her breath leaves her slowly. “That’s not talking.”
“I’m just being honest.”
She drops her shoes. They hit the carpet with a gentle thud, and that’s the last bit of permission I need.
I step in, frame her face with one hand, and take her mouth.
She opens for me right away, fingers curling into my shirt as I press her back against the door.
Her taste hits me, sweet and warm, and the sound she makes breaks what’s left of my control.
“Key,” I say against her mouth.
She fumbles at the tiny purse on her wrist, laughing breathlessly while I kiss the corner of her jaw. “I’m trying.”
“Try faster, sweetheart.”
The lock clicks, and we stumble inside. I kick the door shut behind us and pin her against it, my mouth on hers, my hand sliding down over her waist and hip.
She fits under my hands too damn well, and when I gather the skirt of her dress higher, she arches into me with a sound that goes straight to my cock.
“Tell me to stop,” I say, rough against her throat.
“No.”
I lift my head. Her eyes are dark, her lips swollen from me, her chest rising hard. “Say it clear.”
“Don’t stop. I want you. I need you.”
I pull her to the bed, kissing her with every step.
She falls back onto the mattress, and I go down with her, shoving her dress up her thighs while she reaches for my shirt.
I pull it over my head, then get my hands back on her because I can’t stand the space.
Her tits strain against the fabric, her thick thighs parting for me, and the sight of her spread out under me makes me curse low and mean.
“Goddamn, you’re beautiful.”
Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t hide from me. “Barrett, please.”
I hook my fingers in her panties and tear them down her legs. Her pussy is so pretty pink and wet for me, and the sight of it makes my jaw lock. I lower myself between her thighs, push them wider with my shoulders, and put my mouth on her.
She cries out, hands flying to my hair. I hold her hips down and eat her slow, then harder when she starts shaking.
Her swollen clit pulses under my tongue, and she tastes sweet, hot, perfect.
I slide two fingers into her needy pussy, feeling how tight and unclaimed she is, and thrust them until she sobs my name.
“That’s it,” I growl against her. “Come for me, sweetheart.”
She breaks on my mouth, thighs clamped around my head while I work her through it. I don’t stop until she’s pulling at me, flushed and desperate, her voice breathless as she begs me closer.
I stand long enough to strip. Her eyes follow every movement, dropping to my cock as I fist it, hard and aching for her. She reaches for me, and I climb over her, pushing her dress higher until her tits spill into my hands and her bare pussy brushes the head of my cock.
“I need you,” she whispers.
“You have me.”
I push into her with one slow, deep stroke, drawing an unbridled moan from her lips. She’s tight, hot, gripping me hard enough to make my vision blur. I bury my face against her neck and breathe through the first brutal wave of it, hands flexing in the sheets beside her head.
“Fuck,” I grit out. “You feel too good.”
She wraps her legs around my waist. “Oh, god. Barrett.”
I move my hips. Slow at first, deep enough that she cries out every time I drive back into her.
Her cream slicks my cock, her nails digging into my back as I slowly fuck her with every bit of restraint I have left.
It isn’t enough. She feels too good. Sounds too sweet.
Looks too perfect under me with her mouth open, her tits rosy, her pussy taking me so tight I can barely think.
“Good girl,” I rasp, watching her eyes lose focus. “You look so gorgeous taking my cock.”
She whimpers and tightens around me, and I nearly lose it. I shift my angle, thrusting deeper, grinding against her clit until her hands clutch at my shoulders.
“Barrett!”
“I know, baby.” I drive into her harder. “That’s it, beautiful. Come for me.”
Her body locks beneath mine. I feel the first pulse of her orgasm, giving her every last inch as she cries out and comes around me. My control snaps. I bury myself deep, groan her name against her mouth, and feel the fierce intensity of my heart as I come inside her.