Chapter Thirty-Two #2
A devious grin spread across his lips. Fingers danced across my collarbone and then around my neck and then to the back of my head as he pulled me to him and left a trail of kisses along the blade of my shoulder.
His other hand roamed up from my waist and cupped my breast. “I’ve been dreaming of this since you walked in on me.
Fuck, even before then. I don’t think you understand how impossible it’s been to exist under the same roof as you and not touch you.
How unfair it was for you to wander back into my life and for me to not immediately kiss you? ”
My eyes rolled back as he snapped his hips against me. He was aroused by me. There was no mistaking the hard bulge in his pants.
Eli pulled back again for a moment, his breath indecipherable from mine. “I’m sorry . . .” He glanced down at his erection. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”
This time it was me who kissed him, my tongue lacing with his. I kissed along the scruff of his cheekbone and to his earlobe, where I sucked and nibbled.
He groaned into my ear and the sound of him broke any remaining resolve I might have had.
The hand cupping my breast moved down past the waistband of my linen shorts. I let myself glance down for a moment as I watched his hand disappear into the leg of my shorts, my body rocking forward to meet him. To beg him to move faster.
“Do you know how hard I am every night thinking about you in the bedroom next door? Ever since that morning in your bed, I’ve held my breath, hoping that I would hear you moan. Do you know what kind of torture it is to have you as a roomate?”
Roommate. That word yanked me back to reality just as his fingers traced the scalloped trim of my underwear.
I pushed myself against the back of the couch in an effort to put space between us. Maybe space would give us both a shred of sense.
His hands dropped to his sides when he finally realized that I wasn’t pulling him with me.
I shook my head. “We . . . we live together. And we work together. And . . . you just told me I love Brody and now you have your hands down my shorts.”
His lips parted and his gaze fell, confusion and disappointment heavy in the soft lines of his forehead. “I should have asked,” he said, pushing himself to his feet.
“I am more than willing. It’s not that. Trust me.
But that doesn’t mean this is a good idea.
” It sounded like lines from a script. The kind of thing you said when you knew someone had to be the adult and ruin the fun.
“I need this job, Eli. Desperately. I can’t even begin to explain to you how desperately I need this job.
And I can’t risk things getting weird. Especially while I’m living in your apartment. ”
“Nothing has to get weird,” he countered.
I gave him a pointed look.
“Okay, well, maybe it’s been a little weird.”
“The fact that you’re my ex-husband isn’t really helping things either.”
“We were kids,” he said firmly, and then groaned. “Forget it ever happened. Okay? I was angry and sad and acted out. That’s all this was.”
I nodded, because that was something I could believe. “That’s all it was,” I said, my voice hollow and unconvincing.
ELIAS BUCKLEY
SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO
WITH THIS RING
It turned out that we actually needed to go to the Clark County Marriage Bureau first. Regretfully, the office was open until midnight and our limo pulled up at exactly 11:23 p.m.
It was too simple. We each presented a form of ID and I footed the bill for the license.
I held my breath as Vera signed and when it was my turn, she placed a tentative hand on my forearm. “You can’t say this won’t make for a good story.”
“I never took you for a daredevil,” I told her.
She shrugged. “It’s Brody. He’s reckless. It’s contagious. He makes life a little more . . . unexpected. Besides, there aren’t really any guys lining up to marry me, so my dance card is free.”
I hated the way she talked about herself. I hated how uncomfortable it made me and how I couldn’t put my finger on why.
“I’m lining up,” I told her.
Her lips quirked and she studied a loose button on her cardigan. “On a dare.”
I signed my name on the application beneath hers. The man behind the counter took our paperwork and began rapidly checking each page.
Then I turned to her and said the truest thing that had ever come out of my mouth. “Vera, don’t think for a moment that I couldn’t have said no. You think I’m scared of Brody? You think I give a shit about him getting riled up over me skipping out on a dare? No.”
She nodded, a deep, steadying breath moving across her lips. “Okay. Let’s get married.”
* * *
Our next stop was a twenty-four-hour tux and bridal gown rental store off Freeman.
Neither Vera nor myself cared too much about what we were wearing, but Brody insisted and we were fully committed at this point.
So I went in and came out with a light blue tuxedo complete with a vintage ruffled shirt that smelled like a cigar.
For his official duties as both best man and maid of honor, Brody opted for an orange tux to fulfill his Dumb and Dumber fantasy.
The salespeople in the shop were truly entertained and leaned into the bit, presenting us with canes and matching top hats.
I had to admit that I was sort of having . . . fun.
We waited outside next to the limo, which I’d hired on for an additional two and a half hours for an extra two hundred bucks.
Before we’d walked into the store and veered off in separate directions, Vera nervously picked at the skin around her thumbnail and wondered aloud if they’d have plus sizes available.
“If this place doesn’t have anything, we’ll just go on to the next,” I promised her, because even though this was a sham of a wedding, I’d be damned if she didn’t get exactly what she wanted.
I had no right, of course, but the moment we signed that marriage license, something in me claimed her as my responsibility.
This wasn’t a new feeling, but I felt the freedom—if only for one night—to act on it.
Brody sipped a foot-long margarita he’d bought off a street vendor.
“You need to start hydrating,” I told him.
He held his drink up. “I am hydrating.”
A few moments later, the door to the store opened, spilling fluorescent light out onto the dark sidewalk.
Upon seeing Vera, Brody let out a wolf whistle, which was loud enough to cover my throaty gasp.
She wore a short ivory dress that just brushed the tips of her fingers.
The top of the dress was corseted and molded perfectly to her breasts.
Billowing sheer sleeves gathered at her wrists and the hem of the dress looked like it had been dipped in light pink, which matched her floor-length veil.
It was the most I’d seen of her legs ever and if I didn’t look away, I was in danger of tenting my tux trousers.
She wore ankle boots covered in rhinestones and white heart-shaped sunglasses.
She looked like she’d stepped out of a movie.
“Shit, Vera,” Brody said, sounding the most sober I’d heard him all night.
Something deeply territorial and probably a little misogynistic spurred me to step forward and take her hand before Brody could say another word to my future wife.
“You look beautiful,” I told her. It was too simple of a word to properly describe her. She exuded a flirty confidence that made me want to follow her around like a puppy dog.
“I wanted it to be pretty, but . . . of the moment,” she said, her self-assurance wavering slightly. “It’s not too much?”
I pointed to myself and then to Brody. “Is that a serious question?”
She snorted softly as she took my proffered arm so I could escort her to the car. “Fair.”
“To the wedding chapel!” Brody called out to the driver.
* * *
There was only one package available that evening, which was a surprise to us.
It turned out that most people had booked their ceremonies in advance and walk-ins were left with whatever was available.
So when the guy at the front desk informed us that the only time slot open included a pink Cadillac and a Gene Simmons impersonator, I put my credit card down on the counter.
The Gene Simmons officiant was very committed to his role.
His platform boots made him nearly seven feet tall.
We were assigned a wedding planner, who informed us that our ceremony would take twenty minutes and that we would get married in front of the pink Cadillac in the parking lot with the city’s neon lights as the backdrop.
I expected to have a minute with Vera before it all began, but the wedding chapel moved us along like cattle and suddenly I was standing in front of the pink Cadillac with Brody beside me and a clearance rack Gene Simmons at my back.
“You’re a lucky man,” Fake Gene Simmons said, and I was pretty sure it was a line he gave to every groom, but it still felt like something that uniquely applied to me.
Vera stepped out of the front doors of the chapel with our driver, whose name turned out to be Alvin, escorting her down the aisle, which was a white shag carpet that led straight to me.