“I should get us cleaned up.” His lids were heavy as he spoke.
I pushed the hair back on his forehead. “Did you think of me? While we were apart?”
“You mean, did I touch myself?”
“Yeah, that’s what I mean.”
Beau brought his hand up to his mouth, and I watched as he licked it clean. Then he dragged his fingers through the mess onmy stomach and brought it to my lips. I sucked his digits clean as he watched, his eyes growing dark with want.
“Why do you think I liked the smell of you in my bed? I jerked off so much it was like I was a teenager again.”
His admission surprised me.
“Really?”
He climbed to his feet and then helped me out of bed. “Really. Now, let’s get you all washed up and clean for Jackson and Maverick’s big day. I can’t wait to see you all dressed up in. You’re going to look hot.”
I happily followed him into the bathroom.
I STARED AT MY BROTHERas he placed that crown he had wanted onto his head. I had never seen Maverick look so dressed up before. He wore all white, but with a lacey shirt, tucked into a pair of white dress pants. It was nice to see my brother dressed in something other than layers of shirts and baggy jeans. Sam was finishing up the final touches on my hair. She had pulled it back into a tight bun and weaved little white flowers into it.
“You look beautiful, Mav,” I blurted, and when he met my eyes in the mirror, he blushed and ducked his head. “Jackson is going to lose his mind when he sees you.”
He hummed softly. “That’s the plan.”
“Holy shit.” Killian’s eyes were wide when he stepped into the room with Matthias behind him, his bowtie crooked and his tuxedo jacket hanging from his hand. “Maverick, holy... Wow.”
Maverick’s brows dipped. “Is that a good wow or a bad wow, because now I’m starting to second-guess myself. Is it too late to change into something else?”
“It’s a holy shit wow,” Killian assured him. “Really, you’re stunning.”
Matty nodded in agreement. “Really stunning.”
Maverick smoothed his hands down the front of his thin shirt. “Are you sure? Because I don’t want people to freak out or act weird when they see me. I brought another shirt in case I chickened out. It’s hanging up in the closet.”
“Mav, stop.” Killian placed his hands on my brother’s shoulders. “Don’t change. You look perfect. Jackson is going to lose his mind.”
I chuckled. “That’s what I said.”
“Damn, Mav, looking good.” Blake whistled softly as he stepped into the room.
Maverick’s cheeks burned bright. “Stop,” he murmured, waving his hand in the hair.
“Honestly, Allen, you look amazing.” Sam tapped my arm to let me know she was done. “I know dressing up and looking fancy isn’t really your thing, but today is your wedding day. That hot hunk of a goalie is just dying to marry you. Don’t you think you deserve to look and feel pretty?”
Maverick nodded. “I guess.”
“You guess?” I gasped. “Maverick, you’ve been in love with Jackson for years. You escaped that horrible life we thought we would never get away from, and today is your big day. You’re going to marry that man and live happily ever after. After Jackson gets over the shock of how hot you look.”
Maverick’s chin quivered. “Don’t make me cry. I don’t want to go out there with red eyes and tear streaks on my cheeks. It’s my wedding day.”
Killian and I locked eyes before I glanced at Blake and then we were all hugging Maverick, the four of us laughing and talking all at once. None of us were making sense, but it was the happiness in my brother’s eyes that mattered. And I was glad that the photographer, Brooklyn Sullivan, wife of NASCAR driver Rand Sullivan, was there and caught the moment.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” Mav interrupted. “For not kicking me out of the band when I deserved to be. And for giving me a second chance.” He nodded at Matty, who smiled. “I know I was a complete dick. None of you deserved the hate I gave you. I’m so glad that you’re here with me today, celebrating my big day. I love you all, and I couldn’t have asked for better family and friends.”
I sniffed. “Now who’s going to make me cry?”
“Seriously.” Killian looked close to tears himself.
