"Come here," I said, pulling Nick on top of me. I ran my palm over the tattoo on his bicep. It was a circular maze, one larger than my entire hand, with spear points that seemed to form a compass. It was just like the compass on my wrist, but layered with mythology and ancient history. "What's this all about? I really hope I didn't marry one of those faux-tribal tattoo guys. That would be terrible."
"Terrible?" he repeated, laughing.
"Completely terrible," I said. I held up the condom, glancing at it as if to say,Put this on now before I talk myself out of it for entirely irrational reasons. "The only thing worse would be Chinese characters on your ankle that translate to something entirely different than you think."
He rolled the condom on while I wiggled out of my shirt and undies. "It's the Mayan calendar," he said. His thumb was passing over my nipple, and I really wanted his mouth there. "I got it after my grandmother died."
"You were really close to her," I said. "Could you maybe, um"—I jerked my chin in the direction of his thumb—"uh, use your mouth instead?"
"I'd be happy to," he responded with a sharp nod, and then turned his attention to licking my nipple. That was surprisingly simple, and I was only halfway to bursting into embarrassed flames. "You can ask for anything at all, lovely."
"Mmm, okay," I mumbled. Still halfway to self-immolation.
"What's on the back of your shoulder?"
"Alis volat propriis," I said. "She flies with her own wings."
"Mmmm, that you do."
He levered up on one arm, and smiled down at me as he pressed against my center. This cock of his was an exaggeration. It was the kind of appendage guys pretended they had, and they made sure everyone heard all about it, too.
"I still want you, you know. All these weird things you've said? They just make me like you even more," he continued. His grin said that he knew all about the living legend he had in his pants. "Not the nipple licking thing. That wasn't weird, but the rest of it, the dewy petals and the twats."
I brought my hands to his hips, tugging him closer. "There are tornadoes in my head sometimes," I said, my words growing progressively sharper as he pushed inside me.
"I know," he said as his lips met mine. "But your storms, they don't scare me."
Chapter Six
Erin
Matt and Lauren'swedding was nothing like my own. They had all the trappings of tradition that Nick and I'd skipped last night. Pretty dress, suit and tie, flowers, rings.
We had a lobsterman named Bartlett.
I couldn't decide if the moonstruck urgency of it all made us silly, or that much more serious. As I watched Lauren floating down the petal-strewn aisle on her father's arm with a photographer tucking and rolling around her to get the best shots, I knew she'd have every second of this day documented. Did that make this iteration better or more meaningful, or was it just planned better?
Not that it mattered. Our marriage was a whim, pure and simple, and it would end. At the next Walsh wedding—I was betting on Patrick and the apprentice with all the hair—Nick and I would share a drink and laugh about the wild night when we got married. It would be better that way. I didn't know how to care for a houseplant, let alone another human being, and I'd built my life to those specifications. Love, it wasn't something I could do.
"This is horrible," Riley said, turning away when the officiant started with "Dearly beloved…"
I swung my arm around his shoulders in support. "I know, kid," I whispered. "It'll be over soon."
Nick glanced over his shoulder from the row ahead. He shot a concerned frown at Riley, but I shook my head.
"He's fine," I mouthed. I circled my finger, gesturing for him to turn around.
He didn't.
Nick's gaze pawed over my dark blue dress, stopping first at the v-neck and then raking down the bodice. He stared at my legs, exposed at the knee, significantly longer than necessary.
"I want under that skirt," he mouthed.
"Turn around," I whispered, swatting him with the wedding program. He obeyed my request this time, but not without sending a longing gaze to my breasts. It wasn't gratuitous, and I wasn't objectified. If anything, I was treasured, and that was powerful for me.
The ceremony concluded with a kiss that was too intimate for this audience, and it had Riley dropping his head between his legs. I couldn't tell whether he was nauseous, dizzy, or just avoiding this exceptional display of affection, and I went on patting his back.
"It's over," I said after Matt and Lauren made their way up the aisle.
