"I need a scotch on the motherfucking rocks," Riley said, wrenching his tie loose as he stood. He didn't wait for me to protest, and I didn't offer. I knew he wasn't going to hear it right now.
It was odd seeing Riley hung up on anything, let alone Matt's new wife. Growing up, he took a lot of hits from Angus, and then he took even more after stepping in to protect me. But through it all, Riley never allowed any of it to bother him. He wasn't haunted by it the way Sam was, and he didn't need to bury it under a mountain of self-inflicted pain like me. He drew in his sketchbook and smoked a lot of weed in the attic, and those were his coping mechanisms.
A hand settled on my back, and I found Nick at my side. "Come on, lovely," he said. "I meant what I said about getting under that skirt."
He led me around the backup of guests showering the happy couple with well wishes, and through a side entrance to the inn. His long legs gobbled up the stairs, and then he had me pinned to my door. His lips ghosted over my neck as his fingers ran up and under my dress to land on my backside.
"Where's your purse?" he asked, his gaze swiveling between my empty hands. "Where's your stuff?"
I reached into the side of my bra and produced my key. "I don't have fancy party purses. All the important stuff's in here," I said, cupping my breasts.
"I'm gonna say this right now: I love you. You're going to tell me I'm ridiculous, but I don't care because you just pulled stuff out of your tits. You're incredible," Nick said as he grabbed the keycard.
"You're right," I said, "youareridiculous."
We were inside within a heartbeat, and he backed me up against the wall.
"They're going to be looking for us," I murmured against Nick's mouth while he slipped out of his suit coat.
"Let them," he said, dropping to his knees in front of me. True to his word, he dove right under my skirt.
My panties were off. My leg was over Nick's shoulder. I had one hand in his hair, one hand flat against the wall for some semblance of balance. But then his tongue stopped doing that crazy-amazing thing that made my toes curl.
He stopped, pressed the softest kiss in the world to my clit, and said, "You are so fucking beautiful right here."
Oh, Jesus.That one hit me hard, and it hit a spot I didn't understand. "Take me," I said, gasping as I pushed his head away, "to the bed. I want you now."
Nick stood, his hands on my backside as he lifted me up. "Yeah?" he asked.
I sighed against his neck, smiling. He was always checking in, asking if I was okay. He'd taken all of my caution and sexual awkwardness, and made it part of our normal. Someday, when he wasn't squeezing my ass, I was going to let that sink all the way in. "Yes," I said, "and take your pants off, too."
My husband, he didn't need to be asked twice. Within an eye blink, I was flat on my back with my skirt around my waist, and within another blink, Nick was pushing inside me. We cried out in unison, a noisy mash up of groans and sighs and swears meant to express that this—this insane, not-gonna-last thing we were doing here—was too amazing for regular words.
I grabbed his tie, yanking him close to me. "What makes this so good?" I asked. "Is it because we're married, or because you're just that incredible in bed?"
"Yes," he said, smiling down at me.
"Don't be a logical asshole while you're fucking me," I said, laughing.
Nick slowed, retreating until I was empty. "Would you rather I stop?" he asked.
"No," I cried. "I'm not done with you yet, and no teasing about stopping."
"It only seems fair," Nick said. His hand moved to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, and he leaned down to kiss me. "And if you giggle again while my dick's inside you, I can't be held responsible for this ending quickly."
I laughed. I couldn't help it. "I'm sorry," I cried as Nick growled into my neck. "You didn't judge me for coming too quick this morning, so I won't judge you. It'll be our little secret."
"One of many," he murmured as he thrust into me again. "But let's just see if I can fuck the giggles right out of you, lovely."
Oh yeah. He did exactly that.
* * *
"How long untilI can get you back here?" Nick asked, meeting my eyes in the bathroom mirror. I was fixing my smudged mascara; he was attempting to blow dry the wrinkles from his shirt and tie. My hair was a mess and a bright flush still lingered on my cheeks, neck, and chest. We both looked thoroughly fucked.
"Listen, dude. You have to pretend we're nothing more than acquaintances and stay on your own damn side of this reception."
"Fuck," he said. "I hate that. You're the smart one in this marriage. Come up with something better."
