“And to still be here seven years later—”
“Excuse me ladies,” I interrupt, knowing I’ve virtually sneered the word, ladies. “The down and out waif and stray is my girlfriend and as I have never seen or spoken to either of you before I know you are not her friends and can’t know her because if you did you would know she is kind, gracious, beautiful, generous, loving and tolerant. You know, the complete opposite of you two.” I don’t wait for their reaction, I just turn my attention back to the wedding.
My girl has her back to me now, her back and fucking glorious behind that the dress is covering seductively as it skims her hips and legs. Yeah, we need some alone time, very soon.
The service is a pretty typicallove forever, make a home and a family, never cheat, lie or hurtkind of affair, not that I heard all of it because I’ve been unable to take my eyes off my girlfriend.
Watching her walk back up the aisle is a killer because she is on the arm of the best man who even I think is attractive with his dazzling white smile, tall and broad frame and the kind of hair that looks designer messy without even trying. It takes me ages to wax mine into such disorganised perfection. What the fuck is the matter with me? I am mentally comparing hair with a man who is grinning like he has won the fucking lottery. Maybe he thinks he has if he believes the best man and maid of honour are on for tonight.
I ignore the two young women beside me, unwilling to give them a single glance after they slagged Olivia off when they clearly don’t know her or they would see that she has been treated unfairly most of her life and doesn’t deserve to be the victim of derogatory speculation at social functions.
I wait patiently until it’s my turn to leave my seat and follow the procession to the reception where the bride and groom are waiting to receive their guests next to the wedding cake. My eyes immediately land on Olivia who is approaching the happy couple, drawing their attention to the cake, specifically the bride and groom topper and then raucous laughter rattles around the room as Sarah and Jed see my girl’s gift to them and hug her.
The bride’s mother seems more relaxed, happier now and manages a laugh when she sees what they’re laughing at, wagging a finger in Olivia’s direction before kissing her. I see Ridley hone in on her, pulling her in for a hug, a gentle kiss on the cheek and a whisper in her ear that makes her smile a seriously sexy smile that makes me harder than I already am, but it’s the sight of the handsome best man that has me marching over there with my blood boiling as he reaches for her and attempts to pull her away, to be alone with him.
“Not happening arsehole,” I say, already putting one foot in front of the other, determined to reclaim my girl.
Chapter 32
Olivia
I am still smiling at Ridley’s words about having met my big, brooding and devilishly handsome boyfriend who introduced himself before the service when the best man, Nay, short for Naylor, his surname, comes across and grabs my hand in an attempt to lure me away from everyone else. If I wasn’t very, very happy with Mason I might allow him to do just that because he is funny, kind and very handsome. We even dated for a few weeks between some of my Brad days.
He is between girlfriends. I know this because he told me as we walked back up the aisle, plus Sarah had pre-warned me last night. Nay is one of Jed’s friends, his best friend from way back when and it’s very clear that he is looking for a hook-up tonight.
I am unsure why he has zeroed in on me though because when all is said and done, I am not a hook-up kind of girl, not until I met Mase anyway, and Nay knows that as we didn’t sleep together when we kind of dated. Shit! I curse inwardly. We didn’t have sex, but we did stuff; we kissed, and touched, messed around a bit. My sudden recollection and horrified and embarrassed flush to my skin must be evident to him.
The memory is coming back to me in flashing images; Nay and me on his sofa, still clothed, kind of, his hand in my pants and my hands on him, on his penis. We had both been very drunk and it had all been a bit awkward, especially when he was ready to burst, and I still couldn’t quite get there.
After he came and eventually made me come, just as I was ready to fake it, I made coffee, hoping to hide my embarrassment. When I returned to him, I found he’d fallen asleep so just left. Maybe he doesn’t remember because neither of us has ever mentioned it since and we have met several times.
“Liv.” He tugs me towards a quiet area near the top table. “You look fantastic and as I’m single again and you and Brad are done—”
“I have a boyfriend,” I interrupt.
“I don’t mind.” He smirks looking like the charming rogue I know him to be, making me laugh.
“I do, and he would.”
“One night, that’s all I’m suggesting. I think about you, often, the way you look when you come.”
Okay, so he does remember. I feel the hairs on my body lift, every fibre of me on high alert meaning just one thing, Mason Harding is nearby and I really, really don’t want him to walk in on this and for it to spoil a wonderful day and an even better night together.
“I have a boyfriend, a boyfriend I really like, as in love,” I tell Nay with a serious expression.
“Good to know we’re on the same page there, baby.” Mason comes up behind me, wrapping one arm around my middle as he kisses my exposed shoulder making my skin burn where he touches it. “I’m the boyfriend she likes, as in loves,” Mason adds with an outstretched hand forcing Nay to release my wrist that he’s still holding onto.
“I remember you, from the stag night,” Nay says with a warm grin and an unfazed demeanour. “Didn’t realise you were together, although I was seriously pissed by the time we hit the club.”
“Yeah, I recall.” Mase offers him a smile and an easy shrug. “Sorry to interrupt, but I really need to steal Olivia away.” He’s already cupping my elbow to guide me towards the exit when an announcement for everyone to take their seat is heard. “Bollocks!” Mase hisses making me laugh.
“Was that not part of the plan, babe?” I’m still laughing.
“Nope! The plan was me, you and somewhere private; a toilet, bedroom, cupboard, oh, and if you call me babe again I might just drag you off anyway.”
“How romantic, me, you and a toilet. I promise it will be worth the wait.” I’m already wandering to my seat.
The convention of the wedding lunch and speeches seem to take forever, made worse by the fact that I am seated at the top table and Mason is not, although he is nearby. Close enough to see, to look at and share smiles and glances with. Eventually the formalities come to a close and the bride and groom take to the dance floor with a captive audience, including me wrapped in Mason’s embrace, his arms loosely draped around my middle, holding me from behind, pulling me ever closer with his mouth against my ear.
