"Take it off me," I beg, giving him the push he needs.
It’s mid-afternoon, but the room is darkened, barely lit up by the light peeking through the gaps in the blackout blinds.
He grips my chin with his fingers, pulling my face closer to his, and kisses me deeply. I want to melt into him, tell him he can have me in ways that nobody else ever has, but I don’t. Because no matter how intimate this moment feels, the truth is, he and I barely know each other. No amount of weddings and fake vows will change that.
His hands trace my skin, finding the thin straps at my shoulders, sliding them down my arms as I climb off his lap.The zip on my dress is tugged down, and before I know it, I’m standing in a puddle of silk around my feet.
My hand trembles when I reach for him. I hate that I’m showing him a part of me that’s vulnerable. Real. Raw in a way that scares the shit out of me.
I know we don’t have a lot of time. I know that he and I have people waiting for us—people who will notice our absence if we take too long. But I cannot find it in me to care about anybody else right now.
I need him to kiss me in the places that hurt, need him to fuck me like I'm unbreakable.
And when he takes his time doing both of those things, I feel a deep rooted part of me start to heal.
I let the feeling wash over me.
Because all I see ishim.
All I want is Avery Jones.
Chapter thirty-two
Olive
"There'snomistakingsexhair when I see it, Ol." Jenna attempts to work her magic on the mess up top of my head and make it like before, but I fear it’s no use. Avery made damn sure it would be noticeable. "You could’ve at least been on top for most of it," she says, taking a step back from me to see what else needs touching up.
After what that man did with his mouth and hands, I wouldn’t be surprised if my whole face needs a re-do
The thought alone makes me wish I could float above all this—just for a second—and hear what he’s thinking.
Be in his head.
It's probably quieter than mine.
"I was…for the end."
I shrug, like this is the most casual conversation in the world, and not an open conversation about sex on my wedding day.
Wedding day.
My eye twitches, and she watches me with a sadistic grin like any supportive, non-sister-sister would.
But see that’s the thing. I would never have admitted that in front of Cassandra or Lizzie. They see me as the baby of the family. The innocent, can-do-no-wrong, Olive Herring, who keeps to herself and her guitar, with her nose buried in a notebook.
And sure, that’s partly true, but I never understood how people were so comfortable talking to their family members about shit that happens in their private lives. I keep them on a need-to-know basis. My sister's don't need to know that I like to be fucked and told I’m taking it like a good girl.
That’s for me to know and nobody else—aside from Avery— to find out.
"What did I miss?" Lizzie says, her lipstick freshly re-applied, and her bronzer touched up.
I follow the path she emerged from, only to see Ryder walk out of the same bathroom, fixing his tie, zipping up his pants.
Can’t fault her for that. But again, not my business.
"A whole lot of nothing," Jenna responds, covering for me. I’m beyond grateful to have met her when I did. She gets it. But her reasons for not falling in love in the past were that she never thought of herself as lovable. She saw herself unworthy of it.
But then she met Cole, and everything changed.
