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And then he was on me, just as I’d pictured it—two strides and I was in his arms, swept up into his embrace, mouth crushing mine with the force of a kiss we’d both been waiting for, longing for, dreaming about and remembering. It was like breathing again after being so long underwater you forgot where you were.
It was like coming home.
“You’re home,” I murmured against his lips, the heat of his body burning me like a brand, even through the layers of satin, far too much fabric between us. My God, I wanted him. There was a whole world waiting out there for us, a church full of people—it was Aimee’s day, not mine—but I was so full of him in that moment I could have forgotten it all. That was what Dale Diamond did to me.
“I promised.” He nuzzled my neck, sending delicious shivers down my arms, actually making goose bumps. I clutched at him, flowers still in my hand, arms around his neck, unable to believe he was here, real, flesh. “I told you, I’ll always come for you.”
I smiled at his words, those sweet song lyrics he’d written just for me. They were the first single on his album, just released and doing so well on the charts it was dazzling. I heard “my” song on the radio twenty times a day, saw Dale on MTV more now than I’d ever seen Tyler Vincent back during my dark, obsessive rock star days. And still, I craved more this man.
“I couldn’t wait to come home to you,” he whispered, lips burning a trail along my neck. “I can’t think about anything but you when you’re not with me.”
“I know. Me too.” I moaned softly as his hands moving over my dress, all that flowing, slippery satin. I felt his desperation, his urgency, and met it, using my bouquet of flowers to draw his head in toward me to kiss him hard, giving me a strong, heady combination of sweet roses and Dale to fill my senses. Our tongues met and slid and our mouths and arms locked as we lost and found each other in the moment.
“Okay you two, break it up!” Carrie poked her head in, grinning. “Get a room!”
“I intend to,” Dale whispered, his hand pressed to the flat of my back, keeping me close as he turned to glance at Carrie. I could barely breathe, I wanted him so much. I tried to clear my head but Dale wouldn’t let me go.
“C’mon, we’ve got a wedding about to start out here, remember?” Wendy’s head appeared next to Carrie’s. She was grinning too.
“Right.” I took a deep breath, putting a hand on Dale’s chest and pushing him away—slightly. “Let’s go walk down the aisle, handsome. We’ll get in trouble later.”
He didn’t let me go so easily, bending his head to whisper into my ear, “Promise?”
“With you?” I smiled, twirling away from him in my dress. I felt lighter than air. “That’s always a promise.”
He grinned, following me out the door.
CHAPTER TWO
“I can’t wait to get you home.” Dale pressed his lips to my ear and I shivered, toes curling in my matching dyed-pink heels as his mouth trailed down my exposed neck, forcing me to tilt my head sideways. His hands wandered down the satin back of the dress, stopping at the large pink bow in back, giving it a gentle tug. “And out of this dress.”
“Shhh, Dale.” I giggled, but I didn’t really mean it as he tugged harder, finding it sewn on, just for decoration.
There were bodies dancing all around us to I’ll Be Loving You by New Kids on the Block. It was number one on the charts for weeks in June of 1989—I’d started paying close attention to the Billboard Charts again just like I had back when I was obsessed with rock star Tyler Vincent. I was hoping Dale’s band, Black Diamond, was going to rock that insipid little boy band out of the lead. I Will Always Come For You had climbed the charts like a rocket and was holding at number eight.
Things were finally winding down. Dinner had been sit-down and because I was in the bridal party, I was seated with the rest of the bridesmaids, a solid row of pink. As maid of honor, I sat next to Aimee, who kept groaning and rolling her eyes during dinner because the clatter of knives rapping on champagne glasses kept interrupting the meal, signaling the bride and groom to kiss.
“My lips are going to be chapped!” Aimee had protested, but she hadn’t looked truly unhappy when she turned her face to Matt’s.
After that, everyone mingled. The DJ played everything from Paula Abdul’s Straight Up to Tone Loc’s Wild Thing and Dale pulled me onto the dance floor and wouldn’t let me go. Being on a dance floor with Dale Diamond was like sex and it gave us both an excuse to touch. We clung to each other during the slow songs and dirty danced our way through the fast ones, only we were far worse than Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey had been in the movie. We even dirty danced through that song—The Time of My Life—Dale’s body propelling me around the dance floor like I was attached to him, my pelvis locked with his.
I had insisted on going over to see the cutting of the cake—both because I didn’t want to miss it and because I was so turned-on I thought everyone must be able to tell. I had to have a little break or Dale was going to make me come for him right there on the dance floor! So we’d watched the newlyweds cut the three-tiered columned wedding cake decorated with—of course—pink roses.
Aimee had told me that Matt was planning to get her face full of cake when they fed each other bites of the first-cut piece, but she got him first, smearing it all down his chin. I had never understood that tradition, but they looked like they were enjoying themselves, licking cake off their fingers—and each other.
Then it was back onto the dance floor with Dale and the endless torture of his lean, hard body against mine, the musky, masculine smell of him filling my nostrils, the sweet sound of his voice as he sang along to his song—my song. They were playing it, I Will Always Come For You. My wish had come true—he was here in my arms, this close—yet neither of us could really do what we wanted to. The dance was just a slow, hot tease, heightening my senses and making me dizzy with lust.
The music changed and I lifted my head from Dale’s shoulder in surprise.
“Chicken dance!” Carrie exclaimed, hooking her hands under her armpits, elbows out, flapping her “wings.”
“I think we can sit this one out.” Dale laughed, taking my hand and leading me off the floor. As more people crowded on to do the goofy, traditional chicken dance, Dale pulled me past the tables decorated with pink and white roses as centerpieces, out of the room and down a quiet hallway.
“Where are we going?” I whispered although there was no one there to hear me.
Instead of answering, Dale turned and pressed me to the wall, instantly taking my breath away. His mouth coaxed mine open—not that I needed much coaxing—and I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling his thigh slide snuggly between mine, a perfect fit. His hands moved over my dress with a frustrated urgency, as if fabric was something new and foreign to him, something that just shouldn’t exist between the two of us. And I couldn’t have agreed more.
“Dale!” I gasped when he broke the kiss to trail his mouth down over my collarbone, his hands cupping my breasts through the slippery material. My nipples were so hard they hurt. I ached all over, wanting him, feeling suddenly inadequate to fill his urgent need. Dale eclipsed everything. He gave off a kind of energy everyone noticed, but when he was like this, nuzzling and rutting against me, growling things that might have been words, once, against my skin, he was like a caged animal pacing back and forth, his gaze never leaving his prey.
