Page 5 of Forever After Fall

“There you are!” Hazel looks between us. “I need some more photos of us out here with the lights like this.”

“Your wish is my command.” I curtsy in front of her like she’s a queen, and she laughs before she pulls Marlowe and me, one of us to each side, and marches us arm in arm out to the balcony.

TWO

Anson

I’m groping for a light switch on the wall when the door pops open and light floods the room for the briefest of seconds, illuminating a closet full of racks of whiskey bottles. I drop the flashlight I’m holding and it smacks my foot before it turns off. I let out a soft groan as I turn to see who my fellow retrieval specialist is when the door slams shut and a soft palm clamps down over my mouth. There’s a soft, feminine giggle as the owner of said palm runs her free hand up my chest and arrives at my shoulder, using the leverage to push me up against the wall.

The sound of her laugh and the scent of her hair as she brushes up against me are a dead giveaway.

Bristol.

She must have run into the guys after me and decided to make sure everything was taken care of, probably convinced I need her help finding the backup bottles of whiskey for tonight’s second toast. I’m just about to say something when she speaks.

“You’ve got to be quiet if we’re doing this.” She uses the softest of conspiratorial whispers as her nails track down over my button-down shirt and back up again as she continues to hold me prisoner in the silence. “I don’t need my best friend finding out I’m hooking up with her brother in the closet at the reception because she hears your voice. Got it?”

Questions run through me like an avalanche. So many that I can’t even decide which one to ask first. She doesn’t give me any room to mull them over.

Before I have time to process what she’s said, her palm slips free, and the loss of warmth is replaced by the heat of her kiss. She’s eager and sweet all at once, taking tentative passes and nipping my lower lip as she feels me out in the dark of this closet.

I have no idea what’s gotten into her. Why, after all this time of treating me like a platonic friend of the family, she’s decided she wants more out of me. Maybe it’s the wedding. Watching two of her three best friends walk down the aisle and commit to an eternity with two of the Stockton brothers might have made her think that taking wild chances can pay off. Maybe all the songs about love and toasts to soulmates made her desperate for something that feels real. She finally called it quits with her asshole of an ex a couple of months ago, and I imagine a wedding isn’t the easiest place to be when you’re newly single.

Whatever the reason, she’s determined to have her way tonight, and I’m not sure I could stop her even if I wanted to. And to be honest, I don’t have any interest in dissuading her. I’ve wanted to know what Bristol Finley tastes like for a while now. In the wee hours of the morning when I’m back from a long drive out to a worksite, or when the day has just been too damn long for me to censor the flashes of her in my kitchen or garden, I’ve thought about what it would be like to pin her against the cabinets the exact same way she has me trapped against this wall. That’s been my secret for longer than I want to admit.

“Well, you can kiss. I’ll give you that,” she says with a smile I can hear in her voice but not see in this pitch-black void as she pulls away from me after she’s gotten the taste she wanted. “But I thought you liked control. I hope you’re not losing your edge after all these years. If we’re finally going to see if this works, I don’t want milquetoast effort,” she taunts.

She tries to stir a reaction out of me. She does this when she wants to push my buttons. Has for years. But I’m distracted by her assessment. I’ve made damn sure that she’s never seen my rough side. She doesn’t know half the things I’ve done or the kind of control I’ve enjoyed having. Or at least I thought she hadn’t.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask who told her what. The people who know my secrets wouldn’t be eager to share them. But she cuts me off again when her fingers trail down my stomach and over my belt.

“I need someone who can pin me down and fuck me hard. A big dick to back up his big ego. I won’t settle for less than that. You think you can handle that?”

Fuck. Me.

I don’t waste words to prove I can. I wrap my hand around her neck and take her jaw in a vice grip as I spin us around, changing our position and putting her up against the wall. She lets out a sigh of approval before my lips reach her throat. I kiss my way down her neck, making slow, methodical work of kissing every single inch of her skin on the way down. She arches off the wall as I pull the strap of her dress aside to kiss my way across. I nip the peak of her shoulder and then return to peeling back her dress, kissing my way down over the curve of her breast as she lets out a soft sigh.

I pause when I reach the neckline of her dress, my fingers curled over the edge, seconds from freeing her from the fabric. I’m waiting for her approval. We’ve already barreled through three or four different warning signs on the way to this point, but there’s still time to turn around.

“Do it,” she demands.

I’m not used to being told what to do. I’m used to giving the orders. But in this instance, I’m grateful to have her making some of the decisions. I want her fully on board with every step we take into whatever the fuck this is we’re doing. I can’t even put a name to it yet.

I pull down, and her breast slips free from the delicate boning of the cup, and I resume my attention to the task at hand. I kiss her soft skin in intermittent presses of my lips that alternate with brief scrapes of my teeth before I reach her nipple. I can feel it start to peak under my thumb and forefinger, and I wrap my lips around it and suck.

She arches off the wall, making a keening sound as her hands search for purchase against my dress shirt.

“Oh my god. That feels so good.” She breathes the words out, and one hand slips over my shoulder and digs into my back through my jacket. “Oh god. Suck harder.”

I do as she asks, and her hands return to my waist, tugging at my dress shirt and pulling it free before her hands slip underneath, slightly cooler than my fevered skin in this hot little black chasm we’ve managed to create for ourselves. I suck in a breath, and her hands trace up the lines of my hips, inward as her fingers follow the contours of my abs where they come to an abrupt halt.

“Um, wow. I didn’t realize you had all this. Sleeper build? I guess all the construction work would mean you stay in shape,” she whispers.

The construction work. The time in the gym with Ford keeping him company. The long runs I take through town in the morning when I wake up and can’t go back to sleep. Bending my body to my will is part of the discipline that keeps me grounded. I suppose it has its underappreciated benefits. But I don’t feel like discussing any of it. Right now, I just want to enjoy what’s in front of me.

I swirl my tongue around the tip of her nipple and suck harder, stealing her breath away for half a moment before she makes another breathless request.

“The other one. Please.”