Page 60 of Manhattan Bossholes

Piper laughed at me. “There’s no such thing as a quickie with you.”

I caught her smiling mouth against mine, and she melted into the kiss. My body went electric with the need for her as her hands raced along my back to grab my ass.

Yeah, we were doing this.

I started backing her toward a door across the room, never breaking off the kiss and hoping that whatever was on the other side was at least semi-private so I could bury myself in her. By the time we reached it, I was desperate and ready to rip her sundress off.

And the fucking door was locked.

“Damn it,” I said, jiggling it.

Piper let out an angry noise.

The sound of footsteps and voices echoed up the stairs to us.

“Fuck,” I sighed. “They’re coming.”

“Yikes, I need to calm down then.” Piper ran her palm over her hair to smooth it. “Do I look like I was just about to attack you, or do I look like a virginal bridesmaid?”

I laughed at her. “Honestly? You look a little unhinged. And I like it.”

She scowled at me and straightened the sundress I’d just been pulling up her thighs. I leaned over to kiss her once more, and she nipped my lip.

“I promise it’ll be worth the wait,” I murmured to her.

A group of people in black slacks and shirts crested the staircase, no doubt to begin setup in the room. Luckily, they were too focused on what needed to be done to notice the horny, messy couple hovering in the corner.

Piper smiled at me and took my hand.

“We should get down there. Stuff is happening,” she said.

Yeah, stuff was definitely happening inside me as well. I stared at Piper as we headed for the stairs and back down to the madness.

It was an unfamiliar sensation for me, but as long as it felt this good, I wasn’t going to question it.

17

PIPER

“You know, back in my day, a bride exposing her shoulders was considered scandalous,” Nana Dee said with a conspiratorial glint in her eye.

We were standing in a quieter section of the massive room as the cocktail hour began, feeling the love swirling all around us. After the stressful prior day, we were all thrilled that the wedding itself had been a perfectly perfect dream of swoony romance. I’d done my bridesmaidly duties like a pro during the ceremony and the beginning of the reception, and I finally felt like I was off the clock and could enjoy the rest of the night.

Nana Dee and I had finally met, and I’d instantly felt like the woman was my long-lost grandmother. She was an elegant, white-haired stunner in a sparkly purple blazer and dress who loved to laugh as much as I did.

“Really?” I asked. “Scandalous? So you’re saying Chloe’s strapless gown would’ve raised some eyebrows.”

She nodded primly. “Yes indeed. And you’ll never guess what I wore to my wedding.”

“Um, a turtleneck?” I joked.

She threw her head back and downright chortled, the sound of her laughter lighting up the room. It wasn’t just a laugh—it was the kind of full-bodied joy that pulled you in, made you feel like you were in on a secret with her. “A turtleneck! You’re a piece of work, you know that? No, I wore a strapless dress too, because scandal is my middle name!”

I laughed along with her, our connection natural and easy. She launched into the details of her wedding gown, describing the event with the kind of humor and grace that told me this woman had lived through and seen it all, yet managed to keep her spirit intact.

“What are you two gossiping about over here?” Vincent’s father Richard grinned his way over to us then touched his tumbler to our champagne flutes.

“Cheers, love,” Nana Dee said to him as they toasted. “Just chatting about the not-so-good old days, when women were judged for being fashion forward.”