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Karessa is better off without me
* * *
The wedding march begins, and Karessa appears with her dad. I know it was an internal struggle for her, but she felt if this were her only wedding, she’d want the memory. The tension bounces between them, but Dondi looks at me with gratitude as he mouths his thank you for going through with it. He fades away when I zero in on Karessa. Fuck, she’s beautiful. Her hair, brown with blonde streaks, flows in soft waves around her shoulders. Even tense, her body moves with natural grace. The delicate crystal beading of her sweetheart bodice, amplifies her modest cleavage and carries itself down the front, peaking out of the full tulle shirt. Catching a glimpse of orange, I realize her shoes are my favorite color.
Most men who marry for the right reasons feel overwhelming love when their bride is approaching. I feel lust. The kind of lust I’m not allowed to feel because there will not be a wedding night or honeymoon for us. This is a contract created by her dad and carried out by us.
The ceremony is a blur with me being on auto-pilot just repeating what he asked of me. I’m not supposed to feel anything but trapped when I slide her wedding band on, but pride surges in my chest when she lights up with delighted surprise once she realizes I changed her band. Like the rest of the stuff I gave her, her band is a ring of diamond-filled five petal cherry blossoms in rose gold.
Karessa actually smiles when she slides my matching ring onto my waiting finger. Unlike hers, mine has the flower pattern engraved inside the ring, making it only visible if I’m not wearing it. It’s not supposed to feel this easy. Maybe it’s the loophole in the prenup, but I don’t feel the suffocation I’d expected.
“You may kiss the bride.” Everyone stills at the announcement.
Since Jagger and Ainslee were the last two to get married, everyone is on the edge of their seats with their cameras ready to see what Karessa and I will do. She looks at me expectantly, but Jagger’s warning still rings in my head.
Will kissing her make me want more?
Karessa cheeks color with the embarrassment my hesitation caused and I can feel her hand slipping out of mine. Part of me thinks it’s best until I catch Elmer’s predatory gleam as he folds his arms smugly. He still thinks he has a chance to steal her from me. Tightening my grip on her hand, I pull her against my chest. Her surprise leaves her lush lips agape, giving me the advantage. Cupping her cheek, I claim her mouth. Her bouquet bounces off my shoe once I deepen the kiss by sweeping my tongue inside. Esme acts fast and snatches the bouquet off the ground. Karessa’s now free hand digs into my bicep as she holds on to me.
Our guests cheer and catcall. I’m not thinking about them. This kiss is for me, and I greedily take it in, drinking from my forbidden taste because. This just might be our first and last kiss. Karessa’s groan when my tongue sweeps across hers is enough for me to pull away. The fog clears and I remember at least one hundred people are watching. Good for her. If we were anywhere else, I would have already broken the six-month rule.
“I fucking knew it,” Jagger whispers, but it’s loud enough for the officiator to give him a side eye.
Lacing my fingers through hers, I pull her with me towards the door. More cheers erupt when we’re announced as Mr. and Mrs. Oran Hale. I all but wink at my father on the way out the door. We forgo the private moment alone as she leads me through the reception area then outside to take wedding pictures. We did every normal combination. Karessa and me. The wedding party: Karessa, Esme, Jagger, and me. Her family, my family (I kept my dad next to me), and both families. I didn’t smile in many to keep my cheeks from hurting.
This time, I notice the color theme of the reception and wonder what is her deal with orange? Breaking tradition, we go to the middle of the dance floor for our first dance. I pull her soft body close to mine and feel low level confusion when I notice we’re dancing to a woman’s sultry yet sad rendition of Chris Isaac’s Wicked Game.
The sorrowful song is such an odd choice for a wedding, but that’s the state of our union. Two people forced into each other’s arms against their will. Gifts won’t change that. As the song goes, the further she sinks into her depression. I don’t have to see her face to know. I feel it. Her body isn’t erect and poised. She’s not trying to do any formal form of the dance. Instead, her hands squeeze the crook of my elbows and her body is melded to mine, her head on my chest as we sway to the music.
I maintain a straight face, but the song hurts. It tugs at my emotions in ways it shouldn’t. She’s working herself into places inside me I don’t want her to be. This is a wicked game. I’m mad she’s the way she is, easy. Why couldn’t I get a spoiled brat easy to hate?
I ignore the crowd and the flashes of light as professionals and amateurs take all the photos they can manage.
I need a moment. Karessa needs a moment. We need a moment. Locking my fingers with hers, I lead her away from the reception and crowd and into our private room. Once the door closes, some oxygen returns to my chest. Leaning against the closed door, I feel like I can breathe again.
Until Karessa attacks my lips with hers.
Chapter 10
Karessa
I stopped thinking and let instinct override my objections. Oran’s surprise has him freezing with his hands pressing on the door. I’m awash with conflicting emotions and need to know what’s real. Our wedding kiss was everything I’ve ever wanted from a kiss and more. I need to know if it’s him or if it was the rush of the moment. Grabbing his bow tie, I pull him closer to deepen the kiss. As a firm believer of the man doing the pursuing, I’m usually not so bold, but he’s awakened something within me I didn’t know existed.
Oran is still stunned and just when I’m about to write it off as a fluke, he grabs me with the same possessive touch he had earlier. He growls low as he grabs the back of my head and gives me what I crave. Rubbing my body on him, I’m suddenly mad at my decision to have a beautiful layered dress. I take off and toss the tulle overlay, but my dress is still a jeweled floor-length masterpiece. Unable to feel his hand grazing my breasts or my ass, I pull away frustrated with the damn thing. I want to climb him.
Chuckling, Oran puts more distance between us.
“Trapped by your dress? It’s okay. We’re not having sex, anyway.”
I balk at his words as he studies the suit I have laid out for him. “What do you mean?”
He peeks at me for a second then picks up the tie I picked out for him and rubs his thumb across the bronze orange material. That thumb is supposed to be on me.
“Our marriage is in name only.
You know we’re not an actual couple.”
I clench and unclench my fists to regain my composure. We have a ballroom full of people waiting for us. I can’t go ape shit right now.
