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Maceo steps in front of me and runs his large hands over my scrawny arms. “I would never ask you to do something that would hurt you, baby.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I’ll go to the appointments and give her the fake information, but I’m done talking with any therapist until we stop the hacker and Lorenzo.”
Maceo brushes his thumb over my cheek before leaning in to kiss me. And kiss me he does, ‘till I’m gasping.
I need this. I need to forget about all the bullshit for a while and focus on Maceo and me. I know it’s not going to fix our problems, but it will remind us that we have each other, and we’ll make it through this.
Heat floods my veins from Maceo’s touch. Within seconds I’m wet between my thighs. I shove him with all my might onto our bed. His hearty laugh fills the room when I straddle his waist. Clearly, I’m turning him on because his dick is growing rock hard and pressing against my sex.
“As much as I want to christen our new bed, I need to get back to work, and you have a final fitting if I’m not mistaken,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
I pout and roll off of him onto my back. Maceo turns on his side and captures my lips in a searing kiss before climbing off the bed. He opens the door a crack and stops with a curse, adjusting himself through his jeans without shame. No matter how much he tries to reposition his junk, he’s still sporting a tent.
I giggle and bite my bottom lip seductively when he scowls at me.
“You think it’s funny when I have to go face my brothers with a hard chub?”
“Like you’re not leaving me with damp panties?”
A growl builds in his chest. He stalks forward, positioning himself between my legs. “Fuck it. Spread for me, Pixie.”
We’re in the middle of an intense groping session when there’s a knock at the slightly open door. Maceo groans and tries to pull away, but I lock my ankles around his waist. “Go away!” I sing out to whoever is in the hall.
Gauge pops his head in the room and gives me an apologetic look. “Prez, the shrink is here.”
“Coming,” Maceo grumbles at the same time, I say, “Not yet.”
Maceo chuckles, hoists himself up with me still hanging onto him, and kisses me one last time. He sets me back on my feet and brushes the back of his fingers over my cheek. “I’ll see you later, beautiful. Don’t forget to take Punk and Tony with you to the bridal boutique.”
Having Tony escort me to the bridal store worries me. “I don’t know if Tony should go back there.”
Jacob’s minion nearly bashed in Tony’s brains with a baseball bat when Tony was guarding me outside the dressing room. I’m sure he doesn’t want to relive the memories any more than I do, and walking into the store is sure to trigger emotions for both of us.
“I already talked with Tony and offered him an out. He told me he goes where you go.” He looks at me with concern. “Are you going to be okay going back there?”
No.But I can’t tell him this, or else he’ll insist he come with. I don’t want him to see me in my gown before our wedding. It’s bad luck, and we’ve had enough of it lately—no point in tempting fate.
I give him my most convincing nod before he heads out with Gauge. I’m left alone in our suite, cursing myself for not having brought clean underwear for my fitting.
* * *
I’m at my final fitting with my wedding party, my mom, and my two bodyguards.
I thought this would be a good pre-wedding event to bring along my mom. My dress is already picked out, and there’s nothing she can say to dampen my mood.
Well, I was wrong.
My mom observes me with a wrinkled nose. “This is your wedding dress?”
The happy demeanor I was sporting has evaporated the moment I hear her disapproving tone. “Yes, this is the dress,” I say with an eye roll. I know I shouldn’t be nasty to my mom, but she’s making it damn difficult with her negative remarks.
Maceo’s words play on repeat in my brain.Give them a chance. Try to be cordial. Don’t cut them to ribbons.
I’m trying to be nice for Maceo’s sake, and I’ve been hitting it off great with my dad, but I’m finding the feat tricky when it comes to my mom. She is the queen of backhanded compliments and has no problem voicing her opinion whether you ask for it or not.
My mom grimaces. “Well, it’s awfully provocative.”
“No, it’s not, mom.”And if it is, I definitely want to wear it for my future husband.
