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I deepen the kiss, enjoying her demanding tongue. It’s as if not a day has passed since we last kissed. Her fingers run through my hair, pulling me closer, my own hands desperate to feel more of her. I work on her back, moving one hand under her blouse and the other inside her jeans.
She lets out a surprised yelp, followed by a small laugh. Then she starts undoing the buttons of my shirt. I throw it on the floor as soon as she’s done and start planting kisses down her neck, along her collarbone, while my hands keep tracing her body.
“Brian,” she almost sings my name. “Our little show is only for our audience.”
She braces both hands on my chest and pushes me away. But there’s no force in the gesture.
“A bit of practice wouldn’t hurt,” I say and let us both fall onto the bed. She sinks beneath me in the soft mattress, but her hands remain on my chest, keeping me at a distance.
“We came here for a very specific purpose,” she reminds me, and although her voice is now steady, her eyes tell me what she wants. “Get off me.” The last sentence is a demand, but I can’t bring myself to move.
Her nails slowly sink into my skin, her intention clear this time. I roll to my side, and she jumps off the bed. She straightens her blouse—not that I got the chance to do much to it—and looks at me with another indecipherable expression.
“My family is waiting at the restaurant. I told my mom we’d head back immediately.” Her eyes linger on my hard-on. “I guess you might need some time until you can join us.”
She is enjoying this, isn’t she?
I grab her hand before she can leave. “We are in this together, remember?”
“I do but I don’t see how—”
I force a laugh. “Don’t worry about that, Love.” I let go of her and reach for my shirt. I just need to focus on something else for a minute and this damn pain will go away.
Carol nods, almost indifferent now. She grabs her suitcase and opens it on the floor. “Can you believe there’s no couch or even a bench here?” she asks, like nothing just happened between us seconds ago.
My suspicion that she’s doing this on purpose grows stronger. But I can’t complain, can I?
She picks up a small bundle of clothes and heads to the bathroom to change. By the time she’s ready, I’m good to go too.
The light blue dress she’s chosen hugs her curves like it was tailored for her body. She’s pulled her hair up into a ponytail, revealing her delicate neck, with tiny, almost invisible red marks on one side, fleeting proof that my lips were there.
I offer her my arm and she takes it, any trace of weakness or doubt she has had all these days, gone. We head back to the hotel, following the same path, and cross to the other side where the restaurant is.
The resort is truly beautiful, a gem right in the middle of the city. It’s not the most expensive place, which is normal—they are paying for the accommodation of their extended family after all—but I don’t think it lacks in anything compared to the hotels I’ve stayed in these last few years. On the contrary, there’s a warmth to it. Or maybe it’s because I’m here with her and her family that makes me feel that.
The restaurant adjoins the main hotel building but part of the front, and the entire left side, are covered in windows. From what I can see, it’s almost empty although there’s laughter coming from inside.
Carol’s grip tightens suddenly. She moves closer to the front window and motions at the family sitting by the window. They have joined two tables and even from here, I can see a mountain of food waiting for us.
“That’s my sister, Emily,” Carol gestures to a pretty girl with dark hair like hers.
Emily is on her feet, her green dress matching the view from the window, a glass in her hand. Next to her is a young black-haired man, wearing a simple gray t-shirt. Judging by the look of pure adoration on his face, he must be her fiancé.
Carol confirms that and explains in a hushed voice that by his side are his parents and two sisters while her parents sit across from them. I can’t see their faces—their backs are turned to us—but I can see the two empty seats next to them.
It’s a bit weird to be part of this. Perhaps if the groom’s sisters had their partners at the table, this meeting would be more balanced but now… I shake the worry away. This is about Carol, not me.
I try to take a step forward but her hand, still linked with mine, holds me back. She seems deep in thought again, biting her lip, and scanning the room.
“Are you getting cold feet?”
“No, not at all. It’s just… I wish I didn’t have to do this.”
“Carol.” She doesn’t meet my gaze, but her eyes widen. The clicking of heels, followed by another cheerful call, has her attention again.
“Emily.” There’s warm emotion there but also… I’m not sure what.
Emily stops in front of us, not going for an embrace like her mother did minutes earlier.
