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I can’t breathe. It feels like a cloud of butterflies is taking flight in my chest. “Loser,” I whisper.
He smiles then, so bright and sudden it almost hurts my eyes. “Layla,” he murmurs, his big hands cupping my cheeks.
“Josh!” I glance around us. “People could see—”
“Don’t care,” he murmurs, bending down and tugging my mouth to his.
***
FIFTY-EIGHT
***
JOSH
I’m almost dizzy with happiness as I kiss Layla slowly, holding her close.
I’m having the best damn day.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m tired as Hell. Since five this morning, I’ve been ironing ties, picking up clothes from the dry cleaners, and bringing people coffee. While she was getting ready, Amy kept writing soppy little romantic notes to my brother and demanding I pass them on to him. I probably would’ve refused, if he wasn’t so goddamn happy every time I came in with another one.
Pulling back from Layla for a second, I glance back at the dance floor. Rob is out there with Amy, twirling her under his arm to the band music. Warmth glows in my chest. He looks like he’s walking on air.
God, I love weddings.
Layla sighs, leaning against my chest, and I look back down at her. As if this day could get any better, now I have the most gorgeous woman in the room in my arms. I nuzzle into her temple, kissing down her hairline and across her ear. “This dress is incredible,” I murmur, smoothing the mint silk over her skin.
She doesn’t answer, yanking my mouth back down to hers. I tug her bottom lip slowly between my teeth, sucking on the soft flesh, and she makes a low choking sound, a shudder wracking through her.
I pause. Layla’s never usually this receptive. I suddenly realise that she’s sweating, trembling slightly against me. Her breath is coming in small, sharp pants.
“Hey.” I pull away. “Layla.”
She turns her face away, burying it in the front of my shirt. I run a hand down her back, left bare in her dress, and another shiver runs through her, more violent than the first.
This isn’t right. I carefully peel her away from me.
“Sweetheart?” I stroke her hair back from her eyes. Her face is bright red, and her chest is heaving. I frown, cupping her cheek. “Hey. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she mutters, leaning against me like she doesn’t trust herself to stand upright.
I’m getting increasingly alarmed now. I slide my hands down to her waist, holding her up. “Yes?”
She huffs. “Zack and Luke…” she bites her lip.
“Hm?”
“They…” she shudders against me as I stroke her back. “Ugh. You remember those balls that Zack gave me? From Sinsters?”
I blink at the change of subject. “I… yes?”
She gives a little shrug, shifting her weight slightly. “They put them inside me.”
I stare at her as all of the blood rushes out of my head. It takes a moment for her words to sink in. Then I swear.
“Christ, Layla. You were sitting there with toys inside you through that whole ceremony?”
“Yes,” she whispers, pushing closer. I can feel the strain in her body, the slight tremble in her hips. She’s been on the edge for a while.
