Second Opinion (7 page)

“Now?”

She nodded.

We took our drinks and headed up with a quick stop by Avery’s room to pick up the decorations. She had actual rose petals, a bottle of champagne and glasses, chocolate covered strawberries, a bouquet of flowers, candles, and a book of matches.

I carried half of her supplies while she got the other half, and we set everything down on the dresser.

“Where do you want to start?” I asked. My voice was laced with meaning.

“Well, Grant, I’d like to start by kissing you. Then I’m thinking you can move your lips wherever the fuck you want.”

My eyes met hers. “I meant the decorations.”

She took a step toward me. “I know what you meant.”

I took a step toward her. “I thought we were waiting until the end of the day.”

She took the final step that closed the space between us. Our bodies were nearly pressed together, but we weren’t touching. We just stood for a moment, eyes locked on eyes as breathing increased. Her tongue darted to wet her lip, sending a stroke of desire straight to my cock.

I reached out and cupped my hand around her neck. “You are dangerous, Avery.” Her lips were on mine and her arms were wrapped around my waist before I knew what hit me. I did what I wanted to do all fucking day.

I pulled on the skirt of her dress until I felt the material gather in my hands, and then I reached down, my mouth still connected to hers, and ran my fingertips up her thighs until I felt the soft, bare skin of her ass. I ran my palm along the smooth surface as I moaned into her, and she returned the moan into my mouth as her tongue twisted violently against mine.

As my fingertips skated from one of her ass cheeks to the other, I made the discovery that she wasn’t wearing panties.

She. Wasn’t. Wearing. Panties.

Jesus Christ.

I ran my fingertip down the slit of her ass and was millimeters away from the pussy that surely ached for me when a soft rap at the door interrupted our stolen moment.

“Fuck,” Avery whispered, and she quickly pressed her lips to mine once more. I shoved my hips toward hers so she’d know how fucking horny she’d made me. She grinned and moved across the room, smoothing the skirt of her dress while I was left behind to gain my composure as she opened the door.

“Hey, Veronica. We were just getting started.”

Disappointment lanced through me as I thought about what could’ve happened if we hadn’t been interrupted. But the logical part of my brain took over, reminding me this was my
sister’s
bridal suite and getting down and dirty with Avery in there may have been crossing the line.

The three of us decorated the room; or, rather, the girls decorated the room while I handed them shit from Avery’s bags. I didn’t quite have the decorative talents they possessed.

I wondered if Veronica could sense the building sexual tension between Avery and me. She kept shooting me secret glances behind Veronica’s back, and whenever she could, she found reasons to touch me. A soft hand on my arm here, a touch of her fingertips there, a brush of her breasts against me as if the huge suite we stood in was too small to accommodate both of our bodies.

All those little things only heightened everything I was already feeling toward her.

Typically the bride and groom couldn’t wait for the night to end so they could go to their hotel room and spend the night naked.

At this particular wedding, however, it was the best man and one of the bridesmaids who were anxious for the evening to end.

I was at the bar when the deejay summoned me. It was time for my speech. I was never one to shy away from the limelight, so I stood and took the microphone from the deejay to deliver my well-thought out speech. I knew my sister assumed it would be filled with sexual innuendo and perversion, but I took the high road.

And by “high road,” I meant I took the advice I found on Wikipedia for writing speeches.

“Let me start by thanking everyone who is here today. Some have travelled here from Wisconsin, and others have just driven in locally from the Phoenix area. It’s wonderful to have you all here to celebrate this day with Reed and Quinn. I first met Reed at a training a long time ago. Everything about him screamed Midwestern boy. I’ve never told either of you this,” I said, looking at the bride and groom, “but when I first met him, I thought of you, Quinn. And today as I watched the two of you pledge your commitment, it’s clear to me why I thought of you. It was like I somehow knew you two belonged together. I’ll never forget the look on your face when you walked into Mom and Dad’s house, totally hung over and looking like hell, and there sat Reed.” A rustle of laughter made its way through the crowd.

I continued. “I think about that moment often, because it so encapsulates who you are. You’re a firecracker, but Reed calms you. You found a really, really good guy, the best, and I’m proud to call him my brother today. From the moment Reed met you, he was sure you would be worth it. And I for one am glad he never gave up on that, because seeing how happy the two of you are today gives everyone in this room hope and happiness.” I watched as my sister wiped a stray tear from her eye. “Reed, you’re my best friend and now part of my family. I know with you, I don’t even have to warn you about what I’ll do if you ever hurt my sister, because I know you’ll never hurt her. Take care of each other. Love each other. Give the rest of us hope that we can find the same happiness you two have found.” I held my glass in the air. “To Mr. and Mrs. Reed Porter.”

Reed stood and we shared a manly hug complete with pounding each other on the back. I hugged my sister, and Veronica started her speech.

After dinner, the customary dances took place. The bridal party stayed seated as we watched Quinn and Reed dance to “All of Me” by John Legend. Then Quinn and our dad danced, followed by Reed and his mom. And then it was time for the bridal party dance. We had to dance with our partners, which meant I was paired with Veronica. She was a lovely woman, but she was married and clearly in love with her husband while I couldn’t stop watching Avery with Paul. His hands moving dangerously close to her ass gave me anxiety.

“Is something going on between you and Avery?” Veronica asked.

I grinned down at her. “Nope.”

“Liar.” She giggled.

I chuckled.

“It’s really sweet you’re not stepping on your sister’s day.”

“I could never do that to her. Neither could Avery.”

“But when today’s over?” she pressed.

“We’ll see, I guess.”

“She’s been after Quinn to hook you two up for years.”

I shrugged. “I had no idea.”

“Men are so blind sometimes,” she said, managing to elicit another chuckle from me as her eyes darted over to her husband.

“It became pretty obvious to me last night when she showed up at my door.”

“Classic Avery.”

“She’s cool with a non-relationship, right?”

“She’s been known to play the field. I don’t know what she’s after, though. That’s something you’ll have to ask her.”

“Thanks.”

“Be careful with each other,” she said as the last strains of Bon Jovi’s “I’ll Be There for You” died out. The deejay invited the bridal party to bring their dates to the dance floor. I hugged Veronica, and Jesse walked up to us.

“Mind if I cut in?” he asked good-naturedly.

“Be my guest. Nice chat, Veronica.”

“You too, Grant,” she said, her eyes lighting up as Jesse took her in his arms. I felt Reese’s eyes on me trying to offer a friendly dance since she hadn’t brought a date, but she ended up with Paul when Avery made her way toward me.

The first notes of O.A.R.’s “Peace” started playing, and I pulled Avery into my arms. I felt a flash of déjà vu, but I wasn’t sure what experience I was recalling.

I listened to the words of the song as I held Avery in my arms. Our eyes met, and I raised my eyebrows as she smiled wickedly up at me. The soft, floral scent of her shampoo wafted up to my nose, and I inadvertently inhaled.

That was my first mistake.

You don’t inhale the scent of a woman you’re just planning to bang.

You inhale the scent of a woman you’re developing feelings for.

I’d known Avery for years. Why was I suddenly seeing her in a new light? Why did I feel happier when I was holding her in my arms?

And why did Veronica’s admission that Avery “played the field” piss me off so much?

If anyone “played the field” here, it was me. Why the fuck would
she
play the field? Wasn’t that more of a guy thing?

Even as I thought it, I knew it was a sexist thing to think. Why were women who played viewed as slutty, but it was fine for men? It was a clear double standard my sister had once pointed out to me.

I didn’t know the answer, but what I did know was that holding Avery in my arms felt good. It felt right.

And it confused the living fuck out of me.

I wasn’t even thinking of banging her while I was holding her. I was consumed by her floral scent. Normally I hated flowery smells, but hers was clean and fresh. I wanted to take her on a date. I wanted to kiss her like we had kissed the night before.

Of course I wanted her hands (and her mouth) on my cock. Of course I wanted to bang her. But as we swayed softly to the music, I wanted more.

It was the first time there was even an inkling in my mind of “more” since Rachelle.

Neither of us spoke, but we didn’t have to. Words became unnecessary as our bodies spoke for us. We both knew what was coming, and I was starting to worry if we did talk, if we spoke the things we were both feeling, there would be no turning back. The way we had things set up, we would hook up later that night, and that would be the end of it.

That was all I wanted.

And I knew if I kept reminding myself it was all I wanted, I would start to actually believe it was true.

The song ended and LMFAO’s “Party Rock” blared through the speakers, forcing us apart from our intimate moment. Her eyes locked on mine briefly before she turned to dance with the rest of the girls in the bridal party.

And when those big, brown eyes met mine, it was confirmed. I knew she was developing the same feelings for me I was for her.

I detoured to the bar, taking a deep breath and shaking my head again to clear it as I ordered myself another glass of whiskey before I headed to my parents’ table to mingle.

I greeted aunts, uncles, and cousins. I danced with my grandma. I held babies and shook hands like a politician. And through it all, I couldn’t stop stealing glances across the room at Avery, wondering what she had hidden under the dress that fit her so well, wondering what sort of animal she would be beneath the sheets.

Between my family obligations and fate working against us, we didn’t get the chance to dance together again. I’d consumed enough whiskey to justify the cost of the open bar, but walking the room all night allowed the alcohol to filter through my system. I wasn’t drunk, but my inhibitions—however lacking they tended to be—were loosened, and I was horny and ready for a night of sex with the very beautiful and very perplexing Avery Peterson.

I hadn’t seen her in a while. She must’ve been busy with Quinn, but our eyes met over the gift table. We wordlessly helped carry gifts to a room where we’d meet the next day to watch the bride and groom open them. Once everyone had left and I’d said the obligatory goodbyes, Avery and I happened to meet just in front of the set of elevators. By some genius stroke of luck, it was just the two of us in that elevator. And speaking of strokes…

Her hands were on my cock the second the doors closed, and I thought it would be a good move to let her touch me wherever she wanted while my own hands gripped the elevator wall.

“Fucking hell,” she muttered upon grasping my erection in her palm.

I grinned down at her, hands still glued to the wall as if a magnet held them there. I’d been blessed with size, and not once in the sixteen years since I’d lost my virginity to Jessica Leonard my sophomore year of high school had a woman ever commented it was too small to fit their needs.

“I want you to touch me.” Her voice was soft and needy, and the desperation in it made me want to play her game. But a different part of me wanted to play my own game.

“I know you do,” I said. “And I will.”

She pouted adorably, and I chuckled. She folded her arms across her chest and moved to the opposite corner of the elevator.

Her arms across her chest pushed her tits up, and the view from my side of the elevator was fantastic.

“I’ll do more than touch you, Avery,” I said, my voice low and gravelly.

Her eyes heated in my direction.

“I never said you should stop touching me.”

“If you’re waiting, I’m waiting,” she said. She paused, and then she asked, “What else are you going to do besides touch?”

“I’m going to taste.”

“Taste what?”

“Those gorgeous tits spilling over the top of that dress.”

“What are you going to do to them?”

“I’m going to pull the top of your dress down until both of your tits pop out for me. Then I’m going to taste your nipples. Maybe bite them.”