Stepbrother Catfish: The Complete Series (22 page)

During the next couple of weeks, I did my best to avoid Charles. With the wedding fast approaching, it actually wasn’t difficult to do. There was always something needing to be done. When he entered, there was always an excuse to leave the room.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t avoid Charles during the actual wedding ceremony.

I was the maid of honor and Charles was the best man. We were paired together during and after the ceremony.

Arm in arm, we walked down the aisle. I was dressed in a shoulderless lavender dress with my hair piled on top of my head. Charles wore a simple black tuxedo. For once every hair on his head was in place, and he looked as immaculate as his father. He had really dressed for the occasion.

“You look beautiful,” he commented and my heart literally stopped for a moment.

I knew he was just being polite but inside I hoped he really meant it.

“Thank you,” I breathed out and complimented him back, “You look handsome.”

He looked more than handsome, he looked fine and sexy as hell. But I couldn’t’ say that.

He flashed me his dazzling grin, “Thank you.”

It was all I could do to keep moving forward and not melt into a puddle in the middle of the aisle.

My mom looked absolutely stunning in her designer wedding gown that cost more than most people earned in a decade. She was so happy. She positively glowed with her joy.

I wanted to be happy for her but a part of me, a teeny tiny piece I kept buried in the dark reaches of my heart, was resentful.

I resented that Charles and I were going to be officially connected by the marriage. In just an hour or so he would be officially off limits forever.

Throughout the ceremony, I couldn’t help but sneak little peeks at him. Until he caught me.

Every few seconds I’d turn my head just so and I could catch a glimpse of him out of the corners of my eyes.

The priest droned on and on about the sanctity of marriage and the importance or something of the vows.

My mom was staring into Edwards’ eyes, looking completely enraptured with him. Edward stared back like a man who couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

I turned my head to look at Charles, to steal another glance, only to find him already looking at me.

Our eyes met and something passed between us.

For a brief, crazy moment I could see my own want, my own confusion reflected upon his features and looking back at me.

Then he broke the connection first by frowning and looking away, leaving me even more confused than I had been before.

I didn’t dare sneak another peek at him after that.

After the “I dos” and the big kiss, it was time to party.

Charles and I were paired together again as we walked back down the aisle. We entered the reception arm in arm.  We took pictures posed with each other, with our parents, and with the rest of the bridal party.

Somehow I survived it all.

On my face was the best happy smile I could give while inside my emotions were distraught and turbulent.

I was so happy for my mom and Edward. They radiated love, everyone could see that they were a good match.

But selfishly I was mad. My traitorous body and heart were longing for someone I knew I couldn’t have.

I wanted to celebrate with them but what was going on inside of me prevented me from doing it.

It wasn’t my mom’s fault, I knew. She couldn’t help loving Edward as much as I couldn’t help what I was feeling.

Thankfully, I was spared from having to sit by Charles during the rest of the reception.

It was a blessing we weren’t seated together. After the last picture was snapped, I found my seat next to my mother while Charles was seated two seats away, next to his dad.

Finally, I could try to relax and enjoy myself. While the happy couple were busy talking to each other, I sneakily changed out my flute of sparkling cider for a flute of golden champagne.

By the time I finished off the flute, it was time for the first dance.

The lights dimmed, the conversation faded to dozens of hushed whispers, and the newlyweds were illuminated by a bright spotlight. A female singer started to croon about how her love had come along.

Edward led my mom to the dance floor and at that moment she was the most beautiful, the most elegant woman to ever exist.

As they came together, her hands on his shoulder, his hand on her hips, I felt tears of happiness stinging my eyes. Maybe it was the champagne but I was beyond happy for the two of them.

Watching them move to the slow love song, their bodies gliding in perfect harmony, it was if I was witnessing the living, breathing embodiment of true love. This was a fairy tale come true, and we were all lucky to be involved in their happily ever after.

The room erupted in thunderous applause when the song was over. Everyone else must have been just as moved as I was.

I found myself standing with the crowd, tearfully clapping my hands.

Then the next song started one of my favorites. A female singer started to sing about loving for a thousand years.

“May I have this dance?” Charles asked from behind me, startling me.

I was caught up in watching the happy couple, in the moment, I hadn’t sensed him approach.

I turned to find him holding out his hand.

Maybe it was because of the champagne bubbling inside me or maybe it was being happier than I had been in years, since my father had passed, but I didn’t hesitate a moment in taking his hand.

I felt a zap of something when I placed my hand in his. Touching him, even innocently, was proving to be an overwhelming experience.

How was he doing this to me, I thought. I shouldn’t find my knees ready to give out just from holding his hand.

He led me through the crowd. Maybe it was my paranoia or my fear that what I was feeling inside was showing on my face, but I felt like everyone’s eyes were upon us. Dozens of eyes were following us as we made our way to the dance floor to join our newlywed parents.

My mom caught my eye and she gave me a loving smile as we took our place beside them. Then she gave me an approving nod of her head. If only she knew what I was feeling!

Charles kept my hand in his, never relinquishing it, and then used it to pull me closer. I tried to take a step back, to place a bit more distance between us, but he stopped me by firmly placing his other hand on my hip.

Those judging eyes of the crowd were still upon me and I dared not make a scene and ruin my mother’s happy moment. So I went along with it.

I placed my hand at first lightly upon his broad shoulder, only to end up clutching at him for support as he spun us away.

“Why don’t you like me?” he asked while my vision was still spinning.

Oh! How could he think I didn’t like him?

It took every ounce of self-control I had to keep from showing him just how much I liked him, to keep my traitorous body in check.

“I like you,” I answered softly.

I like you too much, I said to myself.

He spun us again and I don’t know if it was because of the spinning or if it was because of the champagne, but I felt extremely lightheaded.

“You can’t even look at me.”

If only he knew what looking at him did to me.

It was true, being in his arms, floating around the dance floor, I couldn’t meet his eyes. If I gazed upon his face, I didn’t think I could hide how I truly felt.

It was easier to look at his chest.

Other couples began to join us on the dance floor. He led us through them with practiced ease and we became lost in the crowd.

“Look at me, Lauren,” he urged and I found myself wanting to give in.

The lights around me blurred, the other couples were just fuzzy bodies filling up the scenery, but when my eyes met his everything came into focus.

I lost the ability to breathe. There was such raw emotion in his eyes, such intense longing, a longing I felt in my own heart, I was overwhelmed by it.

I wanted to run. I wanted to flee. I had to get away from these feelings. I had to get away before I was completely ruined.

I looked away, searching for an escape, but his hands tightened their hold on me.

Did I continue to let him lead or did I made an awful scene, I tried to decide.

He didn’t give me a chance to do either.

He spun us out of the crowd, around a corner, and then there was a cold, hard wall against my back.

“Look at me, Lauren,” he urged again, his words firm but his voice as smooth as silk.

“No,” I refused him.

I couldn’t look at him, it was too much.

This was all a terrible mistake.

We stood there still posed as if we were supposed to be dancing but at an impasse.

Why was he doing this, I wondered.

I could hear him breathing loudly and I didn’t think it was due to the exertion of dancing.

“Please let me go,” I finally asked.

The song ended, there was another round of applause, and then a more upbeat tune began.

Any second now our disappearance could be noticed.

Any second now my will could fail me and I would reveal myself to him.

If I was going to admit my feelings to him, now would be the time. The flush of the dance was still on my cheeks and adrenaline was coursing through my veins.

It would be so easy to give in, to let myself revel in the sensation of him touching me. Just holding his hand caused the most exciting things to happen to my inexperienced body.

He was warm. I could bask in the heat of him. Just being in his space felt right, he sucked me in.

“Do you really want me to?” he asked and I felt him bend towards me.

No, I didn’t want him to let me go.

I wanted to remain in his arms forever. I wanted him to keep bending towards me. I wanted him to give me my first kiss.

“Yes,” I said and my own heart and soul were furious at me for lying.

“I don’t believe you,” he said with husky conviction.

I opened my mouth to tell him I didn’t care what he believed, but my words ended up smothered by his lips.

He kissed me. It was my very first kiss.

Just like that I went from determined to resist him to falling and giving in. It was everything perfect and everything wonderful I had expected.

He tasted of champagne, heat, and of something that was uniquely him. I loved the taste of him.

As his lips moved over mine, I knew I was lost. I was completely ruined.

My body thrummed with joy, my heart was tender with weakness. It was the most wonderful, most thrilling thing I had ever experienced, my first kiss. I knew it would be something I would never get to experience again.

He let go of my hand and I left mine lingering in the air before grabbing him.

I felt as if I was floating.

I could no longer tell up from down, left from right, and I had to hold on to him or risk drifting away.

His hand then went to my caress my cheek, and then he was holding me tightly while he tried to deepen the kiss.

His fingers started to dig painfully into my hip, he didn’t seem to realize it.

I felt the tip of his tongue urging my lips to open. It felt like the probing touch itself sent a current of electricity sizzling through my body, shocking me.

It was quiet as if nothing else in the world existed. There was no music, no wedding now, just him touching me.

I opened for him.

It was only a slight parting of my lips but it was enough and he immediately found his way in.

His tongue slipped into my mouth and I could have died right there from the pleasure of it.

I moaned a deep sound in my throat as his tongue stroked against mine, teaching me the rhythm of his kiss.

The DJ’s voice boomed through the speakers, “Would the best man please come to the stage.”

It was time for our speeches.

Suddenly reality sucked me back in and I was grounded.

I could feel my feet on the floor, the hard wall against my back, and my fingers clutching at his jacket.

He didn’t seem to care about the request and pressed into me.

His hard length pushed me into the wall and I could feel his every groove, his every ridge. His hardness.

It felt so right to be in his arms, locked in a kiss that kept getting deeper and deeper.

Out tongues moved in harmony as we tasted and savored each other.

“Mr. Charles Blackman, your presence is requested at the stage.”

I remembered thinking that at any second, someone would find us. They would see us embracing and passionately kissing. If we were caught, it would ruin our parent’s perfect wedding.

It would destroy all of us.