was different. We’d been together, united, the closest two people can be, but today we wanted more.
With the gentle breeze blowing across the water, we'd moved tentatively, tenderly exploring one another and taking in what we've missed in our five-month-long nonexistent courtship. Using all of our senses, we kissed and licked, teased and satisfied. Nothing was out of bounds as we touched and sought more. The only thing we didn't do was have actual sex.
Though the lack of condoms was our excuse, the reality seemed deeper.
There is something sensual in learning about one another, whether discovering that I'm insanely ticklish on my stomach or that Duncan's warm breath behind my ears causes my entire body to erupt in goose bumps.
I also learned a few important facts about him, ones that don’t appear in Buchanan and Willis’s dossier.
Duncan Willis is also ticklish, but his secret spot is the soft skin behind his knees. And when he's erect, his impressive penis points upward. On his left arm, he has a small scar from a dog bite from when he was young. Lastly, in the sunlight the gold flecks in his eyes become more prominent.
Together we lay in the sunshine and watched wisps of clouds float overhead. We playfully argued about the pictures they created. Where I saw a dog, he saw a horse. I suppose it's true what they say: size matters.
We may have even napped until a deer rustled the grass nearby.
If last night in my bedroom had been the most erotic experience of my life, the way we spent the morning was the most sensual. Our bouquet is growing. The flowers are multiplying at unknown rates. Each one is different—unique. The boundary between reality and make-believe is blurring. Soon, the vase with our flowers will overflow and shatter.
Once again back on the path to the house, Duncan pulls my hand and stops. "Before we get back to your family, I want to tell you something."
I take a deep breath, ready for whatever he's about to say. Maybe this is all too weird. Maybe he wants to go back to New York today. Hell, he has a plane. He could do that. Maybe he wants to come clean to my family and tell them that this is all pretend.
I lift my gaze to his, expecting the worse. "What do you want to tell me?"
"I know the weekend has only started..."
I hold my breath, refusing to cry.
"...but it's—"
I can't take the suspense. "If you need to leave, I understand."
His eyes spring wide. "What? Leave? No." He lets go of my hand and reaches for my shoulders. "Is that what you want?"
"No, but this is all so different than what you're used to. You can admit that."
Duncan nods. "It is. And I'm having the time of my life."
"You are?"
"I am. And I wanted to tell you—"
"Kimberly Ann, Kimberly!" My mother's voice calls from the porch.
Duncan kisses my forehead. "I'm having a great time. Stop worrying."
I nod against his soft t-shirt, recalling every line and ripple of his toned chest beneath the fabric.
Mom's arm is waving as she repeats my name. "Your cousin has called a hundred times. Where have you two been? What am I supposed..."
I look up and grin. "Well, I hope you enjoyed the quiet, because I bet it's the last we'll have it for a while."
Duncan laces our fingers back the way they'd been. "Bring it on, Kimberly Ann."
“Bride to Be” is printed in sparkling font on Scarlett’s bright white sash. Although she’s already had numerous bridal showers and even a bachelorette party, Sheila, Scarlett’s older sister, decided we all needed girl-time tonight. She also decided that the best place to do that would be down the street from where the guys are holding Kurt's bachelor party.
We’re in downtown Indianapolis at an incredibly popular hangout. The place is packed and the music is blaring. By the way Shelia is downing her drinks, I would venture to guess that there’s more to tonight than meets the eye. More than likely, Sheila is as interested in keeping an eye on her husband as she is in partying with her sister and cousins.
Truthfully, I don’t want to be here, surrounded by thousands and thousands of race fans. I also don’t want to go down the street and check on Jimmy, Sheila’s husband. I don't want to find out if he's watching the dancers and not touching.
The real reason I don't want to be here is that I don't want to know what Duncan