My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon - Lauren Landish Page 0,2
naughty things. I’d be willing to check that off my bucket list too if Lorenzo’s got a Prince Albert hiding behind those tailor-fit slacks.
I step a little closer with the next sway, trying to see if I can tell through the fabric. And though I feel something, I don’t think it’s a piercing. It’s too big, too long, and too rigid against my belly to be a tiny barbell.
“Abigail,” he growls, liquid velvet over grit. A warning? A plea? I’m not sure, but I feel the syllables along my skin and want him to say my name again, though it’s the first word either of us has said since we began dancing. Words haven’t been needed. He’s that good at this.
And why does his saying my full name sound so sexy? Usually, the only time I hear that is when I’m in trouble. Oh, that’s probably why. I am in trouble. The good kind.
His eyes burn like fire, and his hand is firm on my back as he pulls and guides me where he wants me. Our breaths pace with each other, as do our racing hearts. All from a dance on a crowded floor.
A stray thought tries to take shape in my mind, a worry that maybe a bad boy type isn’t what I need, but I squash it down. This is exactly what I need. A night of freedom—from expectations, from responsibilities, from my last name, from questions about when I’m going to finally get married myself. As if that’s all I’m good for despite creating a successful business of my own from scratch.
I’ll pick up all those weights and carry them on my shoulders again tomorrow morning. But tonight, I want to pretend I can be someone else, anyone else, and give in to this electric chemistry with a guy I’ve never met before and probably won’t see ever again. Judge me if you want, but I need this so I can keep going at my frenetic pace. A step off the straight and narrow path, a momentary walk on the wild side I used to visit regularly, and a tiny bit of crazy so that I can stay sane with everything else going on.
“Yes?” It’s more air than sound, and I swear he leans in as though he wants to feel my breath along his cheek.
“Would you like to go—"
Before he can finish whatever he’s trying to say, strong fingers grip my arm. “Abi, there you are. It’s time for the toasts and you’re second in line after the best man.”
Erica, Courtney’s wedding planner, doesn’t give me a chance to say no or even to pause, simply hauling me toward the front of the room with surprising strength. Erica has been an amazing help planning the wedding of Courtney’s very specific dreams, but right now, I could kill her without a single blip of remorse for cockblocking me.
I look over my shoulder to see Lorenzo’s gaze trailing me. His eyes are heated, his look hungry.
Tink, tink, tink.
The sound of a spoon tapping on a glass quiets the room, even the DJ lowering the now classical music to something soft, keeping it as mere background noise.
Ross, my brother, stands at the front of the room looking comfortable as can be as every eye turns to him. “I’ve got a few things I’d like to say about the man marrying my sister and a few more about the woman marrying my best friend.”
A small titter of polite laughter works its way through the crowd. And Ross does what he does best—play to his audience. His jokes are funny without being too revealing, his words are sweet and sentimental, and his advice is seemingly on point for someone who’s only been married a short time himself.
As I take my place at the microphone, a hot flash of nerves spikes, washing away my previous desire in an instant. But I speak from the heart, wishing my sister a lifetime of happiness and threatening her new husband with death and dismemberment if he so much as says one mean word to her. He smiles like I’m kidding, and I slash a line across my throat with my thumb to show that I’m dead serious. Not that Kaede McWarren needs the warning. He’s been in love with Courtney forever at this point.
I’m happy they finally found their way to each other—with a little help and a push from yours truly. I love love and want everyone to find their special someone. And