My (Mostly) Fake Wedding - Penelope Bloom Page 0,35

bodies colliding.

Chris skillfully flipped me over and pulled himself out just as his pace had reached a peak. He took himself in his hand and positioned himself over me. When he came, he did it on my stomach.

Neither of us moved at first, chests heaving. Eventually, Chris leaned down and planted a tender kiss on my mouth. It wasn’t like the kisses before. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that you took when you weren’t sure when the next would come. It was the type of kiss you gave to someone when you knew they’d be there tomorrow.

He was smiling down at me. “I was worried I built that up to be better than I remembered.”

“Did you?”

“No. I’d forgotten how amazing it is.”

I grinned. “You’re only saying that so I’ll let you do it again.”

“Is that option on the table?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe.” I shook my head, closing my eyes. “No. It’s not smart for us to get involved like this. Again.”

“The majority of fun things in life aren’t smart. That’s what makes them fun.”

“We should get cleaned up.”

“We’re in the shower. Is there something wrong with your water I should know about?”

I gave him a look, then got up and ran soap over myself, especially my stomach where he’d came all over me. “What is it with guys and wanting to shoot their jizz on women, anyway?”

Chris came from behind me, wrapping his arms around my chest and kissing my neck. I tried to will myself to slip out of his grasp, because it wasn’t the sort of thing you did after a meaningless hook up. It was too tender. Again.

Except all I did was stand there, enjoying the slick sensation of our wet bodies pressed together and his still hard length pinned against my lower back.

“Why?” he asked in my ear. “You want me to come inside you next time? Or do a one-eighty and shoot it at the wall? Maybe aim it straight up and we can play some full-ball roulette to see who catches it on the way down?”

“You’re ridiculous. And no. I just wondered what it is that makes guys want to do it so badly.”

“Are you telling me there’s a long list of guys who have finished on you before?”

I smirked. Was that jealousy I detected? “No. Would you just answer the question?”

Chris kissed my earlobe, then gave it a playful little nip with his teeth. “I was marking you. That way you’ll remember who you belong to for the next few months.”

I wanted to correct him. I should have corrected him. Except all I did was stand there and smile like the idiot I was.

20

Chris

For some reason, Belle insisted that I bring someone else with me when we went to pick out tuxes for the wedding. For some other reason, Belle also didn’t accept my answer that I already had several perfectly good tuxes. Apparently, it was important that my tux actually matched her dress.

So I brought Damon’s wife, Chelsea, and Luna. I guess I should’ve started thinking of Chelsea as my “sister-in-law,” but that was weird. It still felt like a few weeks ago when I was sure my stick-up-his-ass of a brother would be forever alone.

Chelsea and Luna were both dressed in tennis gear, and Chelsea had apparently taken it upon herself to bring her friend, Milly as well.

I met them all inside the shop before Belle arrived.

Luna hugged my leg, and we did our usual routine where I got on my knees and started play punching her in slow motion. She blocked like I’d showed her, then surprised me with a vicious uppercut that I sold like a professional wrestler.

I was on the ground cupping my chin in mock agony when Belle walked into the store. She paused, looked down at me, then turned her focus to Chelsea. “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” Chelsea said. The women all made introductions while I got off the ground and dusted myself off.

Luna was staring up at Belle with her hands on her hips. “If you and Uncle Chris get married, will you be my mom?”

Chelsea had that age-old look of a mother who didn’t have enough left in the tank to tackle the hundredth strange question of the day. I decided to jump in and save her the trouble.

“When Belle and I get married, she’s going to be your aunt. That’s if I let her out of bed long enough to do the job, I mean.”

Milly and Chelsea both