Exposing The Groom, page 8
Dustin’s eyes widen. “The email? The request from the bride for a special song just for her?”
“NO!” Scarlett jolts up. “She doesn’t get to have you sing to just her! That was my thing!”
She stumbles to her feet. “You…” She snaps her fingers at Dustin. “…grab me coffee, I’m going into the shower, I’m sobering up, I’m washing my hair and if anyone gets sung to, it’s me!”
She promptly turns and walks right into a wall.
“Oooh.” Dustin makes a cringy face. “That sounded like cartilage.”
Scarlett turns toward us. “I’m fine!”
Blood starts streaming from her nose.
What did I do to deserve this?
I walk over and pinch the bridge of her nose and tilt her forward and walk her into the bathroom, forcing her to sit on the toilet lid. “Stay.”
Tears fill her eyes.
“And if you cry, I’m not helping you,” I add. I’m weak for tears. I used to think they were pathetic, but with her? They make her prettier, and somehow, through the puking, she still has pink lipstick on. And it still makes me think of our kiss and how I wanted more despite how much I want to strangle her for what she said.
If word gets out.
It won’t.
It can’t.
That’s what Dustin’s for.
I mean, this is a secluded private event, there are no paparazzi, and we said no pictures, the contract was extremely specific to avoid calamity.
Enter Scarlett.
She’s a walking disaster.
Is it because of her ex or is it because of me?
I don’t know. But I will ask because this is getting borderline ridiculous on both our parts. I can’t seem to be fighting the girl that let me go. Neither of us want to take the blame from eighth grade, so now I’m the one taking the blame for her supposed wedding night when I walked out.
I did the right thing. Right?
“I feel like shit.” Scarlett sits on the toilet and hangs her head in her hands, her hair’s covering her face, but I know how pretty she still looks. “And I know I’m being ridiculous but…” She takes a deep breath. “It just sucks, all of this sucks. I’m petty if I don’t come to the wedding, right? I’m petty for not forgiving her or him, but—” She sniffles. “Did it have to be my sister? Did it have to be in our bed? Did it have…” She stops herself. “I need to shower and get ready.”
She looks anything but ready.
And I’m truly afraid she’s going to pass out in the shower or decide that a power nap under the hot water is the best idea she’s ever had.
“Well…” I lean down and grab her hand. She jerks back at first, but I hold it firm. “The only choice you have is to march in there and pretend like none of it matters, get blindly drunk when you get home, and just power through the weekend. But first you need to clean up.”
She looks over at the shower and sighs. “My Everest.”
Even looking like a hot mess and she’s still shockingly pretty. I release her hand, walk over to the shower, and start it. “You’re not one of those girls, right?”
“Huh?” She frowns. “Use your words, I’m still half drunk.”
“You know.” I test the water. “The kind that freaks out over nakedness and can’t handle a dick like an adult.”
“I’ll have you know, sir! I can handle dick like a professional!”
I burst out laughing.
She rolls her eyes. “Not like a prostitute professional or porn star but like a normal healthy woman in her thirties who can handle dick, big, small, chubby, short, pencil shaped—whatever.”
“Ah good, no prejudices. I like it.” I cover my mouth with my hand to keep from laughing harder. “Then, we’re both getting into the shower, you’ll be happy to know you don’t have to handle my dick, but I am going to help you wash your hair and get you ready.”
Her eyes widen. “Naked?”
“Do you shower with clothes? Is that a thing?” I pull my shirt over my head and drop it to the floor. “Rules. No unnecessary touching, no pictures, and no thinking I’m hitting on you. This is specifically platonic because if you show up looking like you just got run over by a truck it reflects badly on your fiancé.”
She rolls her eyes. “I was about to say I don’t look that bad, but then I realized that would mean looking in the mirror and I don’t want to scare myself. So, shower it is, just keep your parts to your parts.”
“I can one hundred percent confirm all my parts will stay on one side of the shower.” I reach for her tennis shoes and tug them off, followed by her socks, I tell myself that they’re just shoes that her skin is just skin. I completely ignore how smooth it feels beneath my hands when I tug down her jeans.
She lets out a little moan. “I might puke.”
“At least wait until we’re in the shower, Can you even stand?”
She gets up on wobbly feet. Her hips nearly smack me in the face. I stand and peel her shirt over her head.
She’s not wearing a bra.
I ignore her perky breasts and make eye contact while tugging her black boy short underwear down to the floor. She’s still leaning pretty heavily against me while I kick off my shoes and jeans.
Her eyes roam my body freely. Green eyes wide, she tilts her head. “You don’t happen to have like peck implants, do you?”
I struggle not to laugh as she sways toward me then pokes me in the chest with her pink fingernail.
I swat her hand away. “No, my boobs are real, thanks for noticing.”
She lets out another moan. “I hope this sobers me up.”
“Says the girl who downed half a fifth of expensive whiskey. You owe me by the way.”
She scrunches up her nose and walks toward the shower; actually, she takes one step then falls back against me.
Her naked skin slaps against mine. I wrap my arms around her body and brace her tight. “Baby steps, let’s get you into the shower. Think you can manage to lean against the wall?”
“Maybe.” She yawns. “Yeah, I think so.”
We walk into the rain shower and immediately it feels like heaven, I’m not even drunk and it’s relaxing.
Scarlett moans. “This is better than sex.”
“You’ve clearly been having sex with the priest.”
“Ha-ha, very funny, and that was only like three times when we dated. He always felt too guilty.”
I snort at that. “For sleeping with you?”
Idiot.
“No.” She yawns. “For lasting too long. He was one of those marathoners that just keeps going and going and going—”
“I think I get the picture.”
She reaches for the body wash and starts rubbing it down her body. “He used to do this one thing with his teeth where he’d graze a nipple and suck, then he’d grab a piece of cold ice.” Her nipples get hard.
I grit my teeth and try to think about things that aren’t sexy and that aren’t nipples, like prison, murder, blood, clowns, Jenga.
Oh shit, the Jenga one was a bad call, because now I’m thinking about things going in slots.
I’d fuck her so hard against those blocks. The tower would just collapse all over the place while I toss her against the game table and—
Scarlett taps me on the shoulder. “Your mouth’s open and you just started panting. Is it too hot in here?”
It’s hot everywhere.
I’m hot everywhere.
Self-control.
I grit my teeth. “Yeah, let’s just hurry up, and no more talking about the priest, all right?”
“Aw, does it get you off?” She winks, cheeky brat. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been with a guy who was curious about Adrian.”
I roll my eyes. “No, the priest doesn’t turn me on.”
She nods. “Then what’s that?”
My dick is standing at attention in the salute to end all salutes.
I grab the body wash and start furiously rubbing it all over my body then quickly rub it down her legs while she protests that I’m going too hard.
If I hear that word one more time…
I pull her under the water and run my hands up and down her slippery body and try to blank every space in my head. The shampoo smells like coconuts and a sweet flowery perfume. I rub it in her hair and start to move my hands.
“Oh, God.” Her eyes close as my hands get more aggressive. Her lips part.
I can’t breathe. I’ve never washed a woman’s hair, nor have I ever been so tortured in my entire life. Am I really that horny?
I quickly jerk her back under the water, blindingly add conditioner, rinse that out, then grab a towel and wrap her in it, furiously drying her off. I need to get the hell out of that bathroom.
“Whoa, kind of rough,” she teases with a giggle. “I can’t decide if I like it or hate it.”
“Maybe a bit of both?” I say through gritted teeth, grabbing my own towel and wrapping it around my waist. I waste no time picking her up and walking her into the primary bedroom. I gently lay her on the white duvet and flip it over so she’s covered. “I’ll wake you up in an hour to get ready, all right?”
She yawns. “’Kay. What are you going to go do?”
“Finish drying off.” I lie. “Sleep, and no more whiskey.”
“Yes, sir.” She salutes me. I take a few steps and she’s already out on the bed with a smile on her face.
I exhale for the first time in the last ten minutes and jump back into the shower. I still need to wash my own hair, but my hands don’t reach for the shampoo or conditioner.
They reach for the soap.
“Puppies, kittens, old grandmas—” I repeat over and over again. “Scarlett,” I slip up and grip my length, fuck, I’m so hard I can barely see straight. I grip myself tighter and tighter.
Nipples.
Soap.
Moans.
Shit.
I pump myself so hard it almost hurts. I rest a hand against the shower wall. I’m so screwed as I spurt all over the shower wall.
A knock sounds on the door. “You good, man?”
I stare at the wall, Dustin has to have heard that I went back in the bathroom. “Y-yeah, just… cleaning up.”
“Cool, holler if you need anything.”
“Yup.”
I rest my forehead against the tile and bang it twice. “It’s only a few days,” I remind myself. “A few days, and I get women throwing themselves at me all the time. I can do anything for a few days.”
Even if that means sleeping next to temptation herself.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Scarlett
It would have been the best nap of my life had I not had to suddenly use the bathroom. I could hear Killian back in the shower and figured I could probably sneak in or just beg him to look away.
How does a person go from failed wedding, to making out with a rockstar, dressing her turtle, puking in the rockstar’s arms, announcing a fake engagement, and now peeing in front of him?
The world is a mysterious place.
Once Adrian gets here, things will be much better, he’ll replace my drinks with water, he’ll remind me not to lose my mind, and he’s like zero temptation since he’s off limits.
Whereas Killian…
Where do people get pecs like that anyway? You could bounce a quarter off them. I wonder if he could bench me.
No. No. Bad thoughts.
He has no interest in a relationship, abandoned me in my time of need, and on top of that, we apparently have middle school history.
We were doomed the minute I got those damn braces off, weren’t we?
I slowly sneak toward the bathroom and crack open the door. The steam is billowing around his perfect ass.
I open my mouth to call out his name when I notice his jerky movements. Frowning, I peek my head farther in and gape.
Is he jacking off?
“Hey, man, you good?” Dustin calls from the other door.
I turn right into the wall, slamming the top of my left cheek against the wood before closing the door and sprinting back into bed.
Heart pounding, orbital bone breaking, I lay there for what feels like ten minutes before the bathroom door opens and Killian comes out.
I pretend to be sleeping.
Killian walks to the bed and stands over me. If I hadn’t just seen him jacking off in the shower, I might be afraid he’s going to reach for a pillow and shove it over my face.
Instead, I’m left wondering if the shower affected him as much as it did me. I mean why else go back in there?
I can feel my body flushing from head to toe. I imagine my cheeks have a very naturally pink hue to them.
He was probably thinking about someone else. And it’s perfectly normal for grown ass men to feel horny if they see boob, it could literally be the third tit of his aunt and he’d probably be horny.
Bad example.
Point is, boob is boob, and when tiny dick brain sees boob, they immediately want to touch, and then a light wind picks up through the house, and bam.
Boner city.
Ha! Yeah, that’s it.
That’s what happened.
There was a distant breeze brought on by the front door being open, it slithered under the bathroom door and announced itself to his dick and his dick’s only obvious answer was to say hi.
Because that’s what… dicks. Do.
I hear a rustling around the room and open up one eye.
“Agh!” Killian stumbles back. “Were you even sleeping?”
“Yes,” I lie. “What are you doing? Why are you naked?”
“I have pants on, and I almost fell.” His eyes narrow at me like he thinks I’m seriously unhinged, then he turns around and bends over to grab something out of his suitcase.
He’s wearing a pair of ripped black jeans that hug his ass like he just got back from leg day and got too swollen. I gulp when he pulls a white V-neck cotton shirt over his ripped, tatted up body and follows it up with a leather jacket.
Of course he does.
And of course it’s electric blue and somehow still looks devastating on him. His hair isn’t even done, and I almost want to ask him to just keep that messy wet look, but that would mean speaking and I’m finding it hard to breathe at the moment.
Again, he wasn’t thinking of me.
He was probably thinking of some supermodel or something.
He walks over to one of the tables and switches out one of his earrings in his right ear for a small dangly cross, then grabs a few rings from a box that must have magically appeared when we were showering. He follows that up with a matching cross necklace and grabs a pair of expensive looking sunglasses, I think they’re Celine, but I can’t tell and don’t want to look creepy.
“So.” He finally turns around. “You have around forty-five minutes to get ready. I’ll go grab the coffee from Dustin, and you can get ready. Let me know if you need help picking out the dress that’s supposed to murder the bride.”
“Very funny.” I crawl out of bed, forgetting I have the towel wrapped around me but not tied.
It falls past my knees. “Shit!”
“WHY!” he shouts and turns around in a circle. “Stop showing me your tits!”
“It’s not on purpose!” I yell.
He looks back at me, his expression blank, and then a frown forms across his face. “What happened to your cheek?”
I touch the now swelling piece of flesh. “I uh, fell.”
“You fell,” he deadpans. “From what great distance did you fall while I was showering?”
“Bed,” I gulp. “I mean I had a dream you killed Chuck Norris—”
“The man or the turtle?”
“The man, and then I tried to punch the air and fell out of bed and hit my face on the side table.”
“Wow, all within the span of like fifteen minutes and you were still able to get back to sleep? Impressive.”
I laugh uncomfortably. “That’s me, impressive. Besides it doesn’t look that bad, does it?”
I keep my towel tightly bound around myself and walk over to the mirror in the corner. “Oh shit.”
He comes up behind me. “You could always say you got in a fight trying to save a little girl from getting trafficked.”
I glare at him through the mirror. “A little dark for a wedding. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be working on the special song for tonight?”
“I’m going to improvise.” He crosses his arms. “You know, make shit up. Besides, we both know the only reason I’m here is to piss you off.”
“The only reason you exist is to piss me off.” I smile sweetly at him.
He leans down and rests his chin on my shoulder. I hate that I like the movement. What kind of cologne is he wearing? Or is that just hot rockstar musk with a side of tattoo? Asking for a friend.
Killian’s chin is slightly rough against my skin; his five o’clock shadow should be illegal, he’s clearly weaponizing it and knows it. “Why do I piss you off? Really, I want to know.”
“Because.” I lick my lips. “You’re arrogant.”
“You met me for a few hours and that’s what you come up with? I’m arrogant?”
I’m annoyed with my own attitude. “It’s not just—it’s not just that. It’s just… You know what? Never mind. I know we don’t get along, and I annoy you, and that you’re used to people just collapsing at your feet. Let’s just get through the weekend and everything will be great!”
“Yeah, let’s just hope my manager doesn’t catch wind that I’m suddenly engaged to the girl that I was told in no uncertain terms to drop before my career tanks even further.”
I freeze. “What?”
He shrugs. “You got the NDA, right?”
“Yes, the next day. Thanks for that. Basically, you’ll sue the shit out of me if I talk about you or share pictures of our moments together, super romantic. I literally got served papers, by a complete stranger, you know how humiliating it is to sign something that says no contact?”
“It says that?” he asks and scratches the back of his head making his shirt rise up and giving me a perfect view of his low abs. “I just thought it was a simple, don’t talk about Fight Club sort of thing.”
“Uh, no, not simple, and I would never talk about you anyway like that, but whatever.”
“NO!” Scarlett jolts up. “She doesn’t get to have you sing to just her! That was my thing!”
She stumbles to her feet. “You…” She snaps her fingers at Dustin. “…grab me coffee, I’m going into the shower, I’m sobering up, I’m washing my hair and if anyone gets sung to, it’s me!”
She promptly turns and walks right into a wall.
“Oooh.” Dustin makes a cringy face. “That sounded like cartilage.”
Scarlett turns toward us. “I’m fine!”
Blood starts streaming from her nose.
What did I do to deserve this?
I walk over and pinch the bridge of her nose and tilt her forward and walk her into the bathroom, forcing her to sit on the toilet lid. “Stay.”
Tears fill her eyes.
“And if you cry, I’m not helping you,” I add. I’m weak for tears. I used to think they were pathetic, but with her? They make her prettier, and somehow, through the puking, she still has pink lipstick on. And it still makes me think of our kiss and how I wanted more despite how much I want to strangle her for what she said.
If word gets out.
It won’t.
It can’t.
That’s what Dustin’s for.
I mean, this is a secluded private event, there are no paparazzi, and we said no pictures, the contract was extremely specific to avoid calamity.
Enter Scarlett.
She’s a walking disaster.
Is it because of her ex or is it because of me?
I don’t know. But I will ask because this is getting borderline ridiculous on both our parts. I can’t seem to be fighting the girl that let me go. Neither of us want to take the blame from eighth grade, so now I’m the one taking the blame for her supposed wedding night when I walked out.
I did the right thing. Right?
“I feel like shit.” Scarlett sits on the toilet and hangs her head in her hands, her hair’s covering her face, but I know how pretty she still looks. “And I know I’m being ridiculous but…” She takes a deep breath. “It just sucks, all of this sucks. I’m petty if I don’t come to the wedding, right? I’m petty for not forgiving her or him, but—” She sniffles. “Did it have to be my sister? Did it have to be in our bed? Did it have…” She stops herself. “I need to shower and get ready.”
She looks anything but ready.
And I’m truly afraid she’s going to pass out in the shower or decide that a power nap under the hot water is the best idea she’s ever had.
“Well…” I lean down and grab her hand. She jerks back at first, but I hold it firm. “The only choice you have is to march in there and pretend like none of it matters, get blindly drunk when you get home, and just power through the weekend. But first you need to clean up.”
She looks over at the shower and sighs. “My Everest.”
Even looking like a hot mess and she’s still shockingly pretty. I release her hand, walk over to the shower, and start it. “You’re not one of those girls, right?”
“Huh?” She frowns. “Use your words, I’m still half drunk.”
“You know.” I test the water. “The kind that freaks out over nakedness and can’t handle a dick like an adult.”
“I’ll have you know, sir! I can handle dick like a professional!”
I burst out laughing.
She rolls her eyes. “Not like a prostitute professional or porn star but like a normal healthy woman in her thirties who can handle dick, big, small, chubby, short, pencil shaped—whatever.”
“Ah good, no prejudices. I like it.” I cover my mouth with my hand to keep from laughing harder. “Then, we’re both getting into the shower, you’ll be happy to know you don’t have to handle my dick, but I am going to help you wash your hair and get you ready.”
Her eyes widen. “Naked?”
“Do you shower with clothes? Is that a thing?” I pull my shirt over my head and drop it to the floor. “Rules. No unnecessary touching, no pictures, and no thinking I’m hitting on you. This is specifically platonic because if you show up looking like you just got run over by a truck it reflects badly on your fiancé.”
She rolls her eyes. “I was about to say I don’t look that bad, but then I realized that would mean looking in the mirror and I don’t want to scare myself. So, shower it is, just keep your parts to your parts.”
“I can one hundred percent confirm all my parts will stay on one side of the shower.” I reach for her tennis shoes and tug them off, followed by her socks, I tell myself that they’re just shoes that her skin is just skin. I completely ignore how smooth it feels beneath my hands when I tug down her jeans.
She lets out a little moan. “I might puke.”
“At least wait until we’re in the shower, Can you even stand?”
She gets up on wobbly feet. Her hips nearly smack me in the face. I stand and peel her shirt over her head.
She’s not wearing a bra.
I ignore her perky breasts and make eye contact while tugging her black boy short underwear down to the floor. She’s still leaning pretty heavily against me while I kick off my shoes and jeans.
Her eyes roam my body freely. Green eyes wide, she tilts her head. “You don’t happen to have like peck implants, do you?”
I struggle not to laugh as she sways toward me then pokes me in the chest with her pink fingernail.
I swat her hand away. “No, my boobs are real, thanks for noticing.”
She lets out another moan. “I hope this sobers me up.”
“Says the girl who downed half a fifth of expensive whiskey. You owe me by the way.”
She scrunches up her nose and walks toward the shower; actually, she takes one step then falls back against me.
Her naked skin slaps against mine. I wrap my arms around her body and brace her tight. “Baby steps, let’s get you into the shower. Think you can manage to lean against the wall?”
“Maybe.” She yawns. “Yeah, I think so.”
We walk into the rain shower and immediately it feels like heaven, I’m not even drunk and it’s relaxing.
Scarlett moans. “This is better than sex.”
“You’ve clearly been having sex with the priest.”
“Ha-ha, very funny, and that was only like three times when we dated. He always felt too guilty.”
I snort at that. “For sleeping with you?”
Idiot.
“No.” She yawns. “For lasting too long. He was one of those marathoners that just keeps going and going and going—”
“I think I get the picture.”
She reaches for the body wash and starts rubbing it down her body. “He used to do this one thing with his teeth where he’d graze a nipple and suck, then he’d grab a piece of cold ice.” Her nipples get hard.
I grit my teeth and try to think about things that aren’t sexy and that aren’t nipples, like prison, murder, blood, clowns, Jenga.
Oh shit, the Jenga one was a bad call, because now I’m thinking about things going in slots.
I’d fuck her so hard against those blocks. The tower would just collapse all over the place while I toss her against the game table and—
Scarlett taps me on the shoulder. “Your mouth’s open and you just started panting. Is it too hot in here?”
It’s hot everywhere.
I’m hot everywhere.
Self-control.
I grit my teeth. “Yeah, let’s just hurry up, and no more talking about the priest, all right?”
“Aw, does it get you off?” She winks, cheeky brat. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been with a guy who was curious about Adrian.”
I roll my eyes. “No, the priest doesn’t turn me on.”
She nods. “Then what’s that?”
My dick is standing at attention in the salute to end all salutes.
I grab the body wash and start furiously rubbing it all over my body then quickly rub it down her legs while she protests that I’m going too hard.
If I hear that word one more time…
I pull her under the water and run my hands up and down her slippery body and try to blank every space in my head. The shampoo smells like coconuts and a sweet flowery perfume. I rub it in her hair and start to move my hands.
“Oh, God.” Her eyes close as my hands get more aggressive. Her lips part.
I can’t breathe. I’ve never washed a woman’s hair, nor have I ever been so tortured in my entire life. Am I really that horny?
I quickly jerk her back under the water, blindingly add conditioner, rinse that out, then grab a towel and wrap her in it, furiously drying her off. I need to get the hell out of that bathroom.
“Whoa, kind of rough,” she teases with a giggle. “I can’t decide if I like it or hate it.”
“Maybe a bit of both?” I say through gritted teeth, grabbing my own towel and wrapping it around my waist. I waste no time picking her up and walking her into the primary bedroom. I gently lay her on the white duvet and flip it over so she’s covered. “I’ll wake you up in an hour to get ready, all right?”
She yawns. “’Kay. What are you going to go do?”
“Finish drying off.” I lie. “Sleep, and no more whiskey.”
“Yes, sir.” She salutes me. I take a few steps and she’s already out on the bed with a smile on her face.
I exhale for the first time in the last ten minutes and jump back into the shower. I still need to wash my own hair, but my hands don’t reach for the shampoo or conditioner.
They reach for the soap.
“Puppies, kittens, old grandmas—” I repeat over and over again. “Scarlett,” I slip up and grip my length, fuck, I’m so hard I can barely see straight. I grip myself tighter and tighter.
Nipples.
Soap.
Moans.
Shit.
I pump myself so hard it almost hurts. I rest a hand against the shower wall. I’m so screwed as I spurt all over the shower wall.
A knock sounds on the door. “You good, man?”
I stare at the wall, Dustin has to have heard that I went back in the bathroom. “Y-yeah, just… cleaning up.”
“Cool, holler if you need anything.”
“Yup.”
I rest my forehead against the tile and bang it twice. “It’s only a few days,” I remind myself. “A few days, and I get women throwing themselves at me all the time. I can do anything for a few days.”
Even if that means sleeping next to temptation herself.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Scarlett
It would have been the best nap of my life had I not had to suddenly use the bathroom. I could hear Killian back in the shower and figured I could probably sneak in or just beg him to look away.
How does a person go from failed wedding, to making out with a rockstar, dressing her turtle, puking in the rockstar’s arms, announcing a fake engagement, and now peeing in front of him?
The world is a mysterious place.
Once Adrian gets here, things will be much better, he’ll replace my drinks with water, he’ll remind me not to lose my mind, and he’s like zero temptation since he’s off limits.
Whereas Killian…
Where do people get pecs like that anyway? You could bounce a quarter off them. I wonder if he could bench me.
No. No. Bad thoughts.
He has no interest in a relationship, abandoned me in my time of need, and on top of that, we apparently have middle school history.
We were doomed the minute I got those damn braces off, weren’t we?
I slowly sneak toward the bathroom and crack open the door. The steam is billowing around his perfect ass.
I open my mouth to call out his name when I notice his jerky movements. Frowning, I peek my head farther in and gape.
Is he jacking off?
“Hey, man, you good?” Dustin calls from the other door.
I turn right into the wall, slamming the top of my left cheek against the wood before closing the door and sprinting back into bed.
Heart pounding, orbital bone breaking, I lay there for what feels like ten minutes before the bathroom door opens and Killian comes out.
I pretend to be sleeping.
Killian walks to the bed and stands over me. If I hadn’t just seen him jacking off in the shower, I might be afraid he’s going to reach for a pillow and shove it over my face.
Instead, I’m left wondering if the shower affected him as much as it did me. I mean why else go back in there?
I can feel my body flushing from head to toe. I imagine my cheeks have a very naturally pink hue to them.
He was probably thinking about someone else. And it’s perfectly normal for grown ass men to feel horny if they see boob, it could literally be the third tit of his aunt and he’d probably be horny.
Bad example.
Point is, boob is boob, and when tiny dick brain sees boob, they immediately want to touch, and then a light wind picks up through the house, and bam.
Boner city.
Ha! Yeah, that’s it.
That’s what happened.
There was a distant breeze brought on by the front door being open, it slithered under the bathroom door and announced itself to his dick and his dick’s only obvious answer was to say hi.
Because that’s what… dicks. Do.
I hear a rustling around the room and open up one eye.
“Agh!” Killian stumbles back. “Were you even sleeping?”
“Yes,” I lie. “What are you doing? Why are you naked?”
“I have pants on, and I almost fell.” His eyes narrow at me like he thinks I’m seriously unhinged, then he turns around and bends over to grab something out of his suitcase.
He’s wearing a pair of ripped black jeans that hug his ass like he just got back from leg day and got too swollen. I gulp when he pulls a white V-neck cotton shirt over his ripped, tatted up body and follows it up with a leather jacket.
Of course he does.
And of course it’s electric blue and somehow still looks devastating on him. His hair isn’t even done, and I almost want to ask him to just keep that messy wet look, but that would mean speaking and I’m finding it hard to breathe at the moment.
Again, he wasn’t thinking of me.
He was probably thinking of some supermodel or something.
He walks over to one of the tables and switches out one of his earrings in his right ear for a small dangly cross, then grabs a few rings from a box that must have magically appeared when we were showering. He follows that up with a matching cross necklace and grabs a pair of expensive looking sunglasses, I think they’re Celine, but I can’t tell and don’t want to look creepy.
“So.” He finally turns around. “You have around forty-five minutes to get ready. I’ll go grab the coffee from Dustin, and you can get ready. Let me know if you need help picking out the dress that’s supposed to murder the bride.”
“Very funny.” I crawl out of bed, forgetting I have the towel wrapped around me but not tied.
It falls past my knees. “Shit!”
“WHY!” he shouts and turns around in a circle. “Stop showing me your tits!”
“It’s not on purpose!” I yell.
He looks back at me, his expression blank, and then a frown forms across his face. “What happened to your cheek?”
I touch the now swelling piece of flesh. “I uh, fell.”
“You fell,” he deadpans. “From what great distance did you fall while I was showering?”
“Bed,” I gulp. “I mean I had a dream you killed Chuck Norris—”
“The man or the turtle?”
“The man, and then I tried to punch the air and fell out of bed and hit my face on the side table.”
“Wow, all within the span of like fifteen minutes and you were still able to get back to sleep? Impressive.”
I laugh uncomfortably. “That’s me, impressive. Besides it doesn’t look that bad, does it?”
I keep my towel tightly bound around myself and walk over to the mirror in the corner. “Oh shit.”
He comes up behind me. “You could always say you got in a fight trying to save a little girl from getting trafficked.”
I glare at him through the mirror. “A little dark for a wedding. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be working on the special song for tonight?”
“I’m going to improvise.” He crosses his arms. “You know, make shit up. Besides, we both know the only reason I’m here is to piss you off.”
“The only reason you exist is to piss me off.” I smile sweetly at him.
He leans down and rests his chin on my shoulder. I hate that I like the movement. What kind of cologne is he wearing? Or is that just hot rockstar musk with a side of tattoo? Asking for a friend.
Killian’s chin is slightly rough against my skin; his five o’clock shadow should be illegal, he’s clearly weaponizing it and knows it. “Why do I piss you off? Really, I want to know.”
“Because.” I lick my lips. “You’re arrogant.”
“You met me for a few hours and that’s what you come up with? I’m arrogant?”
I’m annoyed with my own attitude. “It’s not just—it’s not just that. It’s just… You know what? Never mind. I know we don’t get along, and I annoy you, and that you’re used to people just collapsing at your feet. Let’s just get through the weekend and everything will be great!”
“Yeah, let’s just hope my manager doesn’t catch wind that I’m suddenly engaged to the girl that I was told in no uncertain terms to drop before my career tanks even further.”
I freeze. “What?”
He shrugs. “You got the NDA, right?”
“Yes, the next day. Thanks for that. Basically, you’ll sue the shit out of me if I talk about you or share pictures of our moments together, super romantic. I literally got served papers, by a complete stranger, you know how humiliating it is to sign something that says no contact?”
“It says that?” he asks and scratches the back of his head making his shirt rise up and giving me a perfect view of his low abs. “I just thought it was a simple, don’t talk about Fight Club sort of thing.”
“Uh, no, not simple, and I would never talk about you anyway like that, but whatever.”
