To Have and to Hold (The Wedding Belles #1)(67)

“I’m going to come,” he ground out, his pace quickening. “I wish you could see yourself like this. Watching you in the reflection of the window . . . I thought nothing could beat your mouth, but this is better.”

Brooke snuck a glance over her shoulder, and the savage look on his face was all she needed to explode, this orgasm even more intense than the last one.

“Fuck,” he said as she began to clench around him. “Fuck.”

She felt him jerk, felt his fingers dig in hard to the soft flesh of her hips as he came inside her in a heart-stoppingly perfect moment of intimacy.

Brooke collapsed face-first onto the couch, and Seth fell with her, carefully maneuvering them so that her back was to his front.

It should have been awkward. Her with her shirt and no pants, him with his pants around his ankles and his shirt half-unbuttoned.

But neither seemed to care as he slid an arm beneath her head before the other came around her and pulled her even closer.

She opened her mouth, desperate for something witty to say. A casual little quip like the women of Sex and the City always had at the ready.

But she didn’t want a quip. Wasn’t sure she wanted casual, either.

Hell, Brooke wasn’t sure what she wanted.

All she knew was that she didn’t want him to leave.





Chapter Twenty-Six





SETH WASN’T ENTIRELY SURE what he was expecting from a private investigator.

A Hawaiian shirt, maybe. Or perhaps a cheap leather jacket and sunglasses worn indoors. An off-the-rack brown suit that was too big in the shoulders.

But whatever it was he was expecting, it certainly wasn’t Tommy Franklin.

The PI Seth was a heartbeat away from hiring to do some digging on Neil Garrett was . . . normal.

Tommy was slightly taller than average and had the broad, bulky frame of a man who liked his carbs but tried to combat that affection with plenty of time at the gym. There was no bad suit or Hawaiian shirt in sight, just a black sweater, dark jeans, and loafers. With his dark blond hair, blue eyes, and even features, the PI had the type of face that was attractive enough to be pleasant but not so attractive you’d remember him.

In other words, exactly the sort of person who could blend into the crowd, asking questions that wouldn’t get a second look.

“Thanks for coming,” Seth said, extending a hand toward the guest chair and inviting Tommy to sit.

“Not a problem,” the other man said affably, sitting down. “Lots of fakers out there. Always happy to give my clients whatever validation they need to feel comfortable.”

Seth had contacted the PI by email a few weeks earlier, but had held back on actually making the move. Hell, even now he still wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do, but he was losing sleep over the thought of his sister marrying this *, and he didn’t know what else to do.

Still, comfortable was a bit of a stretch.

Seth wasn’t sure any man would feel comfortable with the fact that he was about to hire someone to spy on his sister. Well, not his sister so much as the man she’d decided on.

But wasn’t that just as bad?

Hell, maybe even worse. It was flat-out saying that he didn’t trust Maya’s judgment.

Or Brooke’s, for that matter.

Which on paper made Seth a complete *.

And yet, no matter how hard he tried, and Seth had tried, he couldn’t shake the pervading sense low and dark in his gut that Neil Garrett was not the right man for his sister.

There were plenty of areas in life where his sister bested him. Charm. Wit. Likability. She was better at tennis, golf, and chess. She was a better cook and could negotiate like nobody’s business.

But when it came to reading people, Maya was too trusting. Giving people the benefit of the doubt they didn’t deserve. That was where he came in.

“So your email said your sister’s gotten in with a bad guy,” Tommy said as both men settled in their respective seats and studied each other.

Seth gave a curt nod. He’d gotten Tommy’s name from Dennis, an old college buddy, who’d hired the man to follow a cheating now ex-wife. Cliché, yes, but then the twenty-two-year-old ex had been a bit of a cliché, too, carrying on with a half dozen of Dennis’s wealthier friends, likely to hedge her bets when he eventually dumped her.

Which he had.

Point was, Dennis had trusted Tommy, and Seth trusted Dennis.

“You mind if I take notes?” Tommy asked, pulling an iPad out of his briefcase.

Seth waved his permission.

“So this boyfriend—”

“Fiancé,” Seth corrected curtly.

Tommy nodded and tapped something. “Name?”

“Neil Garrett.”

“And you don’t like him.”

“I do not.”

Tommy continued to tap. “Gut reaction? Or something specific?”

“Gut reaction,” Seth said, grateful that he didn’t have to explain it. Grateful that he didn’t have to say out loud that he was having his sister’s choices researched without so much as a shred of evidence that the man she was marrying was anything less than smitten with her.

“The gut often knows best,” Tommy said with a nod. “How long’s Garrett been in the picture?”

“They got engaged after dating for three months. Casually, apparently, as I wasn’t even aware of the guy. They’ve been engaged for about a month now. So, four months altogether,” Seth said.