Down and Dirty (Hot Jocks #5)(46)
I want that. I want someone to look at me the way Becca is looking at Owen—like he’s her whole world, and she’d be lost if he wasn’t in it.
I hardly hear the words coming out of her mouth, but their effect on Owen is immediate. My always-down-for-a-good-time buddy, the competitive hockey player I’ve come to know this past year, is gone. In his place is a six-foot-four wall of trembling emotion. He sniffs, his eyes watering as her words move him to tears.
“I’ll always be by your side, through every high and every low,” she says in a small, but sure voice. “When I realized the truth, that I loved you in a way that was big and messy and not something that could be contained, I was scared.” She swallows and pauses, her lip trembling. “Terrified, actually. But then you made it all better, just like you’ve done with every worry, every heartache I’ve experienced, every fear I had. I love you too, Owen.” She wipes away a tear tumbling down his cheek and smiles warmly at him.
The officiant announces them as husband and wife, and Owen lunges forward, lifting Becca into his arms. She squeals with surprise, then touches his jaw, guiding his mouth to hers in a sweet, slow kiss.
The guys on the team cheer loudly, and everyone claps.
Then there are photos and a champagne toast, and afterward, we’re all herded into a huge ballroom for the reception.
All throughout dinner, I’m distracted. Agitated. Aubree, on the other hand, seems calm and collected—dancing on the parquet dance floor with the girls, participating in the bouquet toss with the bridesmaids, and eating my slice of cake when I tell her I’m not interested. My knee bounces with nervous energy beneath the white linen tablecloth, and I hope she can’t tell how fucking fidgety I am.
“Should we dance?” she asks.
“Sure.” I stand and offer her my hand, trying to act like everything is normal.
Aubree slides her palm into mine, and I guide us to the center of the dance floor. The happy bride and groom are moving to the music. Most of the wedding party is on the dance floor too. Becca’s bridesmaids, being led by Owen’s sister Elise, are making up some kind of coordinated dance involving several complicated steps. I think the champagne has officially kicked in.
Grinning up at me, Aubree brings her hands to my shoulders as we begin to move.
“Having a good time?” I ask.
She nods. “It’s so beautiful.”
She’s right. The wedding has been romantic and heartfelt. It also couldn’t have been any further from mine and Aubree’s drunken, giggle-filled ceremony. Becca and Owen had cried as they recited the vows they’d written themselves. Honestly, it was pretty cool to witness. Aubree deserves a wedding like this, but instead she got a quickie Vegas wedding.
The music changes to a slow waltz. I don’t know how to waltz, but I love just having her in my arms.
As we dance together, my gaze drifts down to hers, and I’m overcome with emotion. Despite the fact I’m planning to strip her naked (and soon, I hope), my eyes lock onto hers, communicating a promise—that I’ll always be careful with her. That I want her in a way I’ve never wanted anyone before.
? ? ?
Hours later, after what is arguably the best wedding reception I’ve ever been to, we make it back to our villa. But I’m feeling no more settled than I was at dinner. The villa is dark except for a bedside lamp that glows softly across the room.
Pausing once we’re inside, I turn her body toward mine. “I’m not sure if I told you before, but you look incredible.”
Aubree smiles. “You might have mentioned something.”
She touches my chest, using me for balance as she steps out of her high heels one by one. I steady her with one hand on her waist, my mouth twitching at how our height difference becomes even more exaggerated once she’s barefoot.
My heart thuds restlessly inside my chest. I ache for her, but I have no idea what she’s thinking. But then she lifts on her toes, bringing her mouth to mine, and I get my first indication about how she wants tonight to go.
“Bree.” I breathe out her name on an exhale when her hands slip down the front of my chest, under my tuxedo jacket, and settle at my belt buckle.
“Tell me if—”
“Yes,” I blurt out gracelessly. Yes to everything.
Aubree hums out a chuckle as I get to work unzipping her dress. Is it weird that I studied where the zipper was located while she danced with Sara? Left side, the clasp just below her elbow.
Once it’s unzipped, the dress falls to her feet, and Aubree steps out of it. She’s so stunning in her nude bra and matching lace panties that I go momentarily still.
It goes without saying that I don’t know what I’m doing. Everything between us is new, and so it’s pure instinct when I lift her into my arms. Aubree drapes her arms around my shoulders and wraps her legs behind my back. I hoist her higher, and when she feels the heavy weight of my arousal pressing between us, she makes a breathless sound and rocks against me, trying to get closer.
Hell.
My feet start moving and I carry her to the bed, depositing her ungracefully into the center. As I stand beside the bed, she attacks my belt buckle, working it free as I stare down at her in awe.
The heavy weight of this moment is filled with expectation, but I’m not nervous. Not even a little. She sets my skin on fire with a simple touch, and I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything, including my spot on an NHL team.