Tapping The Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #1)(107)
We kissed until we were out of breath, our bodies instinctively moving against one another.
“Baby,” he moaned into my mouth. “Not here. Not like this. I want you in our bed.” But he didn’t stop kissing me, his perfect lips never leaving mine.
Our bed. I smiled, unable to control the love I had for this man.
He chuckled, pulling back to look at me.
“What?” I asked, a crazy, ridiculous smile still consuming my face.
“I love it when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Smile while I’m kissing you. It’s like you’re too happy to control it.”
“I am.” My cheeks burned, the goofy grin still intact.
He kissed my nose. “It’s like I’m kissing a jack-o’-lantern.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You calling me a pumpkin?”
“Yes.” His teeth found my bottom lip, tugging gently. “Baby…Georgie…Benny…pumpkin. Mine. All f*cking mine.”
“Oh, no,” I groaned, head falling back in defeat. “Not another nickname.”
“Get used to it.” He laughed, his tongue soothing the bite. “Remember? I’m Big-dicked Brooks, baby. And I’ll call you whatever I want while I’m driving you crazy with my fingers…my mouth…my cock.”
And then I was moaning. My eyes rolled back as he kissed down my jaw and sucked at the skin on my neck.
“God, Kline, I ache. I ache so bad right now,” I whimpered when his hands slid up my thighs, fingers sliding my underwear to the side.
“Don’t worry, soon-to-be Mrs. Brooks.” I felt his grin against my skin. “It might hurt, but I’ll always make sure it only hurts good.”
“Wheorgie, we need to go!” I exclaimed, grabbing our bouquets from the table and moving toward the door. We were sitting in the bridal suite, waiting for the ceremony to begin.
“Pretty sure you shouldn’t be calling me Wheorgie on my wedding day,” she retorted, her eyes still focused on the paper towel her pen was quickly scrawling across.
I stomped my heel, my flower-filled hand going straight to my hip. “Well, you’re being a bit of a Wheorgie, considering you’re going to be late for your big bridal entrance.”
She held up one finger. “Hold on, I have to finish these.”
I walked back over to her, glancing down at what she was writing.
“For real? You’re writing your vows…like, three minutes before you’re supposed to walk down the aisle?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m writing Kline’s vows.”
“He’s too lazy to write his own vows?”
Talk about a broke-ass motherf*cker, having his bride write his vows.
“No, we’re writing each other’s vows.”
Oh, never mind.
“God, you guys are so cute that it literally makes me throw up a little in my mouth.”
“Ew.” She scrunched her nose. “Stop being so gross on my wedding day.”
Three hard raps on the door startled us both. “Goddammit, Georgie! Get your ass out here. It’s time,” her father shouted from the other side.
“Just a minute, Dad!” she called back.
“Ah, shit. You’ve even got Dick mad,” I teased.
“He’s just mad because I’m marrying the man of his dreams.”
We both laughed. It was one hundred percent the truth. Dick Cummings was in love with his soon-to-be son-in-law. He thought Kline walked on water. And after Georgia accepted his proposal, we later found out when Kline had asked her dad for his blessing, Dick had responded,
“Are you sure you want to do that, son? Georgie’s a bit of a ballbuster.”
Not, “You better protect my baby girl.” Or, “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”
Nope. He had basically given him an out, or tried to keep Kline for himself, however you wanted to look at it.
“Finished!” She tossed the pen down and stood up, fluffing her dress. “How do I look?” she asked, taking one last glance at herself in the floor length mirror.
“Like the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.” Because she did. Georgia was absolutely stunning.
She turned toward me, pointing an accusing finger in my direction. “Don’t start. If you start crying, then I’ll start crying.”
“I’m not!” My face contorted into that awful expression you get when you’re trying to hold back sobs.
“Goddammit, Cass!” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
The processional music started to filter into the bridal room, and we both looked at each other with Oh, shit! expressions.
“Georgia! It’s time!” her mother sing-songed from the other side of the door.
“Am I really getting married today?” she asked, bewildered, taking the bouquet of white lilies from my outstretched hand.
“Yeah, sweet cheeks, you’re really getting married. My little, virginal best friend is all grown up. Marrying the man of her dad’s dreams.”
She giggled, flipping me the bird in a way only my best friend could pull off in a wedding dress. It was a beautiful dress—elegant mermaid cut with a small train. And it was simple yet blinged out with tiny clear crystals sewn into the bridal-white material.