Thrive (Addicted, #4)(81)
Connor holds out his hand, and Rose approaches with a narrowed, passionate gaze. She takes his hand in hers. She’s still in her white wedding dress with sheer material around her collarbones. A high slit runs up her leg, but the tulle netting flows around her limbs so much that you can hardly tell until she walks. Sexy and classy.
She designed that dress, sewed it together for me, but it’s her style and something she loved with each last thread. Daisy stole the gown to have the bust altered to match the measurements of Rose’s bridesmaid’s dress. It fit her perfectly.
They wait for the music to start, questions flickering in Rose’s gaze about Connor’s song choice. The moment the instruments create a sweet, silky noise, Rose’s hand flies to her mouth. And her eyes begin to glass.
Connor pulls her closer to his chest, his grin so bright. Her hands tremble. Both have now risen to her lips that part with unrestrained surprise. She shakes her head, and I start crying as soon as rare happy tears stream down her cheeks. French lyrics leave the singer’s mouth like honey.
The music is gorgeous, even if I can’t understand a single word.
“What song is this?” I murmur, wiping my eyes quickly.
“No clue,” Lo says, the corners of his mouth lifting the longer he watches Connor and Rose in the center of the room. There aren’t many dry eyes around here.
Connor kisses Rose’s forehead and I read his lips: I love you.
I bite my gums to stop the waterworks from beginning all over again. Every moment of Rose’s wedding has been a surprise, and with each one, I think that we’ve all realized how well Connor knows her and how much he truly, truly loves her.
“La Vie En Rose,” Ryke suddenly says with a French lilt.
“What?” My brows pinch together.
“The song,” he says, “it’s called La Vie En Rose.”
“How do you know that…?” I ask, my voice trailing off, distracted for a second by my sister. Rose calms after the initial overwhelming shock of the song choice. And they begin to slow dance together.
“It’s a popular song,” he says before walking backwards. “I’m going to get another drink. You two want anything?”
“Bourbon, no ice,” Lo quips dryly.
“Hilarious,” Ryke says with zero humor. He nods to me. “What about you?”
I can’t get over how he said La Vie En Rose, like he understood exactly how to pronounce each syllable in the foreign language. If I said the song title, it’d sound like an American butchering the words. “Do you know these lyrics?” I ask.
“They’re in French,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at the growing line to the bar. “Last chance, Lily.”
“Fizz Life,” I place my order, letting my suspicions go with it. He weaves between the guests, and I focus my attention elsewhere. “Do you think they’ll be okay?” I ask Lo as we watch Connor spin Rose with poise and masculinity. They haven’t confronted the serious repercussions of having a sex tape floating on the internet.
Once they start Googling themselves and the hatred and criticism pours through—they’ll feel the real sting. It’s not fun.
“Yeah,” Lo says. “They’re Connor and Rose.” He says their names like they’re a fortress of steel. While I agree on some accounts, he hasn’t calculated the fact that negative cannon-blasts from tabloids can easily knock down their defenses.
“Yeah but they’ll need us,” I say with a nod. “We’ve been through this before.” We’ll pay it forward, be a friendly shoulder to cry on like Rose was to me. Not that she sheds more than a few tears a year.
He stays quiet on the matter, his eyes darting to alcoholic beverages in almost everyone’s hands. It’s an open bar. He wears that mildly annoyed look that he used to get in college, when happy people flaunted their enthusiasm in front of him.
Just as the first song ends, guests begin to join Rose and Connor on the dance floor. Instead of rushing to the middle, a hoard of people edge closer to us. They unfortunately linger, as though to eavesdrop. We haven’t had a single reporter bombard us with questions because Connor ordered them not to, but they’re studying our movements from afar…well, now they’re doing it from five feet.
I press up against Lo’s hard, lean body. The spot between my legs pulses, and my arm latches around his waist. If I shift just a little close I can feel his bulge—
“Lily,” he says softly, staring down at me. He fixes a piece of my flyaway hair. “If you rub up against me anymore, I’m going to get hard.”
Ohmygod. I let out a shallow breath. “That’s the point…” Or is it not the point? We’re not allowed to have sex at my sister’s wedding, are we? That’s old, bad Lily.
This is Lily 2.0. Scratch that—this is Lily 3.0. Brand spanking new.
He groans a little. “Lil…” He pries my fingers off his toned ass. Oh Jeez. I redden. “Spanking” is a very dangerous word. The intensity in his amber eyes magnifies when they bore into me. His chest falls heavier than before.
Lo doesn’t distance himself from me. Not once. Instead he closes the gap, kissing me with an urgency that I’ve missed dearly.
My limbs shake as his palm cups the back of my head, his fingers gripping my hair, his tongue skillfully sliding against mine. We part for one single breath.