Bad Idea Page 4

  That alone could provide years of daydreams.

  He arched a dark brow at me. “I know what it can do. It’s a dildo. But…it’s a dildo.”

  “Right,” I said, a little confused. Maybe we were talking about different purposes for a dildo. “Dildos do good things.”

  He grinned that dangerous little grin. “How good?”

  “Well I—”

  “On a scale of one to ten, how good was it with this?”

  “I never used that!”

  “Baby, I can give you a better orgasm than this thing and it wouldn’t cost you a dime.”

  My jaw dropped, but the rest of my body seemed to regard this as a suggestion, and the ribbons of heat turned to a hot flood of desire, centering in my pussy with one delicious shudder.

  I yanked my jaw shut and pressed my thighs together, but that sent another pulse of pleasure through my body, so I shifted to stop the pressure.

  “I highly doubt that,” I said loftily, speaking like a true expert, while my body gave another low pulse, urging me to go get some of whatever this man had to offer. I ignored my body, as I’d been doing for years now. “Tell me, Mr. Trey, does your dick have swirls and...” I waved my hand at the dildo. “That thing in the back.”

  He grinned like he’d won the lottery. “Miss Cass, my dick doesn’t need any of that.”

  “Ha. You think it doesn’t. Men are overrated,” I said, closing the topic.

  His eyes met mine. “Then you’ve been with the wrong men.”

  My body took on tropical conditions. I was hot, sweating a little, slippery-slick in places that did not bear thinking about.

  “Trust me,” I said faintly. “Dildos are better than a man any day.”

  His gaze swept down my body then made the slow climb back up, his eyes darker now, narrower, like he was zeroing in. “That sounds like a challenge,” he murmured.

  “Oh boy,” I whispered.

  He smiled.

  My body was still suggesting I fling myself at him, so I pressed my shoulders to the wall to keep the urge at bay, and curled my fingers around the little silver necklace I wore, toying with it instead of throwing myself at him.

  “I’m not crazy enough to issue a challenge to a Ranger,” I said weakly. My head was spinning, my body melting against the wall. How had I got messed up in this?

  Maybe because of his eyes. That lazy, confident gaze. His body, hard from his thighs to the line of muscles in his neck, his roped forearms and…

  “Cass?” The voice sped into the gift room like a bullet. I jumped three inches. “Cass, is that you? Come on. We’re ready to go!”

  Amber’s mom. Oh God.

  I stared in horror at the dildo in Trey’s hand.

  He was a man of action. He dropped the dildo into the deep pocket of his trousers, then kicked open his duffle bag and swept up the discarded paper and box and smashed them inside too.

  Mrs. Rothsman’s face peered in the door. “Come on!”

  “Right,” I whispered back, my face flaming. I tugged at my dress, which felt as if it had got messed up, but that was silly, because Trey hadn’t touched me. “Do I look okay?” I asked a bit wildly.

  “Dildo got you flustered?” he whispered back, smiling with that stupid, cocky male grin.

  I made a sound of rumbling fury, then he reached out and skimmed the tips of his fingers up the side of my neck.

  I froze.

  He turned his hand over and slid it backward, toward the nape of my neck, which coursed another round of belly-fluttering chills down my body.

  My nipples would never get flat again.

  “Your hair was messed up,” he said, his eyes on mine, dark in the dimness.

  “All good now?” I asked softly.

  “Yeah. You’re a little flushed, but it looks good on you.” My knees got weak. His eyes met mine. “Although…”

  I closed my hand around his forearm in terror. “What?”

  He glanced over my shoulder, then tipped forward and whispered, “Your nipples are still hard.”

  Still.

  Oh. My. God. I smashed my palms into his chest and whirled to the door.

  Mrs. Rothsman grabbed my arm and off we went, leaving behind the sexiest man east of the Rockies and the most expensive, swirly glass dildo in all of America.

  Do I know how to do weddings or what?

  6

  THE BRIDESMAIDS CONGREGATED at the doorway that led to the tented garden, me and five of Amber’s closest and richest friends.

  Each wore our crimson-red Barbie dress, which really weren’t very Barbie, but were incredibly simple and gorgeous. We each held a small, elegant, single-flower bouquet that sported a long tail of evergreens and lacy ribbons. They fell in a twisting green and ivory flutter against our red dresses.

  Our hair was up, our heels were on, and we were ready to rumble.

  From the tent beyond, the low murmur of voices of guests drifted back to where we stood, just inside the door to the hotel.

  A blend of some Christmas-cum-bridal music was being played by musicians who sat beside the altar. Our pathway from door to altar was lined with a velvet red runner so our extremely high heels wouldn’t dig up the lawn, but if we weren’t careful, it would definitely send one of us—that would be me—careening into whatever guest was closest when I tripped and fell.

  No falling. No tripping. Grace and beauty. Doing things right tonight.

  Outside, snow fell. Flakes drifted out of a velvet-dark night sky, sparkling in the candle glow as they floated to the earth beside the open walls of the tent. Propane heat lamps stood at every row of chairs, but it wasn’t cold with all these bodies and all this energy. It was gorgeous. Silent but for the guitar and flute. Almost reverent.

  Perfect for a Christmas wedding in Connecticut.

  But the wind was picking up. The lights flickered behind us once, inside the hotel. The girls squeed and Amber frowned at the gods. Good thing there were lots of candles. And good thing this was a hotel, where people could sleep, because it sounded like a storm was kicking up.

  I closed my eyes and exhaled the sexual tension of earlier. When I opened them, Trey was standing behind our fluttering enclave, looking straight at me.

  I tensed right back up.

  I excused my way through the crowd and went to him.

  “You forgot something,” he murmured.

  I was suddenly terrified. If he was going to hand me that stupid dildo right here—

  He lifted his hand. My necklace that had fallen off was looped around two thick fingers. I’d completely forgotten about it.

  “Oh, wow, thanks,” I whispered, and slid the delicate silver chain off his tanned fingers, then swallowed and looked up into his eyes.

  They were unreadable. All the mischief was gone. He was enigmatic, the epitome of hard, inscrutable maleness.

  “Clasp was broke. I fixed it.”

  “You fixed my necklace?” I held it tight.

  He smiled a little. “It was just a clasp.”

  “Right. Just a clasp.” Just the part that held the whole thing together.

  “Want me to get it for you?” he said, nodding at the necklace.

  I looked over my shoulder. There were five bridesmaids and a wedding planner bustling around us, but…seriously? Trey wanted to touch me?

  “Please.” I turned around and tipped my head down.

  He stepped up behind me. I felt him like a wall of heat. His hands moved, slow and warm, working the clasp, then the cool metal settled against the back of my neck. I closed my eyes for a second, then turned and gave him a regular smile, not the kind of smile that said, ‘kiss me, you fool.’

  “Thanks.”

  He nodded.

  “You better go get your seat, we’re about to start,” I urged softly.

  He swept up the ever-present duffle bag and, with a simple nod, turned and strode into the tent.

  A moment later, I slid a hand into the flap and pushed it aside to peek through, e
xamining the crowd.

  Fine. Looking for Trey.

  People stood in small clusters and perched in chairs, half-turned, talking to their neighbors. About a hundred people were here, more to come at the reception.

  I spotted Trey in seconds. Alone. At the end of the back row, in the last seat, separated by three empty seats from the people next in line.

  Something punched through my chest. My brow furrowed up.

  No. No way.

  I started to slide through the tent flap. Behind me, Amber hissed, “Cassidy, where are you going?”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “No, you can’t—”

  I thrust up my hand, palm out. “I will be right back,” I said very firmly.

  Her jaw sagged.

  I slipped out into the warm, murmuring tent and saw Trey looking over his shoulder at me. I skirted the back row and made my way to his seat.

  “Brave,” he murmured as I knelt beside him.

  “What?”

  “You flipped Amber off.”

  “Oh, no…Well, maybe. Okay, absolutely. But it was just a gentle flip off.”

  “Yeah, but a flip off just the same.”

  “Yeah, a flip off.” I thought about it a second and smiled. “Felt good.”

  He grinned a little. “They always do.”

  “Well, honestly, it’s your fault,” I told him.

  “How’d I get mixed up in this?”

  I bent to his ear and said softly, “Get up.”

  “What’d I do?”

  “You sat in the wrong place. Come with me.”

  He rolled to his feet, grabbed the duffle bag shoved under his seat, and came.

  “Wow, you’re obedient,” I complimented him.

  “Oh yeah, that’s me. Always following orders.”

  “Bet you got tired of that,” I whispered, reaching for his arm. He immediately bent it, folding my hand into the crook of his arm. For no particular reason, I curled my fingers around his bicep.

  Wow.

  I guided him along the aisle outside the rows of seats, between the guests and the snow that was falling harder now.

  “Sometimes following orders is okay,” he replied as we made our way.

  I made a little dismissive sound. “You’re more the in-charge kind of guy.”

  “Is that how you see me?”

  I laughed softly. “It’s how the whole world sees you, Trey.”

  “Yeah, but…fuck the whole world.”

  “Wow, that’s a harsh motto.”

  “Harsh world. And I don’t have mottos.”

  “That sounded like a motto,” I teased, tipping my head up to smile at him.

  “I like being in charge, Cass,” he said simply, his voice low, and whoosh, my nipples reasserted themselves, my belly flipped over, and chills somersaulted from my breasts to my pussy. It was like a circus under my skin.

  My mind got in on the act, swiping through images of Trey being in charge. How he’d do it. What he’d say. Get naked, Cass. Get on the bed. Spread your fucking legs…

  Yeah. He’d say ‘fucking.’ A lot.

  I became a fireball of a flush. Heat burned on my cheeks and chin and across my forehead. I was surprised the snowflakes falling a few feet away didn’t start melting.

  I tilted my face down so he wouldn’t see.

  Stupid face. Stupid flushes. Stupid, high-octane sexual energy emanating from this man.

  We stopped at the front row and I pointed to the empty chairs behind where Ben would stand.

  “Right here,” I said, pushing him toward them.

  Pushing him was like pushing on a truck. He didn’t move. “That’s for family.” His voice was hard.

  I redoubled my efforts, pushing harder. He looked at me like I was a buzzing insect.

  “You’re family,” I said. “You see those seats?” I pointed across the aisle to the bride’s side. Three rows of family all talking amongst themselves. “She has family. Lots of it. Ben and I have Ben and I. And you. Now sit,” I ordered.

  We stared at each other. I thought he was going to disagree. He was the kind of guy to do it. Always going his own way, and now with that hard, harsh look in his eye… Yeah, he might do anything.

  I considered, very briefly, leaping up and hooking my knees around his hips and wrestling him down into one of the chairs.

  But that would draw attention, and also make me orgasm on the spot, so I decided not to. But Trey had to sit here. It was perfectly right. It had to be. I saw that now. He had to say yes this much… He had to be part of something. Be part of us.

  Be part of me.

  Suddenly and smoothly, he moved into the row and sat down, right on the end. Ready to bolt, I guess.

  I smiled at him. “Good boy.”

  “Oh yeah.” His voice was shiver-low.

  “Now stay good for at least an hour,” I whispered, bending to straighten the lapel of his coat that had got mussed when I’d pushed him.

  “An hour tops,” he agreed amiably, but I barely heard him because out of the pocket of his pants, I saw the tip of a rounded, sea-blue, glassy globe.

  “Oh my God.” I bent down and leaned so close I could count his eyelashes. He had a lot of them. “You brought that thing here?” I hissed.

  He looked at me, all innocent. “What thing?” he stage-whispered back.

  I lifted a warning finger between our faces. His eyes slid to my finger, then came back.

  “Do you mean the dil—?”

  I pressed my finger over his mouth. “Shhh.”

  Warm. Male. Lips. Scrape of facial hair.

  Our eyes met above my crimson-painted fingernail. “You mean Old Blue?” he murmured against the line of my finger. “Yeah, I got him.”

  A laugh bubbled up in me. I smashed it down. “Why did you bring him here?”

  “Just keeping him safe and sound.”

  Oh God, now we were talking about the dildo as a ‘he.’

  The feel of his mouth moving against my body, even something as asexual as my index finger, made me a little dizzy.

  “How is bringing a dildo to a wedding ‘safe and sound’?” I demanded, staying on task.

  “Baby,” he said, real slow. “You might want to move your finger before I do something to it.”

  I didn’t know if he meant break it or suck it into his mouth, but either one was going to hurt me. Probably breaking less than being sucked on, because I’d get swept up in his low-down power and slow male confidence, then tossed aside when he moved on.

  Which was inevitable. Trey was back in the States with no holds barred. A wide open future. And no way was a simple underachiever like me going to win this guy. Decorated Ranger, saved lives, took lives, talked about none of it, looking at me like I don’t know what.

  Like he wanted to devour me.

  I dropped my hand.

  “How,” I repeated, “is bringing him here keeping it safe?”

  “You want him sitting in my duffle bag, waiting to be found?”

  “Couldn’t you put him in your room?”

  He looked me over. “What if I don’t have one?”

  He can sleep in our room, my body suggested.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Keep that thing covered.”

  He looked uncertain about the feasibility of this. “Well, Cass, to be honest, it’s pretty big…”

  Another laugh pushed at me. “You are not being good right now.”

  “Sure I am,” he drawled, grinning. “I’m not looking down your dress.”

  I jerked straight and laid a palm across my chest, a protective barrier. But my nipples, rebellious things, were still hard.

  I gave him a final warning look and marched back up the grass, stumbling only a couple times.

  I joined the rest of the bridal party inside the door. Amber scowled at me, but went back to talking to someone who was trying to adhere one more sparkly gem to her veil.

  “Who was that guy?” one of the bridesmaids asked, bending h
er knees to peer through the tent flap.

  I fussed with the lace of my bouquet. “Trey Dante, Ben’s best friend.”

  She straightened and looked at me. “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Wow,” I echoed.

  “Maybe I’ll find him during the reception,” she murmured, nudging another of the crimson-dressed bridesmaids, who peered at Trey too.

  “He looks fine,” the first one said.

  The other nodded, giggling. “Like he knows how to have a good time.”

  “Yeah, bet he’s a lot of fun,” the second one whispered.

  “He’s not fine,” I snapped, feeling oddly, insanely protective. “And he’s not fun. He’s been through a lot and you should just…leave him alone.”

  Bridesmaid Number One leaned her shoulders back a little. “Whoa. Calm down. I’m just saying, for one night—”

  “Don’t talk about him like that,” I snapped.

  In unison, they narrowed their eyes at me like they were going to take me out back the schoolhouse, when Marigold the wedding planner came hurrying up, shushing us.

  “Showtime,” she whispered. We all fell silent like we were backstage at a school play.

  The music changed, and another door to the hotel opened up, a little ways up the hill, and the men walked out, Ben in the middle of their loose, easy midst. They trailed like a football team on its way back from practice.

  Men had it so easy.

  Ben looked happy. Which made me happy. Never mind that I was losing my roommate, my bestie, my apartment, and, well, pretty much everything else, I was truly happy that he was happy.

  I’d be okay. I always was. Never amazing, never destroyed. Just…moderately okay.

  There were worse ways to live a life, right?

  There were probably better ways too.

  Snowflakes fell on their black suits as they made the short march to the tent, then strode up the aisle. As he got to the front, Ben’s head turned slightly toward the groom’s side of the tent, no doubt to examine the row of empty chairs.

  Ben and I didn’t talk much about our lack of family, but we sure felt it.

  He stopped short.

  He’s seen Trey.

  I folded my fingers around the tent flap, holding my breath. I knew how I’d felt, seating Trey in our family section. I could only imagine how Ben would feel, seeing him there.