Bad Idea Page 5

  Like it was so right.

  For a second, he stood motionless. Then he bent and I leaned out further to watch him wrap an arm around Trey’s shoulders for a hard, fast hug. He straightened again and took the last couple steps to the altar, then turned and looked across the congregated friends and business partners.

  His eyes were bright with tears. He was smiling.

  My heart swelled.

  “And you’re off,” whispered Marigold as the music changed again, and out went the first bridesmaid.

  7

  THE CEREMONY was good, as good as a wedding ceremony can be. They kept it short and sweet, and as someone who could stand in formation for hours but hate every minute of it, I appreciated anything non-sexual that was short and sweet.

  On-sexual activity though…that was a different matter. And Cass was making me very aware of how drawn out and dirty I wanted to make the matter.

  She stood in the slippery red dress just skimming her knees, her hands holding the bouquet demurely before her belly, the picture of innocence.

  But she’d bought a big-ass dildo for someone, and her breath got fast and unsteady when she watched me hold it, and all I could think of was how good it would look to drop her to her knees and push it up inside her, hear her scream from the pleasure.

  Once every minute, almost like clockwork, she slid a glance to my groin, then my eyes, then looked away, fighting a smile.

  So the next time she looked over, I flipped my jacket to the side so she could see the outline of Old Blue.

  A flush swept her cheeks. The ends of hair falling down over her shoulders trembled. The dress almost shimmered like firelight as her breathing dropped into the fast and shallow range.

  Yeah. Give it to her hard.

  Not. Fuck. Able.

  I was pretty sure bending her over a table and taking her from behind wasn’t what Ben meant when he said ‘devotion.’

  But I really liked this woman flushed and off-balance. Liked her all sorts of ways, actually, many of them non-sexual. She was smart, easy-going, and didn’t want a lot of spotlight. Didn’t need it as far as I was concerned; I’d see her in a dark room. Had seen her in a dark room, clutching the dildo box to her chest, her eyes wide, her cheeks pink, all sexy-flustered.

  “Stop.” She mouthed the word at me.

  I shook my head slowly.

  Her head swiveled away, but her cheeks lifted in an irrepressible smile.

  Yeah, I liked her a lot.

  A moment later, her face inched back around. Her gaze dropped to my lap.

  I slid my jacket aside again. The rounded tip of the dildo poked out.

  Her chin rumpled and she turned to the altar, masking the huge smile on her face as general happiness about the wedding.

  I grinned.

  I hadn’t grinned about anything this sweet and fun for a long fucking time.

  I wanted more of it.

  Next time she shifted her gaze over, she met my eye and angled one of her brows up an inch, a dark upward swipe that set off her eyes, like, Is that all you got, cowboy? Not impressed.

  Definitely a challenge.

  Hand in my pocket, I slid the jacket to the side again, and stroked my thumb up the length of the dildo, to the top, then rolled it over and back down.

  Her lips parted like on a pant, then the tip of her tongue came out, resting in the corner of her red-painted mouth a second, and her teeth closed around her bottom lip.

  She wanted it.

  Fuck, I wanted it.

  She looked back to Ben and Amber, her teeth still holding her bottom lip. A second passed, that’s all it took, and her eyes came back to me—just her eyes, not her head—staring at my dick, which was now hard beside Old Blue.

  She slid her gaze up. The moment our eyes met, they locked.

  An explosion of applause made both of us jerk. Ben was giving Amber a kiss. The wedding was over, and I’d spent the whole thing seducing my best friend’s little sister.

  Best day I’d had in a long fucking time.

  Too bad it had to end.

  8

  BEN AND AMBER strode out of the tent, man and wife, followed by the bridal party, then the guests, and somewhere back there, a huge blue dildo hiding in the pocket of a man who knew how to use it.

  I fanned my face as I took my place in the receiving line.

  I shook hands with people, effusing with guests I didn’t know over the radiant beauty of a ceremony I’d barely watched, thank you very much Old Blue.

  Thank-you Trey, for making me flushed and excited in a way I hadn’t been for a long time. Possibly ever.

  When the line was almost finished and all the guests saving a few elderly aunts had been properly received, and wedding photos were about to begin, I looked up to find Trey standing at the edge of the tent, duffle bag at his feet. His shoulder was to a post, the suit coat pressed to his muscular arms. His gaze slid slowly up the line, examining every face.

  High alert Trey.

  His gaze reached mine over the shoulder of an aunt. I smiled. He didn’t.

  Something about his stance made me frown. I squinted at him in silent query. He just kept looking at me.

  A little chill walked through me.

  “Cass!”

  I ripped my gaze away as the urgent hiss came in from my side. One of the bridesmaids was hurrying toward me, her eyes wide.

  “Cass!” She sounded half panicked. “Come, quick.”

  “What is it?”

  “The peacocks,” she hissed. “I think they’re angry.”

  “Oh shit,” I muttered.

  I threw a glance back at Trey, who was still looking at me, then took off at a trot for the hotel, where two hundred and fifty well-dressed guests were drinking cocktails with a flock of angry peacocks.

  “Where’s Marigold?” I demanded as we hurried inside.

  Bridesmaid Laura shook her head frantically. “I don’t know. She went to talk with the hotel people because the lights are still flickering. Come on.”

  She pointed to a far corner of the hall, beside a door that led to a back room, where boxes of garland and wedding favors had been stored. In front of the door milled the peacocks.

  Laura started to peel off in the other direction. “I have to get back to Amber,” she said apologetically.

  “Go, go,” I said, making my way over.

  Eight gorgeous peacocks milled nervously around the door, their long, feathery tails skimming the floor. A few reception guests turned to them, drinks in hand.

  Their handler, a young guy in a suit and jeans, looked nervous.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, coming up beside him.

  “They’re not happy.”

  I’m no expert on bird behavior, but I agreed with this assessment. The largest one looked real unhappy. The one behind him looked even less pleased with the situation. A third, just coming out of the back room, looked fully pissed.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong. Maybe they don’t like the music,” the handler muttered.

  I don’t know if birds can narrow their eyes, but I’m pretty sure this one did.

  I heard a little yip from somewhere in the background.

  Uh oh.

  “I knew this was a bad idea,” the handler muttered. “I need to get them packed up. They’re not usually…aggressive…” he said, his arms in a herding motion to keep them at bay as one of the birds veered left, where a cluster of guests gasped in happiness.

  I mirrored him, arms out. “Do they like dogs?” I asked, moving in on one.

  “Well, they don’t like being cornered.”

  “Oh.” I backed up.

  I felt Trey come up behind me. I knew it was him because my nipples got hard.

  He looked at the birds a second then moved to his right, cutting them off that way.

  “Oh thank God,” I exhaled in relief. “A Ranger.”

  I felt Trey grin as he stood sentry in front of the cake table.

  The birds moved restless
ly around the table legs, pecking at random things. Around us, people started pulling out cameras.

  One of the birds eyed me, then shuffled his back end. His tail rose and opened, unveiling gorgeous, feathery plumage. One ray of his tail bumped the head of another of the peacocks and the two of them lifted their sleek heads and released a strange, haunting cry. Sort of the same pitch as a rooster, but more like a jungle animal.

  A hooting, pissed off, jungle animal.

  “Oh boy,” I murmured. “Is that an angry sound?”

  “That’s a mating sound,” the handler said grimly.

  We looked at the birds, then one suddenly took flight.

  “Oh shit, they can fly,” I said, skittering backward on my heels into Trey.

  The bird went up about four feet and came down on one of the tables, beside a carafe of red wine. The room erupted into hooting jungle calls.

  “Trey,” I almost leapt on him. “They’re not happy.”

  “I agree,” he said, his arm going around my back.

  Another bird took flight and landed on the table beside his buddy. Only they didn’t look like buddies. It looked like they were squaring off. Peacock fight.

  “They’re angry birds,” I whispered, eyeing them up.

  “I would be too, if someone took me to a wedding for display purposes,” Trey murmured.

  The handler circled around to open the door to the back room.

  “What do you call a flock of peacocks?” I asked.

  “I’d call this one angry,” Trey replied, standing beside me.

  “Definitely pissed.”

  “No one likes a wedding.”

  I looked up at him. “You don’t sound nervous.”

  “I’ve seen worse.”

  Yeah, I guess he had. Being in a war and all. But for me, this was a little unnerving. Although his arm around my back made me feel better. Safer. At least from a rear attack.

  “Are they going to fight?” I said.

  “Not sure about that. Looks like.”

  We were quiet a second.

  “If they rush us, which one do you want?” Trey asked.

  I looked them over. “I’ll take the little guy in the back. You can take the others.”

  His body gave a low rumble of laughter. “Deal.”

  Everyone was ooh-ing and ahh-ing and snapping pictures, which was great and all, but then one idiot crouched down with his camera, coming closer, closer…and one of the birds rushed him.

  Screams from humans and hoots from birds sliced through the room. I don’t think the guy was hurt, but he gave a shout and a woman screamed, and the birds started running.

  The handler backed up in the face of their charge, tripped over a cage he’d carried out and sort of rolled into it as one of the birds came in from the side. I reached down for him and a peacock kicked out and jabbed at me with his beak, which I totally understood.

  “Careful, their claws and beaks are like knives,” the handler called as he staggered to his feet.

  The peacocks were in prison break mode now and they hurtled forward like escapees. The birds on the table, feeling feisty, took flight again, a bumpy route about four feet in the air. I ducked.

  Trey was on the move. He pulled me out of the mess, hand on my wrist, setting me behind him, then reached in and dragged the other guy up, his gaze on the restless, confused birds.

  Drink drenching his sleeve, the guy practically ran behind the cake table. So did all the other men standing nearby. I looked at the women and waved them back too.

  That left me and Trey and the handler to face their feathered fury.

  Trey stepped in front of me and slowly walked toward them. They turned to him like he was their commanding officer.

  The handler stepped up beside him.

  Trey removed his jacket and gently tossed it over the nearest, angriest bird, which immediately quieted him. The handler did the same to another bird with a blanket.

  “Back room,” he said, and together, the three of us herded them into the room. Trey kicked the door shut behind us.

  Well.

  The handler blew out a breath. “Fucking idiots,” he muttered, and I didn’t think he was talking about the birds. He looked at Trey. “Can you help me get them into the cages?”

  The handler dragged cages off the tables where they sat beside boxes for garland and other decorations, and where wedding party folk had dropped their gear.

  They herded the birds into them. Now caged and feeling safe again, the peacocks got calm, staring quietly at us like they didn’t know what all the ruckus was about.

  “Right,” I said shakily, pushing back strands of my hair that had come loose in the excitement. “That was fun.”

  Trey turned to me. “You okay?”

  “Absolutely. But I might need someone to throw a blanket over me to calm me down.”

  The handler wiped his hand through his hair. “Sorry about that.”

  “Not your fault.”

  “I mean, they’re birds, not decorations.” He sounded angry, then looked at Trey. “Thanks, man,” he muttered, and picked up a cage of birds and carried it out the back door.

  No more peacocks for Amber.

  We handed off the cages to the handler guy one by one, then he thanked us again and drove off into the snowy world with a vanful of hooting birds.

  9

  WE STOOD AT THE DOOR watching them go. My hair was a little messed up and I was sort of bouncing on my toes, looking for something else to do. I felt amped up and excited.

  Who knew peacock wrangling could be so invigorating?

  “You sure you’re okay?” Trey said.

  “Do I not look okay?”

  He looked me over. “You look like you did a line of coke.”

  Being looked over by Trey got me even more amped up. “It was a little exciting,” I admitted. “And don’t worry about me. If a Ranger can do it, so can I.”

  He smiled. “Don’t bet on it.”

  I pushed back some of the loose strands of my hair. “Actually, I could have totally handled that guy in the back, but the big one? He looked scary.”

  “Definitely scary.”

  “Thanks for saving me.”

  “My pleasure.” He said it like he meant it, smiling. “You’ve had a lot of upsetting cocks in your life today, huh?”

  I laughed. I felt a little high.

  The lights of the hotel flickered again. They stayed out for a couple seconds. From the banquet hall, we heard squees and a few loud, reassuring manly voices, knights who were willing come to the rescue of girls in high heels, but not help herd a few frightened peacocks.

  Trey’s gaze dropped to me. “Guess you better go line up for introductions,” he suggested quietly.

  I was more thinking I should jump him, but that didn’t seem right. “Sure, yeah,” I said, touching my hair. “I guess I better.”

  I moved slowly toward the door, Trey walking behind me. The lights went out again, plunging the room into pitch darkness.

  This time, they stayed out.

  We stopped short, mid-stride.

  From the hall, screams and laughter and shrieks of terror and calls for calm—you’d think they were on the Titanic—came drifting back, but here, in the dark little enclave of the peacock wranglers, all was quiet.

  Trey stood behind me, an inch away. I didn’t move. Neither did he.

  Looks like neither of us were moving.

  “Um, Cass?” he said a second later.

  I laughed in the darkness.

  The blackness around us intensified everything. I heard his slow breaths, felt his body, a wall of heat and muscle behind me.

  No way was I moving.

  I bit my lip, trying to slow my breath. I practiced a little yoga breathing, but nothing worked. All I was aware of was the heat of his body behind me, so close. I wanted it closer.

  Holding my breath, dizzy with possibility, I tipped my hips back the littlest bit, and held against him.

  Si
lence from behind me. Trey didn’t move a muscle.

  Embarrassment flooded my body, cold and bad. I started to move away, to pretend it had never happened, when his hands landed on my hips. They curled, holding me there.

  My heart hammered, blood sweeping through me so fast my head spun. I couldn’t think straight. I might do anything in this state.

  Thank God.

  LUST POUNDED through me in a hard, fast surge the moment she touched my body. I felt it in my balls, my dick, my blood, coursing like a river through me.

  Take this fucking woman, now.

  I held it all at bay. I didn’t move a muscle, tried to control my breathing, which forced it shallow and slow.

  “Bad idea, Cass,” I murmured into her hair.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Seconds passed, then her head tipped back and leaned against my collarbone.

  I still didn’t move.

  “I think I need a bad idea,” she whispered.

  What the hell was I supposed to say to that?

  Nothing. Instead, I pushed my hips forward, into her ass, slid my dick into the seam between her cheeks and rolled up.

  A tiny, whispered gasp burst from her, sweet and broken, and my balls got heavy. Lust coiled around me, shutting down my brain. I was going to get stupid in a second.

  Where I’d been, getting stupid could get you dead.

  My fingers were hard against the slippery-silk of her dress, so calloused and work-hardened I barely felt the material. But I felt her body beneath it. In the darkness, it was all I was aware of, hot, curving, feminine sweet Cass. Her breath was coming fast.

  “Do you know what I want to do to you?” I said in a low, warning voice.

  She took a shaky breath, then rocked her hips back again. “Show me.”

  “Bad fucking idea.”

  She made an impatient sound. It pressed her shoulder blades against my chest and I knew exactly how good she’d feel if I took her. Strip that dress off her in two seconds flat, push her up against the table, bend her over, spread my hands over her back, feel the chills take her body as I kicked her legs apart…