CHAPTER FOUR | VANESSA
Another day, another wedding…I thought idly as I traced my fingertip around the rim of my wine glass, then raised it to take a sip.
Today’s affair: the nuptials of my childhood best friend, Cassidy Laurent, and her hot fireman husband, Brady Hudson, at Hartford’s scenic Elizabeth Park.
As Fairy Godmother and Maid of Honor, I had worked double-duty. My day started at the crack of dawn: first there was hair, then make up…then, after a tearful heart-to-heart, there was more makeup.
Then more Maid of Honor duties kicked in. There had been details to oversee: transportation to arrange, catering to coordinate, sound system equipment to set up…
We managed to get to the park in one piece, and after a few more mascara touch-ups, it was time for the bride and groom to say “I do” in a twilight ceremony in the Rose Garden.
Afterwards, we all shuffled over to the park’s Pond House for the reception. And when the first bottle of champagne was popped and the ‘first dance’ song was played, I was finally able to collapse in my seat and let out the breath that I had been holding in all day. My duties were done…and now it was time to relax and enjoy whatever the night had in store.
Like wine. Lots of wine.
From my seat at the edge of reception hall, I could see the newlyweds swaying together on the dance floor. Brady’s hands were wrapped around her waist, and a silver wedding band glinted from his ring finger. He was wearing a permanent grin on his face, and he was whispering something into her ear…something that made her cheeks turn hot pink.
Maybe I’d had too much wine…or maybe my resolve had been softened by all of the tearful declarations of love that I had witnessed over the course of the day. Whatever it was, I couldn’t help but get goosebumps as I watched them glide around the dance floor in each other’s arms.
There’s something about two people in love, I thought. Something so...
“Sickening,” a dry voice remarked, startling me out of my thoughts and forcing me to break my stare. My eyes shot across the table to the man sitting a few chairs down from me. He was staring at the dance floor as he stabbed his fork into a piece of wedding cake.
“What did you say?”
“I said that I find this sickening,” he flicked his eyes towards mine, and it was like staring straight into two grey storm clouds. “Don’t you think?”
I frowned. Even though we hadn’t been formally introduced, I recognized him right away from the wedding party: he was the groom’s brother and best man.
What was his name again? John? Jake? Joe? I couldn’t remember…
“I think that’s a rude thing to say about your brother’s wedding,” I said.
His eyebrow arched up and he opened his mouth to say something, but I cut in first:
“I mean…if you want to call the institution of marriage ‘sickening,’ then I will agree with you wholeheartedly. Everything about it is backwards and based on archaic traditions and societal expectations. Yet we still celebrate weddings, as if we don’t already know that fifty percent of marriages are doomed from the start…”
His eyes narrowed in amusement as he watched me ramble.
I sound like a crazy person, I realized. Is this the Cabernet talking?
I shoved my wine glass between my lips to shut myself up, and I forced down a giant swig. Then I let out a deep breath.
“I don’t think it’s really fair to call Brady and Cass ‘sickening.’ I think they’re sweet together, and I’ve known Cassidy for a long time, and I want her to be happy and--”
I’m rambling again. I bit my tongue, forcing myself to shut up.
From across the table, the best man’s lips curled up into a smug smirk. He slowly raised his fork, showing me the sliver of cake that was resting on the silver prongs. Straight down the middle of the cake, a fingertip had carved a groove into the frosting.
“What I was trying to say,” he said with a smirk, “Is that I think it’s sickening that someone would disrespect a wedding cake like this.”
He shook his head in mock disgust as he inspected the piece of cake.
“I mean…talk about an affront to tradition,” he said. “Who steals frosting off of a wedding cake?”
My cheeks turned bright red, and I lowered my face so that I could hide behind the globe of my wine glass.
“Shit,” I groaned. “I’m sorry…I misunderstood what you were saying. I didn’t mean to…nevermind. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said.
I slowly lowered the wine glass and glanced up at him over the rim.
“You’re right,” he said. “I love my brother and Cass, but I still think getting married is a fucking crazy thing to do.”
Something about the way he said the word ‘fuck’ made my insides clench.
“You do?” I frowned.
“Sure,” he shrugged. “But so is running into a burning building, and I do that on a daily basis.”
So you’re a fireman too, huh?
“That’s different…” I gulped.
“Is it?” he asked me, eyes smoldering into my soul. “Maybe we all do crazy things sometimes. Maybe we all believe that if we’re in control, we can beat the odds. If my brother wants to marry a girl that he loves because he thinks that they can beat the odds together…”
He shrugged again. Then he popped the sliver of tainted cake into his mouth and dropped his empty fork on the plate. His eyes stayed locked on mine as he raised his elbows onto the table. He had already shed his suit jacket from the reception, and the white sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows.
Both of his forearms were wrapped in white gauze bandages.
“What happened to your arms?” I asked. “Are those…burns?”
His eyes flicked down to the bandages, as if he had forgotten about them. Then those stormy grey eyes glanced back up to me.
“I did something crazy because I thought I could beat the odds.”
“Did you?” I asked. “Beat the odds, I mean?”
“Every fucking time,” he grinned.
That word again. The way he said it…the way his teeth dug into his bottom lip to make that dirty, filthy sound…it turned me on.
His eyes flashed up to mine and I saw a twinkle from somewhere deep behind the foggy grey.
You’re really fucking sexy, I decided suddenly. My stomach swirled in cyclones as I stared back at him. I went to take another sip of Cabernet, but the glass was empty.
“I could use another drink,” I said. “Want to join me at the bar?”
‘Join me at the bar’?! I winced. Is that the best you can do?!
“I want to say ‘I do,’” his eyes flashed with a grin, “But wouldn’t that just be playing into some archaic tradition or societal expectation where a guy has to buy a girl a drink, just to get her to talk to him?”
“I’m not asking you to buy me a drink or try to talk to me,” I frowned stubbornly.
“Well if you’re not interested in talking…” his eyebrow shot up. “What are you interested in?”
My stomach was flipping and sizzling like pancakes on a griddle.
“Come on,” his smile loosened and he stood up from his chair. “Let’s go get you that drink.”
Sitting down, I hadn’t realized how tall he was…but once he was towering over me, I could fully appreciate his height. I could also appreciate just how broad his shoulders were, and how massive each of his biceps was.
I want to run my hands over every inch of-- I started to think, before I stopped that thought dead in its tracks. No. Get your mind out of the gutter, Vanessa. You can’t grope the best man at your best friend’s wedding…
I was still glued to my seat, and he reached down to offer me his hand. My eyes found the bandages wrapped around his arms again.
You don’t get burns like that from pulling cats out of trees…I thought to myself. I wonder how he got those burns? Running into a burning building? Rescuing someone? Being a…hero?
The vision made my insides melt.
I reached forward and placed my hand in his, and I immediately felt the warmth of his fingers lacing between my own.
Keep. Your. Shit. Together.
The open bar was at the opposite end of the reception hall, and that meant we had to navigate the sea of bodies that crowded the dance floor.
He tugged me closer to him as he cut through the crowded dance floor, leading the way towards the bar. When we had made it halfway across the hall, he glanced back to check on me.
It was at that exact instant that someone barged into me from behind, forcing me to stumble forward. My heel rolled and I lost my footing.
One second, I was falling face-first towards the ground. The next, I felt his rigid arms lock around my ribcage and catch me, mid-air.
“You ok?” he asked without releasing me from his grip. We were close…close enough that I could feel the brick wall of his chest, the ripples of his abs, and the heavy beating of his heart through his swollen pecs.
My eyes fluttered up to the forest of stubble that grazed his cheeks and the overgrown brown hair tucked behind his ear. His bright grey eyes were burning a hole straight into me, and once my head stopped spinning I realized that the swirling feeling in my stomach had spread to my pussy.
I felt like a jolt of fiery hot air had been blown into my body, and I needed my own personal fireman to come to the rescue and keep that blaze at bay.
No, I reminded myself. I don’t need anyone to rescue me. Especially not some fireman...
“I’m fine,” I gulped. I pushed myself up onto my own two feet, but he kept his arms firmly around my waist.
I tested my weight on the heels of my stilettos, stepping slowly from one foot to the other, making sure that nothing -- my shoes, my ankles -- had gotten injured when I stumbled.
He swayed with me, mimicking my movements. And just like that, we were…dancing?
My eyes flicked up to him and I saw that he was smiling down at me.
“If you wanted to dance with me, you could have just asked,” he teased.
“I didn’t want--” I started to say, but then I stopped myself. I didn’t want him to let me go; I wasn’t done feeling his body against mine yet.
His hands slipped down my waist, locking around the small of my back. Electricity passed straight through his fingertips and into my bloodstream, pulsing towards the tangled knot of nerves between my legs.
“I’m not sleeping with you,” I blurted out.
His eyebrow shot up, but he didn’t say anything.
“I just mean that…” I stammered quickly, “I’m not falling for whatever this is.”
“What is this?” he smiled down at me as we swayed across the dancefloor.
“You know exactly what this is,” I said. “This little sexy fireman routine of yours.”
“Are you saying that you think I’m sexy?” his lips turned up into a crooked smirk, revealing the dimple in his chin.
Shit. My pussy clenched up into my stomach.
“No!” I glared. My hands slipped around him, grasping onto the firmness of his of waist through his shirt. “I’m saying that this charming hero routine isn’t going to make my panties burst into a ball of flames.”
His hands tightened around my waist and leaned down, so his lips were grazing my ear.
“For someone that’s so sure of herself,” he whispered, “You sure do spend a lot of time trying to convince people of things you don’t want to do…”
Red-hot heat flooded my body, and I wasn’t sure if I was feeling defensive…or just turned on.
“You want to know what I think?” he asked. His breath spread heat over the back of my neck.
“No,” I told him, even though my hands were wrapping tighter around him, exploring the shape of his torso through the thin white dress shirt…
He chuckled.
“I think that instead of trying to prove a point all the time,” he whispered, “You should just do what makes you happy.”
His hands slipped lower, tracing the curve of my hips and then sinking into the soft flesh of my ass.
“You think you could make me happy?” I asked breathlessly. Even as the words fluttered out of my mouth, I wasn’t sure if it was a challenge or an invitation…
“You have no idea, the things that I could do to you…” his hot breath pounded into my ear. The words sent shockwaves down my spine. My knees went weak and I melted deeper into his arms.
“I bet you don’t know the first thing about pleasing a woman,” I tried to scoff, but instead of sounding incredulous, the words sounded…curious.
“There’s only one way to find that out…” he smirked. Even in the dark reception hall, his eyes were sharp and grey.
“So, prove it then…” I dared him in a whisper.
He responded instantly. His hand slid down my hips, locating the slit in my skirt that opened to bare thigh. He slipped his fingers under the fabric and cradled the back of my thigh, tracing back up until he had clenched his fingertips into my ass.
I gasped and my hips jutted forward, crashing into his pelvis. Through the fabric that separated our bodies, I could feel the rigid protrusion of his shaft driving into me.
He made the first move. And then I countered it: I gripped onto the back of his neck and pulled his face towards mine.
Our lips crashed together just as his fingers slipped under my panties and swirled around in the wet, sticky mess that I had made. He bit my lips, swallowing my gasp. And then he led me off of the dance floor...