Chapter 6

With my shoes and my skirt bundled up in my left hand, I took Christian’s hand with my right and let him haul me out of the car. I gingerly crossed the dirt yard and followed him through the doorway. The inside of the cabin wasn’t as bad as Christian had been threatening. It was a little dusty and sparse, but it was country cute and appeared to be used on a regular basis. There was lots of oak and floral patterns. It had a small kitchen, seating area, and a queen-size bed with a brass headboard. A decorative pillow propped against the regular pillows read Cabin Life.

Christian seemed surprised that it was in as good a shape as it was. “I didn’t know anyone ever came here, to be honest,” he said. “I mean, not since we were kids. Then in high school Cain and I used to bring girls here.”

That made me give him a rueful look. “So nothing has changed?” I bent over, holding on to the small kitchen table, and slipped my shoes back on. My dress was too long without their height.

He just grinned and started poking around, looking in cupboards. “Guess not. But it seems someone in my family has a secret, because this looks clean and in use. Make yourself at home. I’ll go get your bag out of the car.”

My God, what was I doing? This was so far removed from what was supposed to be happening today that it was surreal. Mind-boggling. As Christian went back out the front door I paced the small cabin in my heels and chewed my lip. I had to call Bradley. I owed it to him to speak to him even though my stomach said be a coward and just ghost him.

I took a deep breath and looked at my phone.

Where the hell are you?

That was from my mother.

Get your ass to this church right now.

That was Bradley.

My gut tightened. Closing my eyes, I set the phone on the table, called Bradley, and put it on speaker. I didn’t want to hear his voice in my ear.

“Bella, sweetheart,” he said, voice sounding muffled. “Whatever is going on with you, let’s deal with it tomorrow. Come back here and let’s get married. I’ll just tell people you weren’t feeling good. We’ll only be an hour behind schedule.”

That feeling like I couldn’t breathe came back full force. “Bradley, I can’t marry you. I can’t just be okay with you sleeping with other women. I just can’t live like that.”

There was a pause, then he spoke. “So you decided to wait until thirty minutes before our wedding to tell me that?” His tone shifted, grew disgusted. “That’s not bitchy at all.”

At first I thought I deserved that, then I realized he was the one who had shit on our relationship. “I just found out literally days ago! It’s a lot to process so soon before our wedding. And I’m glad I found out. I can’t believe I’ve been stupid enough not to see what you were capable of.”

“Well, you’re not the smartest girl I’ve ever met, that’s for sure. But you are supposed to be the nice girl, Bel. Not the fucking cunt who bails on our wedding.”

His words shocked me. I had never heard him talk like that in our four years together, and it became completely obvious that I didn’t really know Bradley at all. He had shown me what he wanted to so I would marry him and be his corporate wife, his eye candy.

I didn’t know if I could even believe he actually loved me.

Christian came back in and heard Bradley’s words. He gave a snort of derision.

But I barely even noticed because I was so ticked off at Bradley. Who says something like that to the woman they were planning on marrying? I tried to think of a scathing response, but I’m not good at the burn. I never have been. I always default to something generic that winds up sounding tepid and nothing like the internal rage or upset I’m experiencing.

“You…you are such a jerk!”

There it was again. That was not exactly going to cut him.

Exasperated, I reached out and tapped the button to end the call. Hanging up on him was at least something. “Argh!” I started to scroll through my texts, but there were too many.

Some were concerned, like Kennedy and Soph, but others were abrasive, accusatory. Bradley’s mother gave a more polite version of what he had said. My mother sounded at first worried, then frantic, then just flat-out pissed off. The wedding planner had called four times.

Christian was watching me, having set my bag down on the kitchen countertop. “You okay?” he asked.

I tucked my phone into the pocket of the overnight bag and gave him a brilliant, if somewhat hysterical, smile. I had gone from sad and upset to mad as hell. “I’m fine. I can tell you now I don’t feel as guilty over leaving as I did. Bradley is a creep.” And I was a fool. But we would take that thought out and dust it off and dissect it later. Right now I couldn’t deal with it.

I just needed to shed this gown and be distracted.

By a hot guy like Christian.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty. And I think creep is understating it.” Christian came over and cupped my cheek with his rough hand. His pale blue eyes searched my face. “You’re a very sweet girl, do you know that?”

“Thank you,” I murmured, because I felt like he meant it as a compliment, not a slam.

Then he kissed me. It was a soft, light kiss, a teasing brush of his lips over mine. It was a whisper. Like he was afraid to startle me or break me.

The numbness I had been feeling, then the white-hot anger, both faded. I felt an eerie sense of calm settle over me. Christian’s kiss was like warm honey, slow and sweet. I sighed, feeling relief. Just pure and instant relief.

“It’s like I just lost ten pounds of worry,” I said. “I had no idea how stressed I was.” Well, I had. I just hadn’t realized how amazing it would feel to make a decision to move on. “I feel like I just saved myself from the devil. That sounds so dramatic, but it’s true.”

“Let me rub your shoulders. Sit down at the table.”

I stared at Christian, unsure. “Is that like a code for something kinky?” I needed buildup. Yes, I had flirted with Christian, indicated I wanted to have sex with him, and I did. But maybe not right now.

He let out a crack of laughter. “What? My God, we need to get you the Urban Dictionary app. No, that’s not a code for sex. I’m going to massage the tension out of your shoulders. Sit down.” He pushed me toward the table.

“Really?” I was touched. In my experience men liked to receive massages, not give them. And usually they wanted their head rubbed, as in their penis, not their shoulders.

I sat down, crushing the back of my dress. Not that it mattered. If I didn’t think it had resale value I would set the thing on fire. But my father had paid some serious money for it and I could post it for sale online. So I smoothed the skirt and tried not to fantasize about burning it in a blazing bonfire while I danced naked around it.

Christian had firm, strong hands, yet he didn’t go in and just aggressively knead my muscles. His touch was slow, sensual. I sighed in pleasure. “That feels really good.” I could sense his body behind me, hear his breathing in the quiet cabin.

Another sigh escaped before I could stop it. I hadn’t realized how completely tense the muscles in my neck and shoulders were. They were like steel rods. He bent over and shifted my hair out of the way. When he kissed the back of my neck, I shivered, not from surprise, but because it felt good. For a second I thought he was going to drop his hands down onto my breasts, and I was shocked that I felt a sliver of excited anticipation. I didn’t feel nervous at all.

But he just kept massaging me until I felt like a limp noodle. My head was lobbing to the side.

My dress was the only thing preventing me from totally relaxing. It felt as suffocating as the idea of marrying Bradley had. The corset was crushing my rib cage and the skirt was heavy. “Can you help me take my dress off?” I murmured. “It’s really hot.”

“I would love to.”

I wasn’t trying to be seductive, but I wasn’t unaware of what it would imply. I liked the idea of Christian sweeping me off my feet, making me forget the reality of my life. Even if it wasn’t mind-blowing sex, it would serve its purpose. Yet I had mixed feelings about it. Like revenge sex, it wasn’t really my style.

But it shouldn’t be about Bradley. Nothing should be about Bradley anymore.

I stood up. I wasn’t nervous about Christian seeing me in my underwear. I wore very tiny bikinis on the beach and have decent body confidence. I should, after all the years of low carbs and Pilates and spray tanning. Not to mention ripping hair off where it wasn’t wanted and adding it where it was, with eyelash and hair extensions.

So when Christian started to unlace the corset on the back of my dress, I held the bodice against my breasts so it didn’t fall right away, not out of modesty, but because I couldn’t stand the thought of crushing the dress. I wanted to both destroy the gown and savor it. Maybe that was my life in a nutshell.

“It’s undone. Now what?” Christian said. “I feel like I have to haul you up and out of it or something.”

“It needs to come off over my head, not down my hips. You need to lift it up and over.” I raised my arms straight up.

Christian pulled from the neckline up, but it got stuck around my chin. “Ah,” I said. “Something’s wrong.”

He tugged harder, making me rock on my heels.

“What’s wrong is that this thing is tighter than a straitjacket. What the fuck, how were you even breathing?” Christian sounded genuinely bewildered. “I have to go from the bottom I think.”

He shifted and I felt him gathering the skirt from the hem, his hands brushing over my ankles and calves. He made a sound like he was spitting. “Holy shit, I think I just inhaled a rhinestone.”

I started to laugh, the fabric still enveloping my face. “Swarovski crystals, not rhinestones.” My voice was muffled behind the bodice. “Help, it’s getting hot in here!” Plus I definitely had the giggles from the pure ridiculousness of the whole situation. It was like being slaphappy.

Christian lifted the entire skirt up, gathering it around my waist. Fresh air wafted over my legs and my bare butt. I momentarily worried because I was wearing a thong and that was a teeny bit awkward, but there were gobs of fabric between his face and my ass so I didn’t think he could see a damn thing. I certainly couldn’t. His hands went under the fabric then, without warning, and slid up over my hips.

My laughter choked off. He went up, up, over the sides of my breasts, his forearms holding up the skirt of my dress. I shivered, but then his touch went higher, brushing my cheeks and ears as he lifted the bodice up off my head. The skirt dragged over my face, but the constriction of the corset being gone was a sweet relief. Another second and I was completely free, the only thing obstructing my view and breathing my disheveled hair. I brushed it back. “Oh geez, thanks.”

When I finally shook my hair fully out of my way and blinked, I turned around and held my hands out to take the dress. I wanted to drape it over the chair to preserve it as much as possible. But I forgot how to speak when I saw the look on Christian’s face. He had the dress in his hands but his eyes were on me. His nostrils were flaring, his eyes sweeping over me. He was backing up, taking slow steps away from me.

“What are you doing?” I asked. Was he running away from me? He looked turned on, but where the hell was he going? This was where I was a sexual failure. I couldn’t get a read on him.

“I’m stepping back to get a better view. I want to fully appreciate the perfection that I’m seeing.”

My breath hitched. “Oh.” I tried to think of something to say. I was such a good flirt generally speaking and good at receiving compliments. But I had dated guys who were respectful, sweet, charming. Well, at least they had pretended to be. Christian was so raw. He didn’t hide his lust. He let me see the full force of his desire. The hot, pulsing blaze of passion. It left me speechless and wet. At least my body knew what to do even if my brain didn’t.

I decided to treat the moment like a photo shoot for social media. Hand on hip, body slightly turned, one knee bent. Christian growled. It was an actual growl. He looked like he wanted to eat me. My face flamed, but damn it, I felt sexy. Appreciated. “Should I turn around in a circle?” I asked, finding my flirt. I used my hand to rake through my hair and shake it out over my shoulders.

“Only if you want to.”

I was just wearing a basic white lace thong and a strapless bra. My overnight bag had the slutty lingerie I had bought for the wedding night to tease and entice. But even though this was more functional than seductive I felt sexy. Not beautiful. Sexy. That was a fun and refreshing feeling. So I pivoted on my heels, making sure I followed through with my head over the shoulder. I laughed a little, because I felt so free.

Christian came toward me. Stalking me, really. I’d never seen that kind of an expression on a man’s face. It was so dominant, so base, so feral. I should have been scared, but it was actually arousing. My nipples hardened under my bra, goosebumps ran over my mostly bare skin. I had thought he would be gentle, coaxing me to a new sexual understanding.

Instead he put a hand under my butt and hauled me against him. We collided with a hard smack, then suddenly I was up in the air, head and hair coming forward over his shoulder. I was too startled to do anything other than gasp. Everything I had was rubbing against all of his hardness as he walked across the room. My chest was pressed into his shoulder, my clit brushing over his belt buckle. I even liked his arm under my ass. Crazy, just absolutely bizarre that I would enjoy being manhandled. It made me blush, which made my whole body warm. Especially there. A hot ache had settled deep into my pussy and I didn’t even know what to think or to do with that. I couldn’t believe I was even thinking of my vagina as a pussy. I never felt wild enough or in tune with it enough to use that term.

Then I was falling backward before I could have any further thoughts. I let out a shriek as I sailed through the air, scared. But I landed almost immediately with a soft thump on a mattress. I was splayed on the bed in the corner. I took a deep breath, my heart racing as I stared up at him. Christian moved over on top of me, but kept his weight off me. His arms were propped on either side of my chest and he bent down and kissed me.

Maybe I had dreamed that I had been kissed before. Maybe I had thought that’s what I’d been doing, but compared to this I had been wasting my time. Christian kissed me like there was nothing else in the entire world but this moment, my lips, and our hot breathing. It could have felt orchestrated, choreographed, too smooth. The kiss of a man who kissed a lot of women. But it wasn’t that. It was wild, uncontrolled, aggressive.

Like he wanted me so much nothing could stop him.

By nature, I’m a worrier. It’s because of my expectation of perfection. Of an idealized version of reality. Perpetual rose-colored glasses, yes. But a worrier too, fixing this and that and tweaking and posing and planning. I didn’t know how to let go. How to get swept away by passion. Sweaty, dirty sex.

And it wasn’t going to happen now either and Christian knew it.

Sure, I kissed him back, and yes, it felt good. But I was anxious and he was experienced enough to sense it. He pulled back and smiled at me. “Why don’t you throw some clothes on and I’ll show you around the camp.”

I was disappointed with myself by how relieved that made me. “You don’t want to do this?” I asked, then inwardly winced. That sounded so pathetic.

“Oh, I do,” he assured me. He brushed a hand over my bra, then tapped the front of my lace panties, causing me to jerk. “This and the blinged-out heels? This isn’t you and me. We’re something else, but not this.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I thought every guy liked a woman in heels.”

Christian slid his hand down my thigh and calf, drawing goosebumps from me. He flipped off the heel of one shoe and removed it. “If you’re going to wear heels in bed for me, I want to pick them out.”

So he didn’t actually like that they were my bridal heels. Interesting. He wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended. Maybe he needed a minute removed from all this wedding business too. Not on the same level as me, but something that was our space, not the remnants of Bradley and me. He threw the shoe over his shoulder. “What’s in your little bag you brought? Something you can wear on a hike?”

“A hike?” I shivered when he removed my other Louboutin. “Do I look like a girl who goes hiking? I didn’t pack workout clothes.”

He snorted and went back on his knees. “I didn’t say a workout. Maybe I should rephrase that as something you can wear on a walk. Does that sound better? Less ominous?”

I nodded and reached my hand out so he could help me off the bed. “I sweat in a controlled environment. Pilates and hot yoga.”

“What the fuck is hot yoga?” Christian eyed me dubiously. He went over to the kitchen table and grabbed my overnight bag. He brought it to me and I swung my legs over the side of the bed.

“What do you mean, what is it? It’s yoga. In a hot room. A hundred and five degrees. It releases toxins.”

He snorted. “If that’s what you want to believe.”

I took the bag from him. “Don’t make fun of me. It’s true. It’s also how I have long and lean muscles. I work really hard at it.”

“And I’m very grateful for that.”

He stood there watching me as I dug out a regular bra and panties and my sundress. “Do you mind?” I asked, ready to unhook my bra.

“I don’t mind.”

I smacked him with the bra I was holding. “You know what I mean. Turn around.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Bella. You are almost completely naked. What difference does it make?”

“Almost is the key word. I’m shy.” It was true. Or maybe modest was a better word. A bikini all day long was fine. But I was not one to free the nipple. More power to those girls, but that was not me.

“You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute, because you’re also a lot of work.” But he winked, like he didn’t actually mean his words. He also turned around and went to inspect the fridge. “Hey, there’s wine in here. What the hell? Who is coming out to this cabin?”

I got quickly dressed and stood up. “I don’t know. Are you sure you still even own this place?” That was a horrifying thought. “OMG, what if we’re squatting and we don’t even know it?”

He laughed. “Wouldn’t be the most illegal thing I’ve ever done.”

“What?” I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. I pulled shoes out of my bag, dropped them on the floor, and set the bag down again on the table next to my phone, which was flooded with notifications. My chest tightened. What was I doing?

“I’m kidding. Kidding. The only illegal things I’ve done are speeding and fighting.”

That was a relief. “What if we’re doing it and someone shows up here? I would die. Literally die.”

“Doing it? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

I pointed a perfectly manicured finger at him. “Hey. Quit making fun of me.”

“But I’m so good at it.”

That made me laugh. “And I’m good at burping, but that doesn’t mean I should do it.”

“You’re good at burping? You? Lies. Complete lies.”

“No, it’s true. My mother thinks it’s horrifying and it is. But I don’t know. I have a lot of air in my stomach or something. I can burp the alphabet if I really want to.” Never in a million years would I have burped in front of Bradley. I wouldn’t even admit that I burped. Ever. Or had any bodily functions. But Christian was different. It didn’t matter. For all I said that I wanted him to educate me, I wasn’t trying to impress him. He’d already seen me get drunk on wine and jam at least two doughnuts into my mouth.

“Prove it.”

I eyed him. He was smiling at me. I wanted to show him I could be fun. Take a joke. “I need some soda and then I will.”

Christian laughed again. He had a great laugh. It was full and unadulterated. It sounded genuine. A booming, rich exaggeration of his deep voice. Everything about him was so inherently masculine. He had a way of moving that was just a shade off a swagger. He was also confident but not in the entitled arrogant way that Bradley was. It felt easy to be around Christian. He had said he wouldn’t judge me and I believed him.

“I’ll be waiting. I’ve got to hear this, princess.”

“You’re going to love it. I promise.” I had never bantered with a guy like this. Between being a runaway bride and the overall surreal quality of this day I felt light-headed, strange. Like I was having an out-of-body experience. Maybe that was why I hadn’t been ready for sex yet. I wanted to be in my body, in the moment.

“I believe you.” Christian opened the door. “After you.”

The sun was at its full height but the trees blocked a lot of the heat. It was a beautiful day. The air in Maine was crisp and clean and the sun-dappled clearing was the perfect temperature. My sandals weren’t great for the dirt drive, but I liked the freedom of wiggling my toes. I had chosen the sundress for the next day because it would travel well, but it was giving me the same experience now. Loose, relaxed. Much better than that constricting dress. I had left my phone inside. I couldn’t look at it.

“Have you always lived here, in Camden?” I asked Christian. Polite, that was me. But I was also curious about him.

“Yes. I don’t see myself ever leaving. No point.”

“Maybe I should stay here myself,” I said, anxiety pressing in on me again. “I can’t go back. Not now. I gave up my apartment. My job. Geez, that’s not very good.”

“Don’t worry about that right now. Your parents have a house. Two, actually, right? So you’re not going to be homeless. I bet even your sister would take you in.”

I took a deep breath as we walked. He was right. No need to press the panic button. “That’s true. But did you ever just stop all at once and wonder who the heck you are?”

“Princess, that’s just too damn deep for a summer day.”

My wedding day. But I couldn’t expect him to want to talk about that. So I went with a light response. “So you don’t want to go deep today?”

Of course I realized immediately how sexual that sounded. I hadn’t meant to imply anything of the kind, but there it was, hanging out there between us. My cheeks felt warm.

Christian gave me a sly, sexy smile. “Oh, I want to go deep. I want to go deep all damn day.”

“So which is it?” I asked, wanting to call him out just a little. “Deep or not?”

“So I have to get deep to get deep?”

I smiled at me. “Maybe.”

“Whatever you say, princess. Your wish is my command.”

If only fairy tales came true.