SEVENTEEN
GWYNETH
Dylan found the perfect spot in my favorite park. He insisted we take the lunch back to my side of town, and there was no arguing with him about it. So after the twenty-five-minute drive, I had him follow me to the park not too far from my apartment.
After parking, I watched Dylan get out of his SUV through my rearview mirror, and with each step he took toward me, I asked myself over and over again what I was doing.
I was playing with fire, and I was definitely going to get burned.
Even knowing the truth, I still got out of the car.
Dylan stopped in front of me, his butterfly-inducing smile plastered all over his handsome face.
“Like what you see?” he asked, catching me staring at him.
Ignoring his question, I turned and reached for my purse before closing my car door.
“Shall we?” he asked, holding his arm out for me to take.
I stared at it, took a deep breath, and then slipped my hand through, my fingers curling around his bicep.
We sat under an oak tree, the large branches shading us from the sun. I nibbled on a piece of cheese and basked in the beautiful weather.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a picnic in the park before,” he said.
He was across from me, lying on his side, resting on his forearm. He had one long leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee. He was picking off pieces of the French bread I’d packed and shoving them into his mouth.
I watched the way his lips moved, the way his teeth sank into it with each bite, and I felt my skin getting flushed.
How did he make eating a piece of bread the most exotic thing I’d ever seen?
“My sister and I used to have picnics before she got sick,” I whispered, my eyes finding the piece of cheese between my fingers. “After she got sick, my father would bring us on her good days, and then when her bad days became every day, we’d have them inside by the window.” I sighed at the memories tearing at my heart. “Now, I have them whenever missing her becomes too hard to bear.”
Silence followed in the next few seconds, and when I finally braved a look at Dylan, he was watching me with intense eyes. I half expected him not to pay me any attention or look annoyed the way Mitchell would get when I found myself getting upset over the past. But none of that existed behind his dark eyelashes.
“I’m sorry about your sister, Gwyn. Sounds like you guys were close.”
I nodded, swiping at a lone tear that had managed to escape. “We were. Very much so. My father and I, we loved her with everything we had.”
“And your mother?”
My body stiffened at the mention of my mother, and the tears trying to escape my lids for my sister dried immediately. Just the mention of my mother sent an explosive heat through my body, singing away the ends of my emotions.
I never talked about her.
I never even really thought about her. Except for the occasional thought that I never wanted to be like her, but when Dylan asked, instead of telling him I didn’t want to talk about it, I opened my mouth and words I had never expressed before flew out.
“My mother didn’t love anyone but herself. She made that perfectly clear when she left us for another man.” I didn’t recognize my own voice, and I looked up at Dylan. He just sat there, unjudging of my anger. “How does a mother do that? She wasn’t even there to hold my sister when she took her last breath.”
“Have you spoken to her since? Has she tried to reach out?”
“Not once. Not one time since she left us.” My words felt too thick and raw, making me clear my throat. “I hate my mother.”
And I did.
What kind of woman would leave the side of her dying daughter’s hospital bed to sneak around with another man?
What kind of woman left a grieving man’s side for another man?
If she wanted to leave, she could have waited, but no. She left her dying daughter. She left her crying husband. And she left me, her other daughter who was trying to hold it all together.
Yes.
I despised her, but hating her meant I had to hate myself a little, too, and I wasn’t sure I could do that. I felt guilty, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel like I deserved a little something more than what I was settling for.
Maybe I was selfish.
Maybe I was sort of like my mother, but I could never do what she did. I could never leave my dying child behind. Sure, I’d kissed Dylan—and God knows I enjoyed every second of that kiss—but that didn’t make me her.
“That’s understandable,” he said, reaching out for my hand and caressing my knuckles. “What she did is pretty unforgivable.”
I took a deep breath. “It is. When Alexis, my sister, was dying in bed, she left her and went to sneak around with a man who she’d met in the hospital. And the week before my sister died, she left my father’s side and never came back.
“Only a terrible person would do such a thing. She was cheating on us during a time when we both needed her. During a time when should she have been so heartbroken that she needed us, as well. I’ll never forgive her, but I have to learn to let it go. I don’t want her haunting my future or my past.”
I could hardly believe I was opening up to him in a way I never had with Mitchell. Mitchell knew the details behind the story of my mother, but he’d never thought to ask about my feelings about it. Not that Dylan had asked, but the soothing way he was softly caressing my fingers, I knew it was his way of saying it was okay to talk to him.
So I did.
“I guess that makes me a terrible person, too,” I said, finally acknowledging the kiss between us after the gala.
His brows pulled in, in confusion. “How so?”
I looked away, squashing the piece of cheese between my two fingers. “I cheated on Mitchell with you.”
Guilt swallowed me whole, choking me and making me feel like a terrible person.
He sat up, pulling on my hand until I was close enough for him to look me in the eye.
“That was a kiss, Gwyn. It was wrong, but it was right. I know I should apologize, but I’m not going to. I enjoyed it way too much, and I won’t lie and say I hope it never happens again.”
I couldn’t believe he was saying these things to me. I couldn’t believe this was my life.
I opened my mouth to respond, but just as I was about to, Mitchell stepped up behind Dylan.
“Mitchell,” I said, surprised to see him standing there with us.
Dylan sat up and rested his forearms on his knees. “Hey, man, what’s up?”
He was so calm. Like we weren’t just sitting there talking about kissing behind my fiancé’s back. Like he wasn’t just telling me he wanted to kiss me again.
“I had a meeting over on this side and saw your car parked across the street. I thought I’d stop over and see how things were going.”
He was looking at Dylan as he said these words, not once looking at me or responding to me.
What was his problem?
Did he know what I had done?
“Have a seat with us. We were just enjoying a picnic. We ran into each other earlier, and I figured—”
“No, it’s fine. I just ate,” Mitchell said, cutting me off rudely. “I’m glad I ran into you, though. I was going to call you and let you know I’ll be working all afternoon and late into the night.”
I sat up straighter.
We had a dress fitting today, and he had promised he would be there with me since all my girls were busy doing other things like working. Sure, they would have taken the time away to be there for me, but I assured them it wasn’t necessary. I wasn’t one to enjoy being the center of attention.
“But we have a dress fitting appointment in two hours,” I reminded him, sure that it had probably just slipped his mind.
Mitchell was a busy guy, and I could understand things being forgotten.
“Actually, hon, do you think Rift could go with you? If he’s up for it, of course. I can’t make it. I’m sorry.”
“You’re not serious, Mitchell? I thought we decided we’d go to the dress fitting together. I didn’t invite any of my bridesmaids because you said you wanted to be there with me!”
I was irate.
Why was he constantly pawning me off on Dylan?
It was like he really wanted nothing to do with me, yet we were getting married. None of it made any sense to me.
“Gwyn, sweetie, they say it’s bad luck for the groom to see his bride in her wedding dress before the wedding. And the more I thought about it, the more I decided I didn’t want to take any chances with what we have.” He turned his attention toward Dylan. “What do you say, man, are you up for it?”
“No.” I spoke up. “Dylan, you don’t have to do that.”
Mitchell’s expression changed to one of confusion. “Dylan?”
“Yes, that’s his name. You know that.”
“Of course. I just didn’t realize you did.”
During our exchange, Dylan said nothing. He just sat there with a grin on his face, watching as we went back and forth. Finally, he spoke.
“I’ll go,” he said.
My attention swung his way.
“Excuse me?”
He wasn’t serious.
After what had happened between us, I wasn’t about to go with him to try on my wedding dress.
It was wrong.
It was beyond wrong, but before I could speak up again, Mitchell patted Dylan on the shoulder.
“Great. Thanks, man.” He turned my way and patted me sweetly on top of my head. “I’ll see you later, okay, babe.”
And then he turned and walked away, leaving me with my mouth hanging open in shock at how easily he had disregarded my feelings and what I wanted.
It was then I realized I really didn’t know the man I was about to marry at all. I didn’t know anything about anything anymore.
“Did he just pat my head?”
Yep, the fucker did. “It’s okay, Gwyn. I don’t mind.” He touched my arm, but I jerked it back, turning to glare in his direction.
“Well, I do mind.” I started packing up the food. “He can’t keep throwing me at you like this.”
“But I like it. I like spending time with you, Gwyn. I like how you make me feel when we’re together.” His hand covered mine, stopping my jerky movements.
God, why did he keep doing this to me? And why did I continue to let him?
“I can’t keep doing this, Dylan. You can’t keep saying things like that to me, and I can’t keep letting you. I’m sorry, but I’m engaged to your best friend, and we both need to remember that.”
I just grabbed what remained of the picnic, packed it up, and started toward my car. When I got inside my car, I saw Dylan leaning against the tree we had just been sitting under and looking over at me.
He lifted his hand and waved, but instead of waving back, I left.
Two hours later, after convincing myself I should just go and make sure my dress fit, I found Dylan sitting outside the bridal salon waiting for me.
He was leaning against the brick wall with his hands in his pockets and the darkest pair of shades I’d ever seen covering his eyes. Even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I knew he was watching me as I made my way across the street and over to him.
“You shouldn’t have come,” I said as soon as I was close enough for him to hear me. “If you leave now, you can still salvage your afternoon. I can’t imagine many men in this world who would enjoy a dress fitting.”
Pulling his shades from his face, he hooked them on the collar of his shirt. “I said I’d be here, and I’m here. I never back out on a promise. Now get your ass in there and let’s try on a dress.”
My dress was waiting for me when I get inside, and Dylan lifted it from the hanger and followed me to the other side of the bridal salon.
“This weighs a ton. Are you sure you’re going to be able to stand in this thing?”
I laughed. “Yes.”
He held out the dress still zipped inside its plastic, and I took it. The weight of the expensive dress felt almost as heavy as the weight of my impending nuptials on my chest.
Once inside the dressing room, I hooked the dress on the hanger attached to the wall and set my purse on the bench in front of me. My breathing felt forced, as if something inside was squeezing my lungs.
I’d picked the dress out with happiness.
My father had paid for the dress with happiness.
Yet I dreaded trying the damn thing on.
It was beautiful. A mermaid fit and flare that hugged my waist and hips with a perfect strapless sweetheart neckline, but even though it was magnificent to look at, my heart just wasn’t in it anymore.
If Mitchell didn’t turn things around, I would have to walk away from him. As much as it hurt me to disappoint my father, I couldn’t trap myself in a loveless, unexciting marriage with a man who had no desire whatsoever to spend time with me, much less be intimate with me.
I reached down for the hem of my blouse and pulled it over my head, my senses heightened by the lack of touch. My skin pebbled as the silk fabric of my blouse slid across my flesh. My breasts felt heavy and aching inside my bra, my nipples hard and pressing into the padding of my push-up cups.
Hanging my blouse on the other available hanger, I let my eyes move over my body in the tall mirror in front of me. I tried to envision what I looked like from Mitchell’s point of view.
Was I so disgusting that he no longer found me attractive?
I had been working a lot and spending a lot of time at the hospital. I had lost weight, and my figure wasn’t as curvy and vivacious as it was when we first met.
Maybe that was why he never touched me anymore?
Sliding my slacks down my legs, I folded them in my arms and set them on the bench beside my purse. Again, I let my eyes move over my body, taking in the expensive panties and bra I purchased recently in hopes of drawing Mitchell’s attention.
I wasn’t happy with what I was looking at. I’d always been relatively confident, but something had changed in the past six months, and I knew that something was Mitchell.
I reached out to unzip the plastic holding my wedding dress, but just as I did, the door to the dressing room flew open, and Dylan stood there looking back at me.
His eyes were wide with shock, as if he hadn’t expected me to be behind the door, and then they dropped from my face and slid down my body in an invisible caress.
I should have covered myself; I should have screamed at him to get out, but I didn’t move or tell him to go. The way he was looking at me, I needed that. I needed to feel beautiful and desirable.
“What are you doing here?” I watched him, his eyes a stormy blue.
His eyes devoured me, making me feel uncomfortable. If Mitchell supposedly loved me and disliked what he saw when he looked at me, then surely a man who didn’t love me would see me as even worse.
“The lady out front said the bathroom was the last door on the right, but I’m guessing she meant the last door on the left,” he said, not bothering to the hide the fact that he was looking at my body.
I nodded, not sure what to say.
“I should apologize and turn around and leave.”
I swallowed hard.
He didn’t leave.
Instead, he moved into the room and quietly shut the door behind him.
“But you see, there’s a problem.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
He reached out, running a single finger over my shoulder and down across my chest. “I can’t stop looking at you.”
I folded my arms across my chest now, feeling more exposed than I ever had in my life. His finger dipped into the top of my folded arms and between my breasts.
“You’re covering yourself like a woman who thinks she’s unattractive,” he said, moving close enough that his whispered words ruffled the hairs on the side of my face. “But the truth is, my cock’s hard just looking at you.”
I stiffened at his words.
No one had ever spoken to me like that. No man had ever been so brazen, saying naughty words to me in such a manner.
“How does that make you feel, Gwyn?” He moved closer, his lips skimming my earlobe and making me bite my bottom lip.
I should have run out, but I was half naked. And the truth was, I couldn’t move. My legs were stiff, and my feet were rooted to the spot.
“How does it make you feel knowing my cock is hard and throbbing for you?” He licked my lobe, and I shivered. “Here you are, in your white bra and panties, looking so innocent and corruptible ... what’s an evil man like me supposed to do?”
“You’re not evil,” I said, finally able to speak up.
My voice squeaked with my words, making me blush even harder.
He leaned back, his brow lifting in question. “You don’t think I’m evil?”
I shook my head. “Not even a little bit.”
“I assure you I am.” Again, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against my shoulder.
As if an automatic reflex, I tilted my head to the side to give him more skin to explore.
“I’m jealous of the way the lace on your panties is riding up your curvy hips and disappearing into the sweet space between your thighs.” He kissed my shoulder once again, his breath striking the side of my neck and filling my ear. “I want to be that lace, Gwyn. I want to be resting inside your warmth.”
Dear God, he was good, and I was so very bad. I should have pushed him away. I was supposed to be trying on my wedding dress, for crying out loud. Not being seduced in the dressing room by my fiancé’s best man. I wasn’t supposed to be being kissed by who was probably the sexiest man in the state of Georgia.
But the truth was, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t push him away no matter how guilty I felt because the pleasure I felt was so much more powerful than the guilt.
I should have been mad at him for barging into my dressing room and saying all the right things, but I couldn’t even get upset about it. It was as if fate had pulled him into the room, so he could say just the right things at the right time.
There I was, feeling like total crap about myself. Thinking I was unattractive and unsure about my physical appearance, when he came in and made it all go away.
I was positively glowing from his words, feeling sexy in my new bra and panties. Mitchell might not have looked at me while I was wearing them, but Dylan was. And with the look in his eyes as he slowly devoured every inch of my exposed skin, I had to admit, the matching set was money well spent.
“Say something,” he said, his lips sliding up my neck and over the curve of my jaw. “Ask me to fuck you up against the virginal white fabric of your wedding gown. Tell me you want me inside you, Gwyn.”
I didn’t say what he wanted me to say—even though I was screaming it inside—but he didn’t wait for me to say anything. Instead, he moved his lips to mine and kissed me hard.
He turned me, pressing my back against the cold wall across from the mirror. And when he lifted me, I wrapped my legs around his waist and let him push his hardness into my wet center. My lacy panties pressed into me as he thrust himself into me, stroking my sensitive skin and making me pant in desire.
He pulled away and nipped at my top lip. His eyes drilled into mine as he pushed up with his hips and into me once more.
“All I have to do is pull my dick out and slide those soaking panties to the side and I’m inside you. Is that what you want?” he asked.
I bit my bottom lip and nodded my answer.
I’d never felt something so good, and he wasn’t even naked.
His mouth was on mine once more, tasting me and sucking at my tongue in a way I had never been kissed before.
Then he broke our kiss again, moving his lips down over my chin and past my neck until he was tugging my bra down and covering my hard nipple with his hot mouth.
“Oh God,” I whispered, feeling like I was seconds away from exploding.
My eyes popped open when he bit my nipple and when they did, I was looking at myself in the mirror across from us.
The blush on my cheeks.
The sheen of passion and sweat on my skin.
Then the light hit the diamond on my finger, and the reflection of it in the mirror flashed across my face, shocking me.
Who was the girl in the mirror?
It was like I was looking at someone else entirely.
It was like I was looking at my mother.
That realization was like a slap in the face with ice-cold water. I pushed at his shoulders and pulled back.
“Stop,” I said, struggling in his hold. “Dylan, please stop. I can’t do this.”
He looked at me, his blue eyes blazing with desire and his plump lips swollen from my kisses.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
And without thinking, I said the exact thing I was thinking.
“I don’t want to be like her. I can’t be like her.”
His eyes went wide at my words, and he set me down, backing away until his back was pressed against the mirror and he was blocking me from my reflection.
After our talk at the park, I didn’t need to go into detail. He knew I was talking about my mother, and he understood how much I hated her and never wanted to be like her.
Without saying another thing, he opened the dressing room door and left me standing there half naked and feeling ashamed of myself.
It wasn’t until he was gone that I looked in the mirror again. I hadn’t even realized it, but I had tears running down my face. I was a mess. A mess falling for my fiancé’s best man.