Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

JENSEN

T he way her hand feels wrapped around my arm.

Through my T-shirt, her soft palm radiates heat into my body as we walk the few paces down the short aisle.

She hasn't looked at me once this morning, not even at breakfast, and by the way she loosely links her arm with mine, I can tell she'd rather be anywhere but here.

I expected nightmares of that fateful day in the chapel to come roaring back the moment I stepped under the flower archway. But Lauren hasn't entered my head once. All I can think about is the stunning blonde right next to me.

"See, it's not so bad," I quip as we follow behind Zach and Luna.

"Your chance to walk with a princess," she replies, deadpan.

I snicker. That nickname really got to her. I'm like a teenage boy constantly looking to get a rise out of her.

And I like it. I can't help myself. Anything to get her attention, even if it's for her icy heart to hate on me just a little bit more.

"Does that make me your prince?"

She scoffs. "It begins with a p, but prince is definitely not the word I'd use to describe you."

We reach the end of the walk, and she whips away from me at record speed.

"Perfect?" I muse. Her lips shake. "Is that a smile I see?"

"Prick. That would be more apt."

I bark out a laugh. "Such a filthy mouth for royalty."

The way her cheeks flush makes my cock twitch. That's it, Katherine, flirt back; you know you want to.

"And wouldn't you love to find out?" she pats me on the shoulder mockingly. "But unfortunately for you, that ship has sailed, long, loooong ago."

I fight to hide my disappointment. I don't know exactly what I want from this girl, but I do know it involves her being naked.

I've never wanted that more with any other woman in my life.

But with each second that passes, the realization gets stronger; just fucking her might not be enough.

"You gonna eat that?" Zach points to the untouched wing on my plate.

I hold it out to him as we sit on the swinging chair at the end of the long, manicured English garden. The rest of the group is a good fifty yards away, sitting around patio furniture, drinking wine and laughing.

He takes it and immediately starts chowing down.

"This is romantic," I say, "You, me, the birds tweeting, you piling food into your face."

Zach stops mid-bite and looks over at me, shrugging his shoulders. "What? I worked up an appetite, that's all."

"I don't want to know."

"Trying for a baby is hard work, man." He throws me a wink. "I've had so much sex these past forty-eight hours, but when she's at that time of the month, you gotta take advantage."

"Nothing yet?"

He shrugs casually. "Nah. It'll happen, and meanwhile," he waggles his eyebrows at me, "I get to have a lot of fun. I've discovered positions I?—"

"Yeah, great," I say, cutting him off. "Jon is the oversharer. Don't you start."

Loud laughter filters down the garden, and I watch as Kate throws her head back, laughing. She's got her back to me as her long blonde hair cascades down the back of her chair.

As if she can sense my eyes on her, she turns over her shoulder and pins me with her blue eyes.

I hold her gaze, refusing to be the one to look away first.

She narrows hers at me in challenge, so I throw her a wink and take another sip of my beer.

Finally, she breaks first, turning back to the group and then leaning across to pick up the bottle of wine they've been sharing and refills her glass. She's had way too much already, and she'll be feeling it for the ceremony tomorrow.

I wonder what she'd do if I marched down there, snatched the bottle from her hands, and told her she's had enough?

Probably slap me.

Shit, why do I like the thought of that?

"Well, this is an engaging conversation and all, but I'm gonna go take care of my—hopefully pregnant—fiancée." Zach stands from the swing chair, the loss of his weight sending it right back. He turns to look at me and smirks, "You look cute. Like a scene from Mary Poppins or some shit."

I shake my head. I'm always the butt of their jokes. "Go fuck your woman."

"See you tomorrow bright and early."

"Sure."

Zach turns to walk away. "Hey."

"Yeah?" He turns back.

I jut my chin at the group. "Ask Kate to come over, will ya?"

He knits his brows together. "What, like being summoned to the principal?"

Fucking hell, don't put ideas in my head.

"I'm just trying to build some bridges for tomorrow."

He nods his head in understanding, but he doesn't look confident about my chances. "Alright, see you tomorrow."

Taking another sip of my beer, I swing on the floral chair. This shit's relaxing, and I wonder if I could fit one on my balcony.

I watch as Zach approaches Kate, tapping her on the shoulder. She turns to me, a scornful look on her face. After a few more words to Zach, she grabs her wine glass and stands from her chair.

Cracking my neck side to side, I watch as she casually strolls into the garden, one foot on each stepping stone. Her long, black jersey dress scoops down at the front. It accentuates her taller frame, even in flat sandals. My dick stirs.

I've genuinely never seen a more beautiful sight.

Stopping a couple of yards in front of me, she props one hand on her hip and waits for me to speak.

I drop my other leg to the ground and spread my thighs apart, leaning back fully in the chair. "Come sit. It's relaxing. You look like you could use some unwind time."

She remains silent but lifts a brow.

"Sit." I point to the empty space beside me, my beer bottle still in my hand.

"Excuse me?"

I lean forward, my elbows on my knees. My eyes never leave hers. "I said, sit."

Her mouth hangs open as she runs her tongue lightly along her bottom lip. Looking to the side, her wine glass still in hand, she focuses her attention back on me. "I don't fraternize with the enemy."

"Neither do I, Princess. But for you, I'll make an exception." I tap my hand on the cushioned seat next to me. "Come."

Hesitantly, she takes a seat. She tries to look relaxed, but I notice the way her skin pebbles along her bare arms. "Feeling bossy tonight?" she drawls, trying to sound unaffected when I know she's anything but.

I reach over and take the wine glass from her hand. Her peach lip gloss stains the rim of the glass, and on instinct, I bring it to my lips, placing my mouth exactly over where hers just was. Downing the rest of the drink in one gulp, I set the glass down on the ground next to me and turn to look at her. "Pinot. Nice."

"What?!" she screeches.

I chuckle and rest my arm along the back of the seat behind her. "You're way past tipsy. I'm doing your head a favor."

She hesitates for a second as her blue eyes, slightly glazed with the effects of the alcohol, fall to my mouth. "You have gloss on your lips."

Leaning forward, I smirk but never break our eye contact as I swipe my tongue along my bottom lip. Her gloss tastes how it looks: sweet, fruity, and just like her.

For the briefest of moments, she pins her lips between her teeth but releases them quickly and looks to the ground. "Zach said you wanted to talk about something, and I'm really tired, so can we make this quick?"

Jesus, she's hard work.

"Sure, Princess."

Her head whips up. "Don't call me that."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't get to call me nicknames."

I lower my arm from the back of the seat until my hand rests just behind her ass. I'm not touching her, but I see the way she responds to my proximity. "I'd still let you call me JJ despite being a bitch half the time."

She scoffs. "I have no idea who JJ is. He died eighteen months ago."

"Well, that's just not true, is it? I can see evidence of him on your cheeks."

She flushes further, and I can't help the smug laugh that leaves me.

"I hate you. You know that, right?"

I pick my beer up and take another sip. "No, you don't."

"Don't tell me how I can and can't feel!" Her frustration, combined with the booze, has her voice raising several octaves higher, and I notice as Jon's head whips around from where he is making out with Felicity at the bottom of the garden like a pair of teenagers.

I set my bottle back down and run a hand through my hair. She's still sitting forward on the chair, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. "Here's the thing, Princess. If I don't take charge of this situation between us and leave it all to you, then I fear we'll never actually fuck. And I can't have that." I don't know if it's the beers and wine I've had tonight, but I take a huge gamble and shift my hand to her left hip, teasing her skin through the thick, black fabric of her dress.

Her lips part at the contact, but she fights to keep her arms folded across her chest. "Go find a redhead," she spits.

My grip tightens slightly. "You've got no idea what you're talking about."

"Mmm-hmm, I think I do."

"Tell me, is this incessant need to always be right with everyone or just when it comes to me?"

She pins me with a glare. "You."

I can't wipe the shit-eating grin off my face. "Good answer."

A long stretch of silence passes between us before I speak again. "You haven't asked me to move my hand."

"I hadn't noticed it was there."

I laugh and catch the slight lift of her lips, too.

"You were never a one-night stand to me, Katherine."

Her brows shoot to her hairline. "I hate that name even more."

"I don't."

She shakes her head and looks up into the now fully darkened sky, clearly not wanting to make eye contact. "You had your chance, and you blew it. Then you set it alight when you hooked up with that brunette three weeks ago."

"Here's my dilemma. Whatever I tell you happened, you won't believe. You'll choose your fictional version of events. Because you're a spoiled brat like that."

I probably shouldn't have added the last bit. Shit.

She sucks on her teeth and looks at me, anger blazing in her eyes.

Fuck me, she's hot like this.

"Then why in the world would you want to sleep with a spoiled brat?"

With my hand still on her hip, I pull her toward me. It's only a couple of inches, but our thighs are almost touching. Leaning down to whisper in the shell of her ear, I decide to give it to her straight. I'm done playing games. "Because you aren't a brat. Because you aren't always right, and you know you aren't. Because you know, deep down, I didn't sleep with the redhead that night, and I didn't hook up with the brunette either. Why? Because you invade my thoughts and drive me to the point of insanity. I have to have you, Princess. Trouble is, once I do, I'm not sure I'll be able to stop. There's not a chance in hell you'd be a one-night stand—I've been fucking you in my dreams since the day you pulled on my jersey and sat yourself across my lap."