30. Elise

CHAPTER 30

Elise

I’m married. To Blake Wilder.

Wow.

I look up at him as we descend the courthouse steps, our fingers intertwined.

That is…just wow.

I feel a stupid, goofy grin on my face.

I know this isn’t traditional in any sense of the word, but it’s still kind of fun.

I like Blake. We have fun together. He makes me feel special and adored. We have amazing sex. He’s so much more underneath than I had initially thought. He’s kind and funny and sweet and he accepts me exactly as I am.

And now he’s my husband and if anyone thinks I’m not going to enjoy the hell out of that for as long as it lasts, they’re nuts.

Before we stepped outside, he posted a photo of our hands with our wedding rings to his social media with the simple caption, “Did a thing today.”

It’s already blowing up.

I don’t mean it’s getting some attention.

I mean, it is blowing up .

As we hit the bottom of the steps, Blake turns and bands an arm around my waist. “Come here.” He pulls me in for a kiss and snaps a selfie. His long arm makes the shot pretty great. I grin at it as he shows me.

“Oh my gosh, did you just get married?” A woman who can’t be more than twenty rushes up.

“We did,” I tell her, giving her a bright smile.

“I can take a photo for you,” she gushes.

“Amazing, thanks,” Blake says, turning over his phone.

The woman steps back. “Dip her and kiss her,” she instructs Blake.

“Yes, ma’am.” He grins at me just before he dips me back and gives me a deep kiss.

“Oh yes!” she squeals.

She gives us instructions for a few more poses, then says to me, “That dress is gorgeous .”

I beam at her. “Thank you.”

“She makes dresses like this,” Blake tells her.

The woman’s mouth drops open. “No! Oh wow! You should put some of these up on your social media or something!”

She’s right, I should.

“Here, do a few more,” she says. She gets me to pose alone and snaps a few photos that show off the wedding dress perfectly.

“These look amazing.” Blake peers over my shoulder. “God, you’re gorgeous, sugar.”

My heart swells. “Thanks.”

“You two are so cute,” the woman says with a hearts-in-her-eyes look.

But what’s especially funny is that it’s clear she has no idea who Blake is.

“Thank you for the photos,” I tell her.

“Of course! I hope you’re happy forever !” She waves to us as she moves off.

I keep my smile in place.

She’s so sweet. But that last word hit me hard.

I mean, I know this is short term. Of course it is. That’s been the plan all along. But I guess in the back of my mind maybe I’ve been thinking that even if we don’t stay married , because that would be crazy, Blake and I could still see each other.

But forever? Yeah, that’s not in the cards.

Even if I suddenly want it to be.

No, that’s just insane.

Blake is moving far away.

I’m entrenched in Chicago.

But more importantly, he doesn’t love me.

Even if I love him.

Oh, God, I’m in love with Blake .

My heart is suddenly racing and I suddenly grasp the obvious. I didn’t offer to marry Blake because we’re friends. I’m in love with him.

Houston, we have a fucking problem .

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, noticing that I’m still staring after her.

I look up at him and force a smile. “Yes. Of course. She was so nice.”

“She was. I have some amazing photos to share on social media.” He pulls me close and holds up his phone, scrolling through the shots so we can both see them. “We look good together.”

I can’t deny that. “We really do.”

I look like I’m in love. It’s written all over my face. I’m beaming. Glowing, even. It’s so damn obvious. How does Blake not see that?!

Maybe because he doesn’t want to see it.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asks, no idea I’m suddenly going through a massive existential crisis.

I’m definitely ready to get out of here. If I stay here any longer, or someone actually recognizes Blake, I’m going to panic a little bit.

I need time to regroup before tonight.

I give him a little smile. It’s not really our wedding night , but he has a game tonight, so getting home to bed won’t be until late. Me being at the game tonight as his wife was part of our plan. We’re hoping to get a bunch of attention, make it as real as we can by using the fans and team, maybe even the media, and get even more social media posts circulating about our impromptu marriage. And someone—probably a broken-hearted Blake Wilder female fan—will definitely research the legitimacy of our marriage license. Heidi won’t be able to argue with all of that proof.

Which now all feels very overwhelming. I need to pull myself together, and in order to do that, I need him to rip this wedding dress off of me. Hopefully, with his teeth.

“My place or yours?” I ask coyly, eager for the distraction.

Sex with Blake I know. It’s neutral territory, so to speak.

Being in love with him is new and fresh and scary as hell.

“Oh, yours,” he says. He takes my hand, but he’s typing on his phone with his opposite thumb. “That way you can change before the game. Can you take an Uber tonight?”

“Sure.” Taking a car service alone on my wedding night makes me feel like pouting, but it’s not really my wedding night .

Maybe if I tell myself that enough times my traitorous heart will get the message.

God, how could I go and fall in love with Blake?

I’m also starting to think the reason I had such conflicted feelings about Simon and Aidan exchanging words of love is because I love them as well.

I’m in love with three men and they see me as just a friend. A sexy sidekick.

This was not how any of this was supposed to play out.

None of them did anything wrong. This is on me. I’m the one who went and fell in love.

Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Blake looks up and down the street, spots the car he called for before our little photo session, and waves. The town car pulls over and he opens the back door for me.

I slide in, and when he’s closed the door, I expect him to turn to me, maybe lean over and kiss me. I’m even expecting some flirty words.

I need some flirty words.

Instead, he bends his head over his phone and presses some buttons, then he holds it up in front of his face.

I watch, confused, as the video call connects.

He grins. “Hey, Mom.”

Mom? Mom ?

Wait. What ? We can’t seriously be doing a video call with his parents right now.

“Blake! Hi honey! What are you doing?”

“I was hoping Dad was around. I have something to tell you guys.”

“Oh sure. Jerry!” she calls. “Blake’s on the phone! He wants to tell us some news!”

I’m dumbfounded.

Blake pushes another button. “Hang on. I’m connecting with Brooke and Gran too.”

I just watch. I have no idea what to do. I actually lean closer to the door, trying to stay out of the shot.

As two other faces on two additional screens pop up, Blake looks over at me, notices how far away I’m sitting, grins, and loops an arm around my waist. He hauls me closer, sliding me over the leather seat.

“What’s going on?” his mother asks. “Hi, Heidi. Hi, Brooke. I didn’t know we’d all be talking today. Who’s your friend?”

Damn it. She can see me.

I immediately shift out of view, a little panicked. I take a deep breath.

“I didn’t either,” Blake’s sister says. “Is everything okay? You combed your hair and trimmed your beard. Is there a funeral somewhere I don’t know about?”

“No funeral,” he tells them happily. “Just waiting for dad. I want to introduce you all to my friend .”

“Jerry!” his mom shouts again, louder this time. “Come on! Everyone’s waiting!”

“I’m coming!” I hear a man’s voice reply. “It’s Blake?”

“Yes!” his wife answers.

“Ask him why the hell my texts are filling up with my friends asking why I didn’t tell them my son got married!”

Blake’s mom and sister both gasp.

I can see the phone and notice that his grandmother doesn’t actually look surprised.

Blake chuckles. “You’re not getting texts?” he asks. I assume that’s directed to just…everyone.

They probably all have friends that follow the team. That would make sense.

“I haven’t checked,” his mother says.

“I just got out of the shower,” his sister tells them. “I haven’t looked either.”

Suddenly, a man’s face pops into the screen with Blake’s mom. “What is going on?” he demands.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet someone.” Blake turns the phone so my face fills the screen. “Well, Gran’s met her. Everyone, this is Elise. My wife. Elise, this is my mom, my dad, and my sister. You know Gran.”

There is dead silence on the other end of the phone for about five seconds.

I swallow and smile. Then lift my hand in a little wave. “Hi.”

Then they all start talking at once.

Except for Gran.

She waits until the, “What?”, “How long have you not told me you have a girlfriend?”, “Oh my God!”, “But what about a wedding ceremony?”, “You have to bring her home, no we’ll come there, omg Jerry, we have to go to Chicago!” to die down.

I have no idea what to say or do, so I just sit, my hand squeezing Blake’s huge, hard thigh, and try not to feel guilty as hell.

Finally, Gran says, “So, this is a surprise. I figured you’d do it this summer after your retirement. At the cabin. Like. We. Discussed.”

Blake, smooth as top shelf whiskey, tightens his arm around me, smiles, and says, “It was all that talk about getting married at the cabin that got us talking.” He looks down at me, and damn, that look of adoration is pretty convincing. “We talked about plans and who we’d invite and what kind of flowers Elise likes best and all of that, and our minds just started spinning, and I was laying there in bed that night thinking, ‘why the hell are we waiting?’” He looks back at his family on the phone. “I’m in love. I want to be with her. She, thank God, feels the same way, so I said, ‘let’s do it now’ and she laughed and said, ‘you’re on’ and we went and got a license.”

That’s not at all how it went, but I find myself loving the story. It sounds like us. It’s sweet and fun and part of me wishes it was our story.

I squeeze his thigh, and he leans over and kisses my temple.

I’m melting like chocolate in the sun under his touch.

When I look at the phone again, they’re all looking at us with clearly convinced, happy expressions.

Even Gran.

“Well, this is…a surprise. But a lovely one,” Shelby says. “Elise, we can’t wait to get to know you better. But…welcome to the family.”

I’m able to give her a genuine smile now. They are sweet. I’m looking forward to meeting them too.

But then it hits me—it would really be better if I didn’t. I don’t want to get attached. I don’t want to really hit it off with them. When we call this off, I don’t want to imagine their disappointed, maybe even angry, faces.

“Me, too,” I say, weakly.

“Okay, we have to go,” Blake says. “I have to get ready for the game. But it’s going to be all over by then and I didn’t want you in the dark.”

“Thank you for that,” his father says dryly. “So thoughtful. Even if a text before the pictures went up would have been appreciated.”

Blake laughs. “I’ll send you photos that no one else has seen yet.”

“You’d better!” his mom and sister say in unison.

“I love you guys,” Blake tells them, then laughingly disconnects before they can say anything else.

He looks down at me. He seems happy. Content.

“So, that’s my family.”

“They seem great.”

“They are,” he agrees.

“A little warning would have been nice.” I press a hand to my stomach. “Do you think they believed us?”

“Yes. And…” He clears his throat. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“I guess…being you. Going along with this.” He frowns. “I do hate lying to them.”

I nod. “I don’t even know them and I hate lying to them.” I feel trepidation swoop through my belly. “It will be okay though. This is still the best way to handle this, right?”

He shrugs. “Too late now. We did it.”

Yeah. We did it. For real. Whether we intend “til death do us part” or not, we are actually legally married.

Actually, I know he doesn’t intend forever. That is just my wishful thinking.

I don’t want this to feel like a mistake.

It’s not Blake’s fault it took us getting married for me to recognize that I truly love him. The last thing in the world I want to do is make him feel trapped in our relationship because I went and caught feelings.

I’m going to keep my mouth shut and enjoy whatever time I have left with Blake.

He squeezes my knee, but it doesn’t feel sexual. It feels a little reassuring, mostly absent-minded. He’s looking at his phone again.

My own phone is missing.

I was late getting ready for our appointment at the courthouse and I couldn’t find it so I just left without it, trusting Blake would handle everything.

On the one hand, I’m glad I don’t have it, because I’m not sure I could deal with dozens of notifications and news spreads on social media. But at the same time, my phone always gives me an excuse to mindlessly scroll and not have to just sit in a town car in my feelings while my legal, but fake husband, ignores me.

I adjust the bodice on my dress. My tits look great, but I didn’t lift my skirt enough when I sat down and now the dress is dragging toward my stomach, exposing quite a bit of cleavage.

Blake makes a sound in the back of his throat.

A glance over shows he’s noticed all the bouncing and adjusting. His eyes are narrowed, his hand scrubbing over his beard.

Oh, I know that look.

I give him a flirty smile. “See something you like?”

He nods, slowly. “My gorgeous wife, that’s what I see.”

Wife.

There is so much in that sentence, it makes my heart ache. I sigh and lean into him. “Do you think married sex is better than single sex?”

“We’re about to find out.”

Fortunately, when we get to Books and Buns, Luna is in the kitchen and Lydia is busy with a customer, so Blake just drags me past everyone and up the stairs. When he turns the knob and realizes I left my apartment unlocked, he gives me a stern look.

“It was an accident!” I say before he can lecture me. “I was in a hurry.”

I don’t mention I probably forget to lock my door once a week. It will give Blake a heart attack.

But I’ve managed to survive twenty-eight years without him. I’ll survive without him again.

I hope.

Especially when he bends down and picks me up easily.

“What are you doing?” I laugh.

“Carrying you over the threshold. That’s still a thing, right?”

“I have no idea.”

Honestly, marriage has never been a goal of mine. I haven’t been planning a wedding in my mind since grade school like some women. I’ve always seen myself as someone who probably should live alone, even if I’m in a serious relationship.

My three guys have challenged that viewpoint.

And I’m not going to say I don’t gleefully enjoy having a hulking hockey player carry me into my apartment like it’s no big deal.

He kicks the door shut with his foot behind us and that slam sends a jolt of heat straight through my thighs. I cling to him, arms around his neck.

“You’re going to fuck me so hard, aren’t you?”

I want that. Hell, I need that.

Blake clearly has something else in mind. He sets me down, slowly, so that all of my body slides down his, my chest pressed against his, his erection presses against my belly. When I’m on my tiptoes, he stares down at me, gaze sweeping over my features, as if he’s memorizing them.

His hand sweeps into my hair and one by one removes the bobby pins that are holding my victory rolls in place. He lets them tumble to the floor, still not speaking.

It feels like time is standing still.

Our eyes are locked on each other and I feel very, very vulnerable.

Afraid he can see what I’m feeling, I try to distract him by kissing him.

I’m going for urgent. Hard, nipping presses of my lips on his, encouraging him to move faster as I wrap my thigh around his and grind myself against his hard cock.

But he slows me down. He cups my cheeks and presses a kiss to the corners of my mouth and runs his thumbs across my jawline. He kisses my nose, my eyelids, my temples, my earlobes until I’m trembling with an ache I can’t even describe.

I try again. I grab one of his hands and place it on my breast, inside the bodice of my wedding dress.

He obediently kneads my flesh before removing his hand and turning it over to brush his knuckles across my decollete in a soft, worshipful manner.

It feels too real.

Too devotional.

And I honestly feel like it might kill me.

“Take my dress off,” I demand, presenting him with my back so that he can’t see inside my heart, my very soul and see that I’ve been stupid enough to fall in love with him.

He sweeps my hair forward and does grip the zipper but at the same time trails kisses over my shoulder, and flicks his tongue across my earlobe. I’m a quivering mass of emotion and sexual need, my pussy aching, my heart breaking.

“The zipper is stuck,” he murmurs, tugging it lightly. “It’s caught in the fabric.”

“Just rip it.” I don’t care.

“Elise, no. You must have spent a lot of time making this dress.”

I never want to see this dress again. I’m going to either toss it in the trash after today or deconstruct it and dye the fabric black. I can’t hang it in my closet and not feel a world of regret every time my eyes land on it.

“I don’t care,” I tell him. “Just get me out of this thing.” I sound anxious and frustrated.

He manages to finesse the zipper down and he slips his hands inside, forcing the dress off of my shoulders. It drops to my hips and he shoves it down past my curves. When it thumps softly on the floor, I’m ready to walk straight to the bed, or even better, bend over the couch, but he holds me there, massaging my breasts from behind, teasing my nipples, palming my pussy.

I shudder as heat floods me.

Rocking my ass back against him, I finally have the satisfaction of hearing him moan a little under his breath. He does love my ass. He also has just realized that my panties have a slit in them, so his finger just sinks deep into me.

“You got the panties with the slit for me,” he murmurs into my ear. “That’s really sexy, Sugar.”

“That’s right. No shapewear.”

“Thank you.” He strokes over me so lightly I want to scream.

“You’re welcome. See how wet I am for you?” I rock my ass back against him and my pussy forward onto his finger. “Fuck me, Blake.”

But again, my husband has different ideas.

He scoops me up again and carries me to the bedroom, laying me down on the mattress so carefully and gently that for a minute, it really feels like this is our wedding day and we’re married.

That he loves me.

Then as I watch him slowly strip out of his suit and tie, undoing the buttons on his suit while I prop myself up on my elbows, it occurs to me that this is it.

This is our goodbye.

I know Blake damn well by now.

After today, he’s moving on. Literally and figuratively.

He will focus on securing the house for himself and finishing the rest of the Racketeers season, intent on winning the championship. There will be no space in his life for me, physically or emotionally.

So he’s saying goodbye.

This is it. Our last time together.

He wants it to be more than just a quick wall bang, because he appreciates what I have done for him.

And because he does care about me.

For a second, I feel the words on my lips, threatening to burst forth.

I love you.

But I press them tightly together. If I tell him how I feel, right now, he might just panic and walk out and I’ll never have this sweet, sensual memory he’s clearly intent on making with me.

So I reach my hand out for him.

We’ll do this his way.

Blake gives me a smile as he drops his pants. “See anything you like?” he asks, mimicking my earlier words.

I laugh softly. “Yes. My handsome husband.”

It’s meant to be tongue-in-cheek. To let him know I’m sticking to the plan.

But it has a different effect than I’m expecting.

“ Fuck , Sugar.” Then he’s down on the bed, pressing into my thighs with a firm grip before sinking his tongue deep inside me.

“Oh, God! I wasn’t expecting that!”

Then I can’t breathe as he gets busy, nipping and sucking and licking me, taking full advantage of my newly purchased just-for-him panties. Falling back onto my bed, I decide to let go and just enjoy the attention.

He’s giving soft moans of pleasure. “You taste so fucking good, Elise. God, I love?—”

My heart almost stops.

But then he finishes his sentence.

“—your pussy.”

That makes me annoyed with myself all over again.

Blake is not going to confess love to me with his tongue buried in my thighs.

Then he sucks on my clit and my mind blissfully empties. It’s just him and me and a blinding hot orgasm that washes over me like a riptide.

Closing my eyes, I thrash and grip the sheets, shudders wracking my body.

Blake draws back and takes the corner of my panties and rips them, snapping first one side of the string, then the other. His strength and clear need for me has me eager for more. I shove the cups of my bra down and he immediately pulls my nipples into his mouth as he settles his weight over me.

“Hard or soft?” he murmurs, as his thick cock nudges against my very wet entrance.

I spread my legs wider and tell him emphatically, “Hard.”

“That’s my girl.”

Then he thrusts inside me with a powerful burst that knocks the wind right out of my chest. I can barely recover before he’s slamming into me over and over, his powerful biceps entrapping me between his arms, his muscular thighs giving him maximum speed.

I’m a mess of ecstasy and bouncing, trembling thighs, frantic thoughts and head-pounding pleasure.

Blake doesn’t stop when my head hits the headboard and I don’t care. The small amount of pain only seems fitting, only adds to the all-consuming intensity of what is happening between us.

He yanks my hip up higher and then he pauses, buried deep, and yells out, “Fuck, Elise, baby!”

I know the feeling.

I’m shattering apart, raking my nails down his back, yelling what may or may not be actual words, I’m not even sure. Maybe I’m not even breathing. I have no idea.

I’m certainly not thinking.

I’m just being destroyed and I fucking love it and him with all my heart.

Until my orgasm is over and he’s crushing me and I realize there is no coming back from this.

I can’t undo loving Blake and I don’t want to.

My tongue is three sizes too big in my mouth and I try to swallow.

He gives me a grin and a head shake. “Whoa, that was hot.” Then he slaps the side of my ass and climbs out of bed. He scoops up his clothes and disappears into my bathroom.

I lay there, a little shell-shocked, making no move to fix my bra or adjust my destroyed panties. When he returns, I’m still sprawled out, wondering how the hell I allowed myself to fall in love with a man who has no interest in doing the same.

Pick the man who aspires to be a hermit.

Great job, girl.

Blakes is already fully dressed. Even his tie is tied. He bends over and kisses my forehead. “Have a good night. See you after the game.”

Then he swipes my panties and tucks them into his interior pocket.

“You’re stealing my underwear again?” I ask, bewildered.

He grins and flips the cups of my bra back up over my breasts. “Yep. They’re ruined anyway.”

“That’s weird,” I say, because I don’t know what else to say.

I actually think it’s hot, but I need any kind of barrier between us I can create.

Blake just gives me a wave and leaves. When the front door closes behind him, I roll over and punch my pillow.

Hard.

“You’re a fucking mess,” I tell myself. “Pull it together.”

I don’t listen to myself.

Instead, I jump out of bed and go on a frantic search for my phone in my apartment so that I can scroll through the wedding photos Blake posted of us online.

Except I don’t find my stupid phone.