Chapter Sixteen

Sebastian

Nora's hips move in a rhythmic sway as we move toward the mechanical bull ring. She's in those damn jean cutoffs again, but this time, she's wearing them with a body-hugging, nearly see-through tank top that begs to be stared at.

How the hell is a shirt that says cowboy pillows doing it for me in such a major way? It makes me want to throw a sweater over her and lug her back to the lodge before an actual cowboy gets any ideas.

I pull up beside her so I don't have to watch her walk anymore.

Ro waves us on and jogs to the dance floor to rescue Gia—or maybe forcibly remove her from the cowboy's arms.

Alessia surfaces, no doubt fresh from hiding to say goodnight to El. She gathers with the rest of us near the entrance gate of the corral, next to a group of three women.

Behind where the operator is posted up on a stool, a sign that says Feisty Little Bucker hangs next to a digital clock. A hanging pendulum light casts a bright glow on the tiny, raised stage that acts as a podium for the mechanical bull.

A curvy girl with long platinum locks in a hot pink cowboy hat—who is completely falling out of her top—takes her turn as her friends cheer her on. Sergio and Benji are both openly gawking at her.

"I imagine this is what the strip club would've felt like," Alessia deadpans.

Enzo turns around and faces the opposite direction like a good boy.

Nora subtly peeks over at me, mouth fastened to the rim of her cup. And because I'm looking right back at her, she is busted for checking.

"Not my type." I lower my voice so only she can hear. "I prefer brunettes."

Her cheeks flush a pretty peach color as she takes a long sip to cover the smile on her face. And I'm the jackass who really likes putting it there.

The blonde's turn concludes. She and her friends take off, leaving the bull open for our group.

"Next up!" the operator calls.

Sergio—who I half expected to chase after the group of women who just left, given the naked lust in his eyes—bounds through the gate. "Let's ride."

Ro scrutinizes his four-second turn with a crinkled nose. "That looks hard. I think I'm too that for drunk."

"You mean too drunk for that ?" Gia asks, in no better shape herself as she sways. She leans on Ro for balance.

Gia goes after Sergio, lasting so long the operator had to crank it up to high gear to get her to fall off.

On Ro's turn, she holds on for dear life, melting gracefully off the side in about three seconds. Enzo does it with no hands and a cocky smile, which is impressive until the operator tests his smug ass by kicking it straight into high gear. He falls off and jogs to the gate with a wave to his nonexistent adoring fans.

Nora's next.

She steps on the podium and swings her leg over the bull. Her white cowboy boots dangle as she shimmies her body into place.

It whirs to life. Her back arches and her knees hug the sides as the operator eases her into the ride. She grips the lone strap with one hand and the other sticks straight up.

As the bull lurches and she hinges forward to hold on, her shorts ride up so high I can see the crease where her legs end and her ass begins. I lose a year of my life from the stress of trying not to look at her lithe body as she moves.

Speaking of types, she's mine to a T—and the T stands for tempting.

When she starts to slip at the end, she throws herself off and ambles confidently toward the gate. We cheer, and Alessia gives her a wolf whistle. Her giggle at the attention bleeds into a full-blown laugh.

She exits through the gate and Benji offers her a high five. "Crushed it, Nora."

"What is this, gym class?" Ro says with a laugh. "Give your girl a kiss, Benji!"

My stomach twists into a violent knot.

Benji's steely gaze flits between Nora and his sister, and I cannot for the life of me figure out how he's going to get out of this. My pulse rages in my ears.

Nora's eyes are wide and fearful. For a split second, I'm sure they're going to blow their cover by refusing to kiss.

And for a different second, I'm sure he's going to kiss her.

Alessia grabs my arm like we're watching a scary movie and leans close to my ear. "Remember when I bet you a hundred bucks he wouldn't? I'm about to collect."

I don't care about the money. I'd give a thousand for him to keep his hands off her.

"Dude, do you need me to kiss your girl for you?" Sergio asks.

Alessia pinches Enzo's elbow and whispers something in his ear.

I'm not even sure I'm breathing when Enzo dips down and throws Rosalina over his shoulder. "If you want to watch two people get weird, let's find a mirror." He smacks her ass so loud she screeches. "C'mon you filthy voyeurs. Next round's on me!"

"Bridal body shots?" Gia yells.

"Hell yeah." Sergio squats and circles his arms around her thighs. "Need me to be your pickup truck?"

"Fine, but I'm not going to your room tonight." She holds on to his shoulders. "I just really like free rides."

"And that's exactly what you'd find in my room."

She hits his back. "Andale!"

They jog behind Enzo and his bride.

Nora's shoulders sag in relief. "Saved by the Enzo."

But for how long?

Alessia fixes whatever is wrong with my hair. "If anyone tries to get us to kiss, you have my consent to throw me over your shoulder and haul me into traffic."

"Very romantic." I nod toward the busy bar. "Come on, I'd hate to miss watching Sergio take a body shot off his cousin's bride."

Benji's face morphs with disgust. "Have fun with that. I'll stay here with the bull."

Amusement dances in Alessia's eyes. "You and Nora go ahead. I'm going to hang back and get to know my future sort of brother-in-law."

…

As Gia lifts a shot glass from Ro's cleavage with her teeth and throws it back hands-free, Ro pats her pocket. "Who's texting me? All my people are here."

"And your people can party ," Nora notes, her voice drowned out by the house music and the tip bell jangling.

"This is just a regular Friday for us." Enzo hooks a finger around Ro's sash and pulls her away from Gia. "I just don't usually invite people when I take shots from her tits."

" Enzo . Hush." Ro lifts her phone high to read it. "Why is my mother texting me about Italian wedding tradition?"

"No Mamma V tonight!" Gia snatches her phone and fumbles it, sending it sailing to the ground. Enzo hurries to pick it up and pocket it. When he stands back up, he sways like a house of cards.

They're going to pass out if I don't step in. What did Nora call me? Party dad?

Time to parent.

"We're all well on our way to wasted," I tell the group. "Maybe we should take a thirty-minute break—"

"No resting!" Sergio cries. "This is a bachelor party. We're supposed to shut this place down. Gia, what're we drinking?"

No one is listening, but I answer anyway. "Water would be my recommendation."

Nora tugs me a step backward by the elbow. We stand side by side as we watch the madness. "Nice try. There's no fighting this. Just let it happen."

"But if I don't hydrate them, no one will. They'll wake up hungover as hell."

Her eyes twinkle as she smirks. "What happened to let them have their fun?"

It's too loud not to get closer to her for this conversation. Our arms fall flush. "I underestimated how much fun they were physically capable of having on this side of thirty."

"Thirty is the new twenty." She hip bumps me. "I bet you partied your butt off at twenty. Slutty baseball boy style."

"Slutty baseball boy?"

"At every school I've ever been in, especially in the south where we spent a lot of time, the baseball boys were secretly the sluttiest ones of all. Football players? Nah, there were too many eyes on them. Basketball and soccer? They had their fun. But baseball? They acted like goody-two-shoes with their yes ma'ams and hats and innocent demeanor. But they got more action than a John Wick movie."

She's not wrong, though I'd argue it's just a horny athlete thing, not a baseball player-specific thing. "And how would you know?"

Her shrug is coy. "Maybe I was paying extra close attention."

I shove down my irrational jealousy that her attention was directed at those other assholes as I turn to face her. My heart pounds against my ribcage. Her gaze flits between my eyes, and I fight the urge to look at her mouth.

And then I lose that fight. Her pretty lips lift at the corners. I bet they taste as good as they look.

Gia steps up on the running board of the bar and hails the bartender. "'Scuse me sir, do you sell champagne?"

His stare is appraising. "I have the stuff you cut with OJ for mimosas. Andre."

"I'll take a bottle."

The grizzled bartender, who looks like he could kill a man with his bare hands, retrieves the Andre, aims it at the wall, and uncorks it before surrendering the bottle. White bubbles fizz from the top. "How many cups?"

Sergio cuts in. "None, thanks." He takes it and whirls around as Poison's "Nothin' But A Good Time" pumps the air full of energy. "Line up!"

"Wedding parties," the bartender grumbles, shaking his head as he lumbers off.

Enzo drops his ass into a stool and pulls Ro on his lap. Gia perches on the stool beside them and pats her thigh. "Nora, get over here."

She trots over and hops in Gia's lap.

Sergio hovers over Ro and Enzo first. "Open up."

Enzo, who has reached senior prom after-party levels of drunk, wraps his fingers around Ro's mouth to pop it open. Sergio lifts the champagne and drips it in. She wipes the excess off her lips as she swallows.

"Feed me, Seymour." Enzo steals the bottle from Sergio's hand and takes his own swig.

Sergio steals it back and moves down the line. His shit-eating grin fixes itself in place as Gia lifts her chin.

His forearm flexes as he jerks the bottle upward, giving her way more than Ro.

Liquid bursts out of her mouth and sprays his white shirt. She punches him with one arm and holds Nora to her lap with the other so she doesn't fall out. "Don't drown me, jackass."

"Whoops." His innocent expression fools no one as his attention moves to Nora. "All right, Benji's girl—open wide."

That saying makes my skin crawl, coming out of his mouth. And I don't like the way he looks at her.

She opens her mouth. He rests the glass edge of the bottle on her tongue and places a hand beneath her chin, for no fucking reason.

I want to smack that bottle out of his hand.

Nora's eyes meet mine as he tips the bottle, heat swirling in their depths.

Her throat works as she swallows but she doesn't even blink, watching me like there's not another human on Earth, let alone in this bar.

Good . I want her eyes on me. I want all her attention. I don't want her to touch Benji or anyone else.

And it's driving me up the wall.

Bubbly liquid spills out of her mouth, pouring down her neck, down her chest until it soaks her shirt. She pushes the bottle away. "Too much!"

"Whoops." Sergio attempts a chagrined smile. "You were taking it so well I forgot to stop."

"Jesus Christ, Sergio." I lunge forward and snatch the bottle from his hand.

Everyone's eyes are on me, but I feel Ro's like a brand pressed into the side of my face.

Panicked, I take a swig. One won't kill me. "Share the wealth."

They break out into cheers for me. All except Nora, who's busy procuring bar napkins to wipe her chest.

Everyone resumes competing for the Most Drunk Human award, where the points don't matter and nobody wins.

I resume keeping my eyes off the off-limits woman who has thoroughly gotten under my skin.

…

At last call, Nora and I take one of Benji's arms each and hoist them over our shoulders. I don't need her help, but I let her do it anyway.

"You're going to regret mixing your liquors tomorrow, boyfriend," Nora informs him. "Long Island Iced Teas are hangovers in a glass."

"Nah. You know, this wedding isn't so bad." Benji looks at Nora. "Thanks for forcing me to come. You're a good friend."

Nora grins as we push through the double doors into the unseasonably warm night. The air is humid and smells like rain. "I'm going to quote you on that."

"And Sebastian"—his almost black eyes meet mine—"you're A-okay in my book."

"Thanks, man." Nora and I lead him toward the back of the parking lot. "Same to you."

"If you ever want to play Risk or something, Nora and I have a weekly game night. Usually lasts about four hours."

Nora lets out a nervous titter of a laugh. "He's moving soon after we get back, Benji. I'm sure he doesn't want to waste his time playing a long board game with us."

I catch her eye as fireflies strobe in the dark woods behind her. "I don't?"

She gets that deer-in-the-headlights look, and I regret saying it. It's not a good idea to spend more time with her when I'm struggling to keep my interest platonic.

A slap on the back of my head disrupts the moment at a perfect time. It also stings.

"It's a love slap," Enzo slurs. He puts one clumsy foot in front of the other as he trails behind us. His nose is Rudolph red, just like Alessia's gets when she's had too much. He squints one eye as if to bring me into focus. "Thanks for coming this week. Miss hanging out with you, brother."

The feeling is mutual. I can't remember the last time we've really spent time together. Sure, he's been busy with a secret relationship, but when will we get this time again?

I wish there was more of it—time and opportunity. But I push the thought aside and focus on my current task before I let those thoughts catch hold.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be than your wedding. Now come here before you eat gravel." I drag him into our human red-rover chain. He leans on me for support, which means we're now three large men and Nora.

Gia and Ro dart past us like two drunk roombas zigzagging to home base. Alessia tries to keep up with them, hands lifted like she's going to catch them when they inevitably fall.

Ro's singing is indistinguishable. Could be a country song. Could be the contents of her grocery list.

"That's my girl," Enzo says, but it sounds like one word. Thasmygirl.

It's nice to see him so damn happy. Him and Alessia both. "Happy for you, bud."

"Me too. I'm a lucky motherfucker."

"I'm glad my sister found you," Benji adds.

I get the sense that for him, this is a glowing endorsement.

We reach our parking spot. I unlock my car with the click of a button. "All right men, you're with me."

Alessia shoots finger guns at a Ford Explorer SUV parked three spaces away. "And everyone who likes me better than Sebastian, let's roll."

We break into the two vehicles. At the fifteen-minute mark of our drive home, the boisterous troops lose steam. Enzo passes out with his mouth wide open. Benji starts to complain of motion sickness, so I have to slow down on the mountain turns. A thirty-minute drive becomes a forty-five minute drive, and everyone is miserably restless or nauseous by the time we pull up to The Foxfire Lodge.

I park next to the side entrance to our tower. Alessia's vehicle pulls in beside mine.

It's like a clown car opening up as everyone falls out, whatever jackets or purses or bridal sashes people remember to take draped over their bodies. Thunder rumbles the sky. It sounds like it's going to pour any minute.

Alessia emerges from the SUV, lips flat-lined. "These girls are a wreck."

"Yeah? Well, Enzo is passed out in my back seat. Sergio is close to that point, too."

Gia's arm cradles her stomach. "I need a bathroom."

Ro's eyes are closed. "I need our bed."

Thanks to the strict rules set in place by the parents paying for this thing, Ro and Enzo weren't "allowed" to share. Enzo's stuck bunking with Sergio, and Ro and Gia share a room. I had to listen to Enzo loudly complain about this very topic at dinner.

"Take the rest of these drunkards upstairs, Rossi." Alessia shoos us along. "I've got my brother and Sergio."

I hold her eye. "You sure?"

"Yes. I know how to handle them drunk. And it's better Z embarrasses himself in front of his twin and not his bride or friends."

I've never been more grateful to be DD in my life, watching this trainwreck unfold.

As soon as we cram into the elevator, Ro's head thuds against the mirrored wall. "I think I should've kept drinking, because now it's wearing off, and I feel all wrong ." She clutches the space above her stomach, almost like she was aiming for her heart.

"What do you need?" Nora asks softly.

Gia answers for her. "Death."

The elevator encourages our exit with a sharp ding .

Benji hugs the wall as he walks, his key card still aloft from when he let us into the resort tower. That is a man ready to get into his room and end the day.

"610," he announces, hovering his card at his door handle. "Nora, you coming?"

"Go ahead. I'm going to make sure the girls are okay."

"We're 612," Ro manages, placing two hands on the wall to brace herself. "Gia babe, where's the room key?"

Gia's eyes are firmly shut. "Check my boobs."

I stare at the ceiling while Nora goes fishing for the plastic card.

"There's nothing here," Nora says. "I mean, there's boob, but nothing else. It must've fallen out when you were doing flips on the dance floor."

Gia's voice is a warning of impending danger. "I really need a bathroom. Or a trash can."

I whip a key from my back pocket and usher Gia forward. "My room's right here. 614."

She slaps her hand over her mouth. As soon as the door is open she darts for the bathroom and doesn't even have time to shut the door before she's on her knees in front of the toilet. Nora rushes in behind her and grabs her hair.

"That will make me sick," Ro says wearily. "I can't watch people throw up."

"Go lie down," I tell her. "We can't have two people getting sick."

I pace the foyer space, plaid carpet beneath my feet, as Ro lies facedown on my bed, fingers clutching sheets like she's holding on for dear life. Nora gets comfortable beside Gia, cooing quiet words I can't hear and rubbing her back.

When it's clear that these will be the battle stations for the foreseeable future, I take an extra blanket from the closet and spread it on the floor in front of the television. I turn it on to drown out the sound of Gia's performance. An old sitcom with a laugh track drones on as I stare at the screen and wait for Nora.

Minutes—or maybe hours, who knows—later, Nora tiptoes out from the bathroom. I never bothered to turn on the overhead light, so she's backlit by the bathroom light and barely front lit by the pulsing television.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes. Other than that champagne, I haven't finished a drink in hours." She drops to her knees at the very edge of my new floor bed near my feet, exhaustion painted in her eyes. "Gia's asleep curled up on the bathroom floor. I begged her to at least sleep in the bed, but she refused to leave. I created a little towel bed for her, though."

The visual of that makes my chest hurt, her doting on a drunk person. "You did your best."

She fights a smile. Her gaze falls. "Should I go? I don't know if you want to be alone with them, in case one of them needs girl help."

"Don't go." A second wind blows through my tired body. "In case one of them needs help, or they get scared waking up in a dude's room."

She chews her lip and peers over her shoulder. "Okay."

I pat the floor beside me. "This is all I have to offer."

She crawls forward on the blanket, eyes still pinned to me.

Every pure thought I ever had about her incinerates in an instant. I'm possessed by a vivid fantasy of her crawling right up to me and swinging her leg over my hips. My hands climbing her thighs. The way she'd look from that angle, poised to wreck me. I'd make her leave that stupid tank top on and wrap it in my fist—

The hallucination disappears with a poof when she lies down on the sliver of blanket between me and the TV stand. " Mike and Molly . Great show."

I massage my tense face, because there's not one relaxed inch of me right now. "I have no idea what this show is. Not a big TV guy."

She rolls on her side to face the TV, placing the smooth expanse of her neck and bare shoulder half a foot away from my face. "Give it a chance."

I take a steadying breath. "I will."

Every inch between us feels electrically charged as we watch the show. Or more accurately, I watch her watching the show because everything about her is distracting: the way her fingers absently toy with the hem of her shorts, the way her legs slide together when she slightly shifts positions, the sound of her breathing.

How good it feels not to be alone. To be with her.

My interest shifts between her and the show until my eyes grow heavy. I drift into that first stage of sleep, not restful but not conscious, so much so that when she rolls over to face me, I'm not sure if I'm awake or dreaming.

Lips parted, her finger taps the tattoo on my biceps. My skin registers the sensation of my cotton shirt, then the warmth of her fingertips against my bare skin.

"What is the significance?" she nearly whispers.

I twist my arm. My muscles flex. "I scaled Everest a few times."

Her smile is almost reluctant. "The fact that I'm not sure you're kidding is why you are a danger to all women under the age of sixty."

"That's a nice way to compliment my lung capacity." I pause. "I got it to remember the only real family trip we ever took. We spent a week in a cabin in the Appalachian Mountains. My parents, grandparents, and I."

"That's a great reason to get one," she murmurs, a dash of awe inher tone. She nudges my sleeve higher to see more. Her touch is impossibly soft."It looks good on you."

I think I could break a sheet of plywood clean in half right now. Maybe with my teeth.

Her skin against mine makes me reckless. "I want to see yours."

She shifts onto her side like we're watching TV again, her entire body parallel with mine, almost no space between us. So close. In this position, the ink above her right elbow is perfectly visible as her arm rests on her side.

My mouth drifts closer to her ear. The television has settled into a grittier show that takes place at night, so the light is scarce. Dark enough for trouble. "What does it mean?"

With every deep, shaky breath she takes, her back lightly bumps my chest. " One day is a lyric. My mom has the other half— to believe in you . It's from her favorite song."

I drag my thumb across the letters. My face moves to the hollow behind her ear as if magnetized. She smells as good as I know she'd taste if I kissed her there, sweet with a dash of salt. "But what's your favorite song?"

Her mouth falls slack and a tiny sound escapes. I want to collect it on my tongue and feel her lips against mine with an urgency that borders on desperate. The distance between us is swallowed up as she arches into me.

"That one's written on my ribs." Her tone is tinged with smoke and suggestion as she reaches blindly for my hand. Clasping my fingers, she guides them to the hem of her tank top. "Want to see?"

I press my molars together and breathe through my nose to try to hold on to my self-control so I don't flip her over and pin her to the ground.

As gently as I can manage, I smooth a palm over the sliver of bare skin between her shorts and her tank top. Fire coils up my arm as I nudge the hem of her shirt higher.

Her skin glows in the low light. I brush my thumb over the tattoo back and forth in two slow strokes. Her next exhale is sharp as she traps my hand against her skin before I can retract it.

I pull her against me as her breathing picks up. She guides my hand higher over her lacy bra.

This is so fucking wrong, but I can't stop my fingers from sneaking inside. Her nipples are hard, begging to be stroked.

I pinch one between my fingers and roll it lightly.

The quietest whine escapes her mouth as her hips start to move, driving her perfect ass against where I'm hard for her. It feels so good to have her in my arms. My mouth finds her neck. Her pulse rages beneath my lips as I drift sideways, latching on to the warm skin behind her ear.

She tilts her head as if to look at me. I brush my lips over her jaw.

And then I plant one little kiss on the corner of her mouth. I have to.

"Seb." It's barely more than a breath as she twists to lie on her back. I trace her lips with my thumb.

She traps my finger in her mouth.

And then she lightly sucks.

Fuck it.

I bat her hand aside and my mouth closes over hers so fast I don't have time to think. Her soft lips yield to mine.

She opens wider and gives me her tongue, pure sweetness in a languid stroke. She tastes like champagne—sweet with a hint of citrus. Like she'll make me drunk and reckless. I tease her lips apart and deepen the kiss as her body melts into mine.

My other hand finds her hair. It's soft and messy from the wild night. It slips through my fingers as her tongue slides against mine slowly. Too slowly.

She pulls back and gasps a breath.

My body nearly vibrates with restraint. I feel like a wind-up car cranked all the way with nowhere to go. But if she wants to stop, I'll respect—

Her lips meet mine again, harder this time, and I groan into her mouth. Her hand sneaks up my shirt, her touch eager enough to make me want to do something stupid like reach my hand in her shorts to see if she's as wet as I am hard. The scratch of her nails sends a shiver down my spine—

The metal bed frame beside us creaks.

Shit .

I ease off her. A blaring siren in my head deafens all other thoughts.

This is bad. At this angle, nestled close to the foot of the bed, Ro couldn't see us unless she sat up, right?

We stay completely still on our backs as we wait for Ro to say something or show she's awake. Her motionless silence persists for a minute, and then another as my heart rate regulates.

I got so caught up in Nora I forgot there were other people in this room—passed out, but still. I forgot everything except her.

What if she'd caught us? What the hell was I thinking?

Everything about Nora is off-limits right now and moving forward. Obviously, I can't trust myself not to take things too far, and more than one person is implicated if this thing goes sideways. Time to cut the power on whatever switch she's flipped in me. That starts with us never being alone again.

Not that we were even alone this time.

When I'm certain Ro is asleep, I attempt to stand, but Nora's warm hand closes around mine to stop me.

"This is your room," she whispers. "I'll go."

And despite it all, I'm disappointed when the door shuts quietly behind her.