When Clara finally appears, she looks like an angel. My chest is bursting with pride and joy for her. I watch her for a moment before my eyes turn back up the aisle. Graham stares at her, jaw hanging open, eyes round and teary. On both of their expressions, pure love shines like beacons through a still night.
Holly abruptly steps closer to me, her small body pressed to my side. One of her hands lifts, pressing to her heart. She tips her head up, gaze meeting mine as she swallows hard.
The apples of her cheeks glow pink in the fading light. Soon, stars will twinkle overhead, reflecting in her eyes. “It’s lovely,” she whispers throatily. “So lovely.”
You’re lovely, I almost utter back. So lovely.
Chapter 12
Holly
“I am definitely not a dancer!” I say with an embarrassed laugh, apologizing for what feels like the tenth time of stepping on Bash’s toes. “Can you even still feel your poor feet?”
“They’re hanging in there,” the billionaire teases, his warm palms sliding down my back.
His fingertips brush along the plunging back of the dress, making my skin prickle. Was I ever going to get used to him touching me like this?
It lit a fire in my core, reminding me what it felt like to be wrapped up in his arms and pinned against a wall while his mouth explored my body. This is going to be a very, very long night. By the end of it, I just might burst into a bonfire of desire.
It didn’t help that Bash had been unusually subdued throughout our evening together. We weren’t bickering like normal, his tone more gentle and warm. I had a bet with myself about how long we’d be able to stand one another as dates for the evening, but so far it was a completely pleasant experience. His family and friends were interesting and generally welcoming and the food and music were amazing.
After the gorgeous ceremony, we sat at our table for a few minutes, each nursing a drink, when Bash’s mother floated by and asked why we weren’t dancing. Knowing it would attract even more attention to be sitting on the sidelines, we both slowly headed for the dance floor. Clara and Graham were still taking pictures outside, having been whisked away immediately following their vows.
After the ceremony, Bash and I had remained sitting while everyone else slowly rose and headed to the reception area. I can’t imagine how it must feel to watch your younger sibling get married, especially with so much love between the siblings. Bash must be so proud, but the smile that graced his face was almost bittersweet.
“You’re doing fine, Holly,” he adds, watching as I stare intently down at our feet, struggling to avoid stepping on him again.
It seems like the harder I try, the more of a magnetic pull my feet have for his. To his credit, he’s being very kind about it.
The song changes, melting from an upbeat tempo into a slow, lovesick ballad.
I look up at him hesitantly, still keeping a certain amount of distance as the rest of the couples sink into one another, their arms looping around each other, their bodies swaying together.
Does he want to slow dance or is that crossing some unspoken line in our fake wedding date contract?
The plans for tonight felt so simple until we spent all morning making those deliveries together. Seeing how generous Bash can be, what kind of heart he’s hiding under his guarded exterior, it’s left me feeling confused about him now. Not that it matters. It’s not like Bash is interested in me. We had our our one-time tryst. I’m sure he’s ready to move on.
But what about me . . . am I ready to move on?
It’s odd, but even though we’ve only known each other for two days, I'm already having trouble imagining tomorrow when I will wake up with no reason to speak to him again.
Gently, he pulls me closer to him, a faint smile on his face. “A slow dance will be easier,” he whispers under the tone of the music so no one else can hear. “We can just sway together and you don’t have to move your feet as much.”
There it is again, that thoughtfulness. If only he stayed impossibly arrogant and pompous, this would be so much easier. Then I’d only be thinking about how sexy he is, not what kind of soul is concealed beneath his Armani suit.
Our chests press together, my arms sliding slowly around his strong neck. There’s a rapid beating reverberating against my ribs and I honestly can’t tell whether it’s his heart or my own.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” he murmurs, voice deep and husky.
His fingers trace up my spine, counting the vertebrae. I have to bite back a moan.
“I'm actually having a lot of fun. I wasn’t sure I would. Some weddings are pretty lame, ya know?” I'm rambling now, trying to keep my thoughts anywhere but him and his touch. But the damn music is so slow and our bodies are so close and I can still remember the sweetness of his tongue against mine.
He gazes at me with unblinking eyes, hands stroking my back. His eyes seem to glow; silver molten lava licks his dilated pupils. He feels it too, I realize . . . this heat. The air seems to crackle, charged with mutual longing. He pulls me closer, closer, my eyelids drifting shut as my face tilts up toward his. I feel his warm breath fan my cheeks.
“There you are!” cries a voice as arms fling around Bash’s neck.
We stumble apart as though the skin where we touched has suddenly burned.
My chest heaves as I struggle to calm myself, knowing my cheeks must be bright red.
Clara squeezes Bash tight, her groom standing awkwardly behind her. “Hi, Holly,” he says kindly. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you yet. I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Graham, Clara’s husband. Thank you so much for those cupcakes, they were amazing. I'm so glad you came today.”
“Oh, y-you’re welcome—” I stutter.
“I am still so shocked that Bash brought you here!” Clara adds, excitedly. “My brother never introduces us to the women he dates. How long have you two been seeing one another? Is it getting serious? I'm going to toss the bouquet any minute . . . Want me to aim it at you? Maybe it’ll be you who’s next to the altar!” Clara claps her hands together. “You and Bash would have such adorable kids—”
“Okay, Clara, calm down,” Bash mutters, nudging her lightly with his elbow.
The girl, sweet and bubbly as she is, is also overwhelming. The walls of the room seem to be closing in with each word she says, threatening to crush me whole. I have a feeling if we were talking about anything but the future that Bash and I absolutely won’t have, Clara and I might’ve been friends. But right now, while I'm feeling this confused, I just can’t handle this conversation.
“I'm just making conversation!” Clara pouts, looking to her new husband for backup.
“I'm sorry!” I interrupt, retreating from both Bash and his sister. “I just need some air. I'll be back in a second.”
I evacuate further from the swaying bodies, desperate for a moment of fresh air and distance from the suffocating conversation. The last thing I see before turning and darting through the doors is Bash’s bewildered, steely eyes—eyes that I can still feel piercing my heart.
Chapter 13
Sebastian