Charity's Passion (36 page)

"We're married," Justin tells me with a smile. "I love you."

"I love you too—so much."

The recession is quick and cocktail hour begins for our guests while we take pictures in the park. Some late arrivals are still being brought in on the horse drawn carriages, but they should be the last ones.

Justin has one more surprise waiting for me when the pictures end. A gondolier picks us up for a trip across the lake, and he has a bottle of Nando Fragolino and two glass flutes waiting for us onboard.

We climb in and the gondolier pushes us away from the dock. When the boat rocks, I death grip the sides, terrified about going over into the lake in my wedding dress and becoming the next U-tube hit.

Justin laughs. "Relax, we're fine," he says comfortingly.

My hands release the boat so I can watch him pour the Fragolino into our glasses without spilling a drop. My husband passes me a glass and a sentimental smile.

"Have I told you the history behind this champagne?" He asks.

I recall how he teased me the first time we did this together and I laugh, "Yes, I remember what you said."

His strong laugh bellows across the water. "Well I may have lied then, did you want to hear a true story?"

"Of course."

He holds his glass out for me and I tap mine gently against it. "Once upon a time there was a man that loved a woman, a warrior from a distant tribe, more than anyone had ever loved another before and he needed a way to tell her. Just blurting it out was not going to work, not for this woman, she was way too beautiful and way too smart for something so mundane, so he came up with a plan. He rented a ship and a captain, and had them taken around a beautiful body of water. When the time was right, he opened a bottle of this very champagne and as he poured her glass, he also poured his heart."

"Did it go well for him?" I ask, smiling ridiculously.

"It did, it went very well, and one year later he was out on that boat with her again, this time celebrating their wedding."

"Wow, now that man was a romantic," I add. "Did he know then that he was setting a precedence with her, and that he might have to take her out on that ship every year for their anniversary?"

Justin laughs again, "Yes, he was quite aware, even before his warrior boldly pointed it out."

We smile at each other for a few moments, enjoying the ride.

"Today was the first time I've ever really felt that my father was with me, watching, and that he is proud of me."

"I'm sure that he is, Justin. I'm sure he's very proud of you."

We drink our glasses empty as the Boathouse and our guests get closer.

"Thank you—for saving me.
”

O
ur eyes meet across the room again. I know that look and exactly what he wants from me. I'm sure it won't be long now.

The reception has been fantastic. I'm having so much fun dancing and the band is awesome. Right now they're playing
"Ten Feet Tall"
from Afrojack and I really feel ten feet tall, jumping up and down and ignoring the sweat dripping into my chest.

I catch his stare again and I feel a tightening between my legs.

I'm dancing between Melissa and Nicolette, and they both seem to have more stamina than I do, like they could go all night. They look incredible and I look like I need a shower. During the next song I'm going to quit and go to the bar; I need a drink and my feet need a break.

My shoes are tucked under my chair, wherever that is. I didn't want to break an ankle, not tonight please, but even barefoot my feet throb and my ankles are bitching about the rough working conditions.

A minute later the song finally ends. "I'm going," I tell the girls. "I gotta sit down with a tall drink."

"Oh thank Christ! I'm coming with you," Melissa shouts, apparently not as vivacious as I'd thought.

"Are you coming too?" I ask Nicolette.

"Hell no," she laughs, throwing her hands over her head like a champ. "I don't get to move like this very often. They can come drag me off the floor later when the music stops and the lights come on."

Really need to know where her energy comes from.

We leave the dance floor and walk straight to the bar with the shortest line. The bartender, a Russian boy with a strong jaw and hazel eyes, smiles at Melissa and she doesn't even see it. I swear—she's oblivious sometimes.

My admirer is closer now, but his gaze is just as intense, maybe more so. I'm absolutely dying to have his lips on me. I realize I may be looking at him as often as he's looking at me; it's hard to tell at this point.

"This has been just incredible and beautiful," Melissa says. "The food was amazing, this place is gorgeous. I can't wait to see the pictures; it looked amazing out by the water, such a perfect day."

It really was. There isn't anything to whine about.

He's still staring, he doesn't even seem to care if anyone notices the attention he's giving me. I feel his eyes on me like heat, burning through my dress in places I would only want him to look, no one else.

I fucking want him. It's a passion I'm not going to be able to control much longer at all. My eyes undress him, peeling his clothes back in handsome layers. The tuxedo has something to do with it, I know, but it's also this teasing with each other all night from across the room that has my blood coursing like lava.

Suddenly the band begins to play a slow version of "
Closer
" by Tegan and Sara, something that would let me press my body to his and rock in tortuous circles with him.

I look back to him, to see if he's thinking the same thing, and he's already at my side. He takes my hand without asking and pulls me toward the dance floor once again.

Fuck my ankles, they can get over it.

We start to move together, my hands over his shoulders, his firmly on my lower back, and it's more profound than I'd expected. I haven't been able to think about anything but him for weeks, and now my body is shaking in a wonderful mix of lust and nervousness, the culmination of pent up fantasies and hope.

"I make you shake," he says.

My face turns red and hot. I was hoping he wouldn't notice that.

"I like that," he admits. His voice rumbles in ears much longer than I know is real, my mind stretching the sound of him out and replaying it.

His body fits like a puzzle to mine and I wish these clothes weren't in the way. His arms pull me in tighter and we grind hard against each other in desire.

"This isn't going to work," he says.

My heart drops. "What isn't working?"

He leans back to see my face. "Holding you like this in front of everyone—I want more and I can't have it here. I think you want more too."

"I do," I admit. "I've been waiting long enough, and I don't want to wait any more, not another moment."

Without another word, one of his strong hands closes around mine and he drags me off the dance floor heading out if the room entirely.

The lobby is full of people and loud voices. I see Charity and Justin saying goodbye to a few of their quests. She catches my eye quickly and a dirty smile spreads over her face when she sees who I'm with.

She doesn't draw any attention to us and he pulls me further, finding a hallway to a service area. Closed doors pass in an exciting flurry as my heart out-pounds my feet until he finds an unlocked room far enough away from all of the commotion.

He swings the door open wide and pushes me into a small conference room for the offices. There are two small windows on the far wall with the blinds pulled and closed. In the center of the room there's a round wooden table with four chairs; on the right of it are five stacks of bins.

His grabs me again and slams me against the closed door. He slides both of his hands around my neck and uses his thumbs to tilt my chin upward. Then, finally, his lips crash to mine and his tongue fills my mouth.

Oh God, I've dreamed about this for so long. I spread my legs open, grab his ass, and pull him in tight. I'm going to explode in a frenzy if I don't get his fucking clothes off now.

He pulls his face away from me.

"What?" I shout. "What are you stopping for now?"

Garrett grins at me wickedly. "I'm not stopping, not ever again. I've loved you from a distance long enough, Trisha—now I'm going to love you up close and personal. I only wanted to warn you."

I pull his hips in tight enough that I can feel his hard bulge on my abdomen through the dress. "Warn me about what?"

"I have nothing left to do but come after you until you are mine. I want you all to myself, and nothing is going to stop me, not even you." He moves his face closer to mine. "Now take this fucking dress off and smile because I'm going to start this by throwing your bare, hot ass on that table and making you scream with pleasure until somebody out there hears you.”

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See the next page t
o read the opening excerpt from Panther’s Heart, a new novel by Maya James.

Panther’s Heart

By Maya James

PROLOGUE

I'm completely floored right now.

This was way beyond anything I had imagined; my suspicions about the truth pale pathetically against the facts Garrett confessed to me this afternoon.

I was lost in his eyes as I have been since the day we were introduced, and the words drifting out of his gorgeous face were getting only half the attention they deserved. That's what he gets for being so damn hot. Then, as the conversation drifted into deeper waters, he drops this fucking bombshell on me and I was crying in an instant.

Crying!
I never do that—not in front of any man.

Maybe I shouldn't be so surprised at my own reaction; I knew he was different when I first saw him. It was after a long day at work where I still felt under qualified and desperate to prove myself to everyone that I could handle it, though I'll never admit that to anyone, not even to my girl Charity. She got me the job a few months ago with complete faith in my abilities and I love the way that she believes in me. Before that, I'd only been qualified as a waitress and a stand-in bartender.

Yes, I know I'm too hard on myself; I'm a bitch.

Everything has a reason. If I never waited tables, I don't end up where I'm at now, and I love where I'm at. Waiting tables introduced me to Justin Collins.

Ha! So funny how I say that—
introduced
. Apparently that's acceptable code now for having the greatest fuck of your life, the
reduce you to tears, girly parts hurt when you walk
kind of fucking. It was the only walk of shame I ever took where I wanted to run right back in and ask to have it again.

My job then was as a waitress at the Manhattan Grill, a cozy bar on a busy corner with brick interior walls and soft lighting that I still love to hang out at. In fact, I'm going there tonight with Garrett.

Holy shit! Wait until I tell you why we'll be there tonight. This shit is a crazy circle. You might not believe me, but I promise you it's true.

Anyway, Justin Collins. You know him, even if you don't. You know his type, at least the type he was back then.

Drop dead, rip your panties off without removing your pants, hump his face until he smoothers, gorgeous. Muscles, great clothes, and smells like a mother fucking piece of desert.

Do you know what I mean?

He was in the Grill all the time. I'm not shy, in case you haven't gotten that yet, but he made me nervous. Girls fell all over him and he didn't even have to work for it. I watched him leave the Grill with them in under an hour some nights, I've watched girls fight over him, and I've even seen him leave with more than one at a time—and yet I still wanted to take him home with me. I don't know what was wrong with me.

You do know him now, right?

Yeah—thought so.

Justin had this whole wounded soul thing going for him and I used it. I thought
he
used it, but it was me, and every other girl before me. We told ourselves it was his thing and it was cool, we could handle it, but the truth was we couldn't handle it, and the poor guy really was wounded and no one gave a shit.