Honey Red (19 page)

“Hang on son. Hang on. I promise, we are going straight there. Just give me a minute.” He tapped out a reply to her:

“No. Thank you. I had a great time. And yes, you’re right. I promise to keep it all business from now on.”

“Holy shit, yes! Oh my, god…Ian.” Hannah shuddered, gripped his shoulders as he held her up against the wall of his pitch-black office. The smell of their lust combined with the usual brewery odors of malt and yeast, made him groan and bury his nose in her neck. He licked the sweat, loving her taste, feel, and her words in his ear.

Three days after their first encounter, they’d hosted a beer dinner and kept their distance for the entire time, the chilly air between them nearly visible. After she’d bid the last of the one hundred people good bye he’d escaped back to his office and tried to get his bearings. She looked like a million bucks, in a sleek, green, simple dress, that thick, amazing hair cascading around her freckled shoulders. He’d nursed a near hard on the entire two hours, and it was pissing him off completely. He sat, staring at emails without seeing them until he figured she’d left. When her hand touched his shoulder like he somehow knew it would, he jumped up, grabbed her arms and pinned her against the wall. He shoved his tongue between her lips and yanked her skirt up without a word and she offered no protest. If anything she ripped at his clothes with even more gusto.

“Come,” he commanded, whispering in her ear. He shifted her legs up higher around his waist, giving him an even better angle. She pulsed around him as she threaded her fingers in his hair.

“Ah, yes,” she sighed as he pressed deep, giving her clit contact with his pubic bone. His own orgasm hovered, but he wrestled it back.

She looked up, let her hands drop to his shoulders as her breathing calmed. He tilted her face down and stared at her. “Just this once more, okay?” he croaked out.

“Yeah,” she whispered, biting his earlobe and yanking his shirt up. She ran her hands across his chest, flicked her fingers across his nipples, making him shudder. “Handy, having condoms in your desk drawer. You do this a lot?”

He sighed and pulled her away from the wall, carrying her, and kissing her neck until he found the desk. Keeping their bodies connected, he leaned over her as she dropped back to her elbows.  “If I told you I brought them in today…just in case….” He groaned when she bent one long leg up against his chest, drawing him in deeper. “Jesus, Red you are like…some kind of addiction.” He closed his eyes, kept thrusting his hips and let her lean up to bite down on his nipple. “Fuck,” he muttered as she tightened around his cock. “Gonna come.” He whispered. “Kiss me.” He said.

She raised her lips to his and he tasted her as his vision dimmed and the orgasm roared up his spine and exploded across his brain. They stayed there, clinging to each other as their heartbeats calmed. She broke away first, kissing him gently as he pulled out of her.

“I’d say you were a liar,” she said, rearranging her disheveled dress and hair.

“Huh?” he rubbed his face, still addled and buzzy from the orgasm.

“I’d say if you told me you brought those condoms in today, just in case…I’d say you were lying.”

“Oh, well, I’m not.” he said, tugging the condom off and wrapping it in a tissue before flopping into a chair. He grabbed her hand so she couldn’t walk away and drew her down to his lap, kissing her nose, cheeks and lips. “Come home with me tonight.” He whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“No,” she said, as she snuggled into his embrace. “No more sleepovers. If we’re gonna fuck with some sort of regularity that’s fine. But I have zero interest in anything more.”

He leaned back narrowing his eyes at her. “Well, that’s different.” He said, putting his thumb over her kiss-swollen lips.

“How’s that,” she bit his finger, grinning then jumped up and found her shoes.

“A woman who just wants to just fuck…maybe I want you to sweep me off my feet, romance me, buy me flowers?” He smiled but his gut was churning. What was his problem?

“Sorry doll,” she patted his cheek. “I never promised romance. Besides,” she leaned down giving him a lovely view of her lush breasts, “you don’t want that from me, remember? You have someone else in mind for feet sweeping duty. Or had you forgotten about him?”

Something in her voice made him stand and grab her arms. “For your information Nick and I have come to an understanding. We are … friends and nothing more. Not even with any benefits. He has some other guy handling that for him now.” He let go, his face hot with fury and something resembling embarrassment.

“Oh,” she said, lightly but with an undertone of something he wanted to latch on to.

“What are you doing December twentieth? Around four?” He leaned back on the desk where he’d just fucked the lovely woman now standing in front of him. “Got a nice dress?”

“I don’t know. And why?” She matched his pose.

“My brother is getting married, and I would like for you to accompany me. As my ….”

She breached the small distance between them. Put her fingers over his lips. “Don’t say it.” She replaced her fingers with her lips briefly. “I’ll come with you to the wedding. But it’s not a date. Got it? Just friends. A favor because you can’t find anyone else.” Her eyes were hard.

“Fine, whatever.” He shrugged away from her. “Good luck tomorrow.”

She gave him an odd look. “Um, thanks. What for?”

“Your interview? Real marketing job with deep pocketed auto company?” His chest hurt as he looked at her but he forced his voice to stay calm and non-committal.

“Oh, yeah, that. Thanks.” She turned, opened his office door and walked out without another word.

Ian sat for nearly thirty minutes trying like hell to square his thoughts, about the woman—and the man— in his life. And honestly wondered how in the world he could ever be happy with either one of them given his own inability to decide, as his brother so eloquently put it, which fucking team he batted for.

Chapter Nineteen

Ian smiled down at Jamie, dressed in his suit, standing beside him and Gavin as they waited for Alyssa to make her appearance at the back of the chapel. The little boy tugged on his trouser leg, whispered loud enough for the first three rows to hear—“Daddy. What are we waiting for? I’m hungry. You said there was cake. Can we have cake now? Is Santa coming? You said he might! Remember?”

The crowd tittered a little nervously. Ian patted his son’s head and leaned into Gavin’s ear. “Uh, is everything okay?” Gavin frowned at him, shot his cuffs and shrugged at the justice of the peace who smiled. Ian felt the stress oozing from his twin brother’s pores. “I’m gonna go….”

“Yeah, thanks.” Gavin muttered, keeping his eyes trained to the back of the room. The rehearsal had gone off without a hitch, the dinner was fun and relaxed. Nothing indicated that Alyssa was having second thoughts. But she did look more stressed around the edges than Ian cared for, although he told Nick she looked “just fine.”

He’d been with his fuck buddy Jake, and Ian had been unable to tear his eyes from the guy’s six-foot stockiness. The jerk was handsome, charming to a fault to everyone and attentive to Nick just enough to make it clear who was with whom. He’d shot Ian a couple of funny looks, and Ian mentally cursed for not insisting that Hannah come with him to that stupid event too. But she’d begged off, telling him going to a wedding was bad enough—she hated the damn things and was not about to drag out the agony by going to a rehearsal for it too.

He let his eyes pass over the man in question, sitting near the back dressed in an impeccable dark blue suit, his long brown hair pulled back with a small strip of leather. The guy met his eyes and nodded curtly before training his eyes to the front that was still devoid of a bride. Ian spared a second of admiration for the elegant simplicity of the Michigan League room Lyssa and Gavin had chosen. It was lit by about a million candles, with red roses tucked into holiday-style greenery arrangements along the strip of white that led up to where his brother stood nervously running a hand through his hair.

Ian couldn’t really fathom what sort of planning and detail had gone into such a simple looking set up but he knew one thing—if Gavin’s fiancé did not appear soon at the back of the room, the guy was gonna lose it. He watched as his son slipped his small hand into his uncle’s making Gavin start and look down at his nephew, a smile playing around his lips as he knelt down to talk to the boy. Gavin’s sons were there too, providing a bit of moral support.

 Ian’s heart pounded as he slipped into the back room designated as the bride’s. He saw Alyssa, in Nick’s arms, her shoulders shaking. Nick lifted his face when Ian shut the door behind him, then motioned him closer as he kept talking to her. “Shh, Alyssa, listen, it’s gonna be fine. Please. You love him. There is no reason to be so upset. Since when do you break down like this, I mean come on….” Ian could tell that Nick was having a tough time keeping a reign on his own stress. Between the two of them they were not helping each other at all.

Ian made his way towards them while Nick rubbed his sister’s back. Her sniffles sent a shaft of anxiety to Ian’s brain. “What’s up in here?” he said, keeping his voice light. “There are approximately a hundred and fifty people out there waiting to see you but one in particular who’s sweating through his tailor made tuxedo. As the best man in the general vicinity I was sent as a peace envoy to determine the state of the bride’s condition.”

Alyssa shrugged out of Nick’s embrace and turned towards the window where snow was falling as if ordered up by the wedding planner, covering the campus of the University of Michigan with a soft white blanket. Her shoulders and hands shook. Ian stood next to Nick. “What’s up,” he whispered.

“I have no idea.” Nick said looking helpless and pissed off in equal measure. The dog was whining and bumping against Nick’s leg, as if trying to get him to fix whatever was wrong with Alyssa.

“Will you guys stop staring at me like I’m a circus side show?” Alyssa demanded, fists clenched at her sides. Ian took a breath and just watched her pace. She was breathtakingly gorgeous in her cream colored, classic, figure-hugging dress that left no doubt the woman was pregnant. But it worked for her. She looked lush, full, sexy, if about to shatter into a million pieces. “I mean, shit, you know what I mean.”

Nick sighed and sank into a chair, running a hand down his face. “Honey,” he said, “What is it? Everything is fine. The reception is set. I know you must look great. I….”

She whirled around, her fancy updo starting to wilt, her eyes full of tears. “I don’t know. Don’t you get it? I’m a fucking basket case. I can’t even enjoy this day—my day—I cry at the drop of a hat and the thought of walking out there and doing this is making me want to claw my skin off. Jesus.”

“Uh, yeah,” Ian glanced over at Nick who mouthed “Get Gavin,” at him. He nodded and shot Hannah a text to get Gavin back here, and bring Jamie, too. Within a few minutes of Alyssa pacing in silence while Ian and Nick stood shoulder to shoulder watching her, the door flew open.

“Alyssa,” Gavin barked. “What in the hell?” He stepped back when she flew at him.

“Damn you, Donovan. I don’t want to be pregnant. I mean, I’m glad and I…shit, fuck, hell.” She pounded on his chest a minute, then gripped his lapels and hid her face in his chest. Gavin looked over her shaking shoulder at Ian, who shrugged, and tucked his hands in his pockets. He saw Hannah lurking near the door, Jamie hanging on to her hand, his eyes wide at the outburst. He smiled, noting how amazing the lovely red-head looked in a simple, shimmery, sheath dress.