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I don't dress fully. I pull on my shorts and slip his shirt over my bare torso and do only one button.
He dons his shorts.
We walk through the hotel to the car. And then I get inside, and I undo the button, and I'm on display for him again.
It's too hot to have sex here. But still, when he turns on the car, I undo the button of my shorts, and I do away with my swim bottoms.
He looks over with an approving smile. "Put your shirt over your lap."
I place my tank top over my pelvis. It's small, but it covers the necessary areas.
"And fuck yourself."
"While we drive?"
He nodsyes.
I think I must be going out of my mind. Because I do. I close my eyes, I slip my hand between my legs, and I stroke myself to orgasm.
It only takes a few flicks of my fingers, and I'm there, pulsing against my hand, groaning his name, desperate to unleash hours of anticipation.
It feels good, but it's not enough. I need more. I need him.
I reach for him reflexively. My hand on his thigh. Then higher. Right over the bulge in his shorts.
He shakes his head. "I want to wait."
"You want to wait?" My eyes stay on his cock. Sure, the fabric is in the way, but I can see the outline. I can feel him. "With this situation?"
He nodsyes.
"I can't wait until tonight."
"I don't remember suggesting that." He shoots me a wicked smile. "Let's go back to the hotel room."
Perfect. I nod and slip into my clothes awkwardly. The drive passes in a blink. The parking, the walk through the hotel, the elevators.
But we're not about to sail into a sea of marital bliss.
Because our families are, in fact, waiting outside our door, ready for our wedding party.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Daphne
Laurel insists on thirty minutes with me to make me over so I look like a bride. Or, as she says, "At least like someone, celebrating something."
Apparently, shorts and tank tops are not appropriate party attire.
Thankfully, Cassie comes with us. We head to Laurel's room, a small space with clothes splayed all over the king bed, and the rest of the crowd heads to the groom's rooms. They've already decorated it for a party, even though we upstaged them.
I take a quick shower, change into clean underwear, and don the fluffy hotel robe.
"I didn't get one of these." I run my fingers over the white terry cloth. "And we're in a suite."
Laurel motions for me to sit in the brown breakfast chair. She has it in front of the mirror, at a forty-five-degree angle, so I'm right in the sun.
I take the seat.
