He ran the backs of his fingers softly against her cheek, watching as she leaned into him, her eyes floating closed for a brief second as she whispered, “You may kiss the maid-of-honor.”
“Now that makes me unbelievably happy,” he said, gathering her in his arms, tugging her beautiful body close to his, and brushing his lips gently across hers. She gasped lightly when he made contact, that involuntary sound the most perfect reminder of why he’d listened to Chris and McKenna, snapped up a ticket, and flew across the country. Why he took the chance once again with Julia. He could pretend he was doing this for a client, simply responding properly to an invitation for a social occasion. He knew better than to lie to himself. He was doing this because he’d made the choice to trust her. The alternative—being without her—was too much to bear.
But he was also choosing to let go of the past. He wasn’t going to blame Julia for Sabrina’s problems, nor punish himself either by reassigning them to her. The month apart from her—all talk and no contact—had reset his head in some unexpected way, reassuring him that he could try again.
By God, how he wanted to try again as she melted into him, her body so tantalizingly close as they kissed under the sun, surrounded by wedding guests who surely didn’t care what two random people were doing because they weren’t the bride and the groom. They were the maid-of-honor and the man who had to have her, no matter the cost. He kissed her tenderly at first, light and soft as the moment called for, here on the bluff, San Francisco Bay waves rolling on by. But as she inched closer to him, pressing the full length of her gorgeous frame against his, the gentleness fell away. A groan worked its way up his chest. He pulled her harder, needing her as close as could be, needing her mouth. She whimpered and parted her lips, inviting him to taste more. He explored her with his tongue, kissing her the kind of way two lovers kiss when they haven’t seen each other in a month.
What a long, hard month it had been. She wriggled her h*ps subtly against his cock, which was straining now against the zipper of his pants. The barest of contact with his erection sent his body spinning. “Julia,” he whispered harshly, her name a warning.
Her mouth fell away from his, and she brushed her lips along his jaw, up to his ear. “I want you,” she said, in a hot murmur. “I want you now.”
Nothing else mattered but grabbing her hand, and finding the nearest coat closet so he could slam the door and take her.
But the second he laced his fingers through hers, someone tapped on her shoulder.
“Picture time!”
The bride was beaming, and her smile could light up a midnight skyline, he reckoned. But then, that’s how it should be on your wedding day.
Julia brushed her hand once over the front of her dress, as if she were smoothing it out, then McKenna caught Clay’s eye.
“You made it,” she shrieked, then threw her arms around his neck. He angled himself so she couldn’t feel his hard-on. The last thing he needed was the bride thinking he was a pervert, or telling the groom that his new lawyer had been sporting wood.
“Congratulations, McKenna. I’m so happy for you and Chris,” he said, and when she pulled away he continued. “And I donated to the New York City ASPCA in your honor.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to,” she said, then patted the outside of her leg, and a blond Lab-Hound-Husky arrived at her side, parking herself perfectly in a sit. “But Ms. Pac-Man thanks you.”
“She’s even cuter in person,” Clay said, gesturing to the dog, before he extended a hand to the groom, congratulating him as well on the nuptials.
Soon, McKenna scurried her sister, her husband and her dog away for photos. Julia leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek before they headed to the bluff for a round of pictures.
Clay took a deep breath, and hoped the photographer made quick work behind the lens.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
Clay turned to see his buddy Davis. “Hey man,” he said, clapping his friend on the back, though Davis was joking—Clay had told him the other night that he’d be at the wedding. Davis was here with Jill, the groom’s sister.
“Guess we’re the odd men out,” Davis said, tipping his forehead to the wedding party that included the women both of them were involved with.
Wait. Was he involved with Julia again? Or was it crazy to think that, given the track record they both had of running? He didn’t know what they were, or what they would be.
“Yep. Looks like we are,” Clay said. “Think this’ll be you anytime soon?”
Davis nodded, a sneaky glint in his eyes. “As a matter of fact, I believe I will be popping the question at the Tony Awards next month.”
Clay smiled widely, then hugged his friend. “Congrats, man. That’s fantastic. You two are great together.”
“I think so too.”
As he chatted with Davis, neither of them did a very good job of looking anywhere but at the wedding party, Davis’s eyes on Jill, Clay’s on Julia. There was something both peaceful and right about this moment, this wedding, these people he barely knew who’d invited him into their most important day. It felt fitting to be here, and soon the gorgeous redhead would be back by his side where she belonged.
* * *
There was no time for a quickie. The moment the photographer had finished shooting the wedding party, the cocktail hour started, as waiters passed out flutes of bubbly champagne. The festivities had moved inside to a gorgeous reception room with a baby grand piano and floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the water. The decor reflected the bride’s and groom’s passion for games and animals with the name cards at place settings stamped with Mr. Monopoly, and the centerpiece flowers boasting a wooden cutout of a hound dog.