Paige approached with a tiny smile on her face. “You can go,” she told me.
“Really?”
She nodded. “They’re done with the family pictures. You have about thirty more minutes before we’ll need you lined up for the reception.”
Instantly, I kicked off my shoes, only stopping to scoop them up by the strap. I clutched the hem of my dress and ran across the grass to the sound of Paige’s laughter.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Isabel
It didn’t take me long to find him. I’d slowed to a fast walk, barefoot as I crossed the lobby of the hotel into the reception area. It was dimly lit, tall tables circling the perimeter of the room for guests to mingle and have a cocktail while they waited for the wedding party to arrive. Along the edges and in corners of the room were soft places to sit, some draped in white gauze, lending a magical atmosphere along with the hundreds of candles, the twinkle lights swooping down the ceiling.
Aiden stood toward the edge of the room talking to Luke Pierson, one of Logan’s former teammates. Next to them, her arm curved around Luke’s waist, was Allie Sutton-Pierson, the owner of the Wolves and one of Paige’s best friends.
Allie said something that made the men laugh, and her face lit into a brilliant smile when she saw me. “Iz, you look gorgeous.”
When I hugged her, I glanced quickly at Aiden. “Thank you. Did the girls come with you?”
Luke shook his head. “Faith and Lydia decided a weekend at Grandma’s was a lot more fun than a wedding.”
“How old are your kids?” Aiden asked. I slipped next to him, and my breath caught when he casually folded his hand through mine.
Allie noticed and gave me a pointed look. I had to bite down on my lip so as not to burst into laughter. None of these people had ever seen me in a relationship, and you could freaking tell by their absolute lack of chill.
“Faith is sixteen, Lydia is almost eleven, and I have never felt older in my life than I do when I say that out loud,” Luke admitted.
Aiden smiled. “My daughter is seven, so I get it.”
It was hard to focus on what they were saying because I was standing next to Aiden, holding his hand and chatting with family friends like absolutely nothing was strange about that. My impatience to be alone with him must’ve shown because Allie gave me a tiny wink and then tapped her husband’s chest. “You know, my glass is empty. Buy me a drink?”
He smiled down at her. “Logan’s buying. Hell yeah, I’ll buy you a drink.”
They wandered off, and I let out a deep breath. “Did you get something at the bar?” I asked.
Glancing at me with warm, humor-lit eyes, he tilted his head toward a table. “It’s over there.”
Aiden pulled us away from the milling groups of people to a corner that held a white couch just big enough for two. His jacket was hanging over the arm, like he made sure to stake a claim to this slightly private spot. He slid into the corner and stretched one arm over the back of the couch. Instead of joining him right away, I took a moment to study him like that, lounging like a great big cat.
His long legs were slightly spread, and it was so easy to imagine if we were alone. Judging by the look in his green eyes, he was doing some imagining of his own.
My skin heated under his perusal, tightening underneath the silky fabric of my dress where I wanted his hands. If we were alone, I’d slide the dress up over my thighs and climb into his lap, smooth my hands up his chest, let those large, capable hands hold me in place, and his mouth find the parts of me that tasted best.
Aiden exhaled a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “You keep looking at me like that, and we’re going to cause trouble.”
I blinked slowly, coming out of my stupor. Carefully, I took a seat next to him, tucking one leg underneath me so I could angle in his direction. His fingers slid over my shoulder blade and toyed with the ends of my hair.
Then he paused, reaching for a tall glass on a table next to the couch. My eyebrows bent in when he handed it to me.
“Screwdriver?” I asked. “I didn’t peg you as a mixed drink guy.”
Without a word, he motioned for me to take it. Our fingers brushed as I took the glass, and after I took a sip, his eyes warmed.
“Orange juice?” I asked, mouth widening into a massive smile.
Aiden retrieved the glass and took a drink. I licked my lips as he set the glass down. He leaned in, angling his back so he was blocking me from view, and he took my mouth in a voracious, toe-curling kiss that tasted like bright citrus and held the promise of sex. I was ready to climb him by the time he pulled away.
“Orange juice,” he said.
“I’ll make a note for work.” This level of happiness should be illegal.
“You’re okay with sitting in the corner with me at your sister’s wedding?” he asked.
With a glance around, I saw only a few people who I probably should have been making small talk with. Finally, I looked back at Aiden and studied his handsome face.
“Completely okay,” I told him. “I’d rather talk to you.”
Because I could, I touched my thumb to the bottom curve of his lip and swept it softly over the stubble that lined his jaw. I loved that he hadn’t shaved for this. It made him look a little dangerous, or maybe that was just how I felt being with him like this. The entire thing felt too big to be real, to be safe.
Could two people survive this level of sexual tension? Because I wasn’t sure we could.
“What do you want to talk about?” he asked. He took my hand away from his mouth and kissed the tip of my thumb before settling it on his rock-hard thigh, fingers lightly entwined with mine.
So many questions I could ask. Some that could wait, a couple that couldn’t.
I took a deep breath and asked the first thing on my mind. “Is this … our first date?” I looked at him from under my lashes.
“You don’t count changing the fuse?”
With a grin, I shook my head. “No.”
“Your night at my house?”
I gave him a dry look.
Aiden hummed. “What about our first training session?”
Slowly, I raised my eyebrows. I know I’d felt like the slightest touch from him that night would’ve made me explode, but I was never certain if he’d felt the same.
“Maybe,” I conceded.
“First dates are about figuring out the person you’re with,” he said. “I learned a lot about you that night.”
“Like …?” My voice trailed off.
His fingers dragged along my back, and I shivered. “You don’t like to burden people with what’s bothering you. Talking about it probably makes it worse.” At the accurate statement, I lifted my chin slightly. He kept going. “You couldn’t decide whether you loved it or hated it that I’d been watching you that closely and you didn’t realize it. Normally you’ve always got a bead on what’s happening.”
“True,” I conceded. “What else?”
“When it surfaces, you harness your anger into something productive, something tangible, probably so that you don’t lash out at the people around you.”
I fidgeted on the couch, my breath coming a bit faster that he’d picked up all of that just from one night.