I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Big deal. It’s a common thing with boys.”
“Funny, Max and I didn’t have that problem,” Brad goaded. “Aunt Edith, did Steven or Chris wet their beds until age nine?” My aunt stared at Brad like he’d grown antlers… God bless her.
I draped an arm around Amy’s shoulders and shrugged. “Well, good thing my penis works spectacularly now. Right, Amy?”
Mom and Aunt Edith gasped. Amy’s eyes bulged. Brad’s jaw tightened. Trixie giggled.
Mission accomplished.
As a waiter began placing salads around the table, Amy leaned into me. “I think you two are going to give your mom an aneurysm.”
I lifted a piece of her hair and twirled it. “Nah, she’s heard us say worse.” Being a mother of identical male triplets wasn’t for the fainthearted. But for her and my aunt’s sake, I’d have to make sure to use a more respectable vocabulary as I continued pushing Brad’s buttons with snide innuendos.
During the salad course, conversation continued easily around the table. I took the opportunity to push Amy’s limits with a slide of my hand under her flirty dress. No one could see what went on beneath her napkin, and she played it real cool at first. That was, until my fingertips reached lace. Damp lace. I got in a few skims before her hand clamped down on my wrist.
“Nate.” I smoothly removed my hand, and with her eyes on mine, slipped my finger into my mouth. Her eyes dropped down to my lips, which spurred me to lean closer and kiss her. When I pulled back, it looked as though she had seen a ghost. “Is something wrong?”
She placed her lips on my ear, her hand on my upper thigh, and whispered back, “Be careful. I, too, can play dirty, counselor.”
Well, fuck.
“What are you two whispering about?” Brad asked.
“None of your business.”
“Amy, how is the writing going?” my mother asked across the table. Amy filled them in on her upcoming release, and how the subject matter leaned more toward suspense than romance. That was news to me.
“So the divorce attorney is in love with the romance author,” my aunt teased. “I’d say that would make for a good book. Reform the serial bachelor.”
“Oh, we’re not in love,” Amy responded, her cockiness literally dissipating… and then glared at me when I chuckled.
Meanwhile, I smoothly lifted my bourbon and remained silent, thoroughly enjoying how the always calm, cool, and collected erotic writer proceeded to squirm uncomfortably before our dinners were served.
After a mediocre prime rib dinner, the waitstaff came by to collect our plates as the band simultaneously picked up the pace by playing a popular song. That caused the younger guests to squeal and jump out of their chairs.
“Dance with me?” Trixie begged. “I love this song.”
With a sigh, Brad wordlessly stood and appeased his date for the first time all night. That was my cue to mess around with my own.
“It’s time, Jersey.”
“Time for what?” she asked.
“You know what.”
She sliced her attention to my parents, who were chatting with my aunt and uncle. “You can’t be serious,” she whispered with a huff.
“Deathly,” I countered. Okay, that may have been an exaggeration, but my agitated cock would argue otherwise. It’d been too long, and once I put something in my mind, I always ensured it happened. Fucking Amy at that moment in time needed to happen. All eyes landed on me when I scooted my chair back and announced, “We’re going for a walk before the cake is served.”
Amy forced a smile and asked through clenched teeth, “Walking where?”
“Around the grounds. I have a cigar I’m dying to try.” I took her hand, forcing her to stand. “We won’t be long.”
“Have fun, kids,” my mom said with a wave.
Having no choice, Amy went along with my claim. But a few steps out the door, she turned and barked, “What are you doing? Are you trying to purposely embarrass me?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Bullshit. You practically finger-fucked me right there at the table, you had no problem saying that penis comment out loud, and now a walk? Your family isn’t dumb, Nate.”
“Relax. They have no clue that I’m about to fuck you like I promised.” She folded her arms and regarded me. “Say you don’t want me to, Jersey, and we’ll go back inside.” I closed the distance to wrap her in my arms. “I’m not afraid to admit that it’s been almost two weeks, and I miss you.”
“What you miss is my lower half,” she countered.
“That’s not true. I also miss these beauties.” I skimmed the back of my hand over her breast. “I miss your hands in my hair when I devour this mouth,” I added, pressing our lips together and driving my tongue in to tangle with hers. And as predicted, her fingers slid into my hair and tightened. The kiss accelerated, zero to sixty in five seconds flat. But being a few feet out the door made it necessary to halt it. “Let’s go.”
“There you are!” the mousy voice I recognized called out, turning my balls blue. “Brad sent me to look for you, Amy. The bride is about to throw the bouquet!” She then snatched Amy’s hand and dragged her back through the barn door before I could react.
Like an idiot I followed them, but when the ladies walked toward the dance floor, where my cousin Hilary stood holding her floral arrangement, I beelined for my brother. The grin on his face contradicted the scowl on mine.
“You’re an asshole.”
“Why? Is your”—he raised his fingers in air quotes—“cigar”—his hands lowered as his lips lifted into a smug smirk—“more important than having Amy participate in an important ritual every single woman needs to participate in? It’s like bad luck or something. I’m pretty sure I just saved you from a cosmic curse. You’re welcome.” I watched him reach into his pocket and pull out a white garter with a blue bow. “Oh, and you missed the first part.”
And then it hit me. In slow motion, I turned to see Amy standing front and center like a deer in headlights, just as the white rose bundle landed in her hands. The applause that broke out helped to muffle the long string of insults aimed at Brad.
It didn’t matter. The prick had outplayed me. He took it all with a smirk, and upon hearing his name, he sauntered over to where Amy was already sitting in a chair with a circle of guests surrounding her, waiting for his slimy hands to complete the stupid ritual.
I had no time to threaten his life. All I could do was watch in a haze of fury as my identical brother slowly slid the garter up my girl’s leg, going higher and higher.
The moment his hands breached beneath the hemline of her dress, I saw red. Thank Christ, Amy slapped her hand over them to stop their progression, because his colon was moments away from being introduced to the microphone stand.
Had I at times questioned my sanity after I asked Amy to this wedding? Absolutely. We were nowhere near something as personal in our arrangement.
Had I known asking her held a level of risk that could backfire? Absolutely. Any other woman would consider the request a gate opening to so much more.