“I didn’t plan to fuck you.” Ella blinked. “With you,” she quickly amended as she massaged away the goose bumps from her arms. “Can you come inside? It’s cold with the door open, and you’re going to freeze to death out there.”
“I’ve been in much worse conditions,” he said, not moving an inch, still a good six feet away as his eyes slowly moved up to her face.
It wasn’t raining all that hard now, but the damage was already done, and his shirt was molded to his muscular frame. Threading both hands through his wet locks, he slicked the hair away from his face, and she stilled at the way those blue eyes beheld hers.
“So, you remember this shirt?” she asked, tugging at the hemline. “This time, I wore pants.”
“I can see that,” Jesse answered as he cocked his head. “And obviously, I remember. Did you think I’d be able to forget any details from that weekend?”
She set her palms on the frame of the door, surrendering to the cold because the searing look in his eyes warmed her enough to keep her teeth from chattering. “Well, considering you haven’t talked about it in three years, I wasn’t so sure.”
“We had a deal.” His tone was low and cutting, but knowing Jesse, his anger wasn’t directed at her. It reflected an internal struggle, an “it’s not you, it’s me” thing.
“Um.” She’d come into his room intending to talk about something, right? Aside from just the kiss. But with this man dripping wet and watching her like he was about to pounce, she’d lost hold of all thoughts that didn’t result in him stripping free from those wet clothes and using her body to warm them both beneath his covers.
“What is it?” Jesse took two hesitant steps across the patio, bringing him just within arm’s reach.
Would he react if she extended some type of olive branch? Let him know this wasn’t easy on either of them, but they’d have to make it work somehow?
“I knew you wouldn’t ask A.J. or anyone to be your groomsmen,” Ella sputtered, remembering why else she’d gone to his room. “But my mom took care of it. She basically told A.J. he’s your best man. And she chose Chris and Griffin as the groomsmen.” Her stomach still squeezed from the jumble of hellish feelings that’d been trapped inside her all evening while her mom dragged her every which way to plan the wedding. “Rory, Ana, and Savanna will be at my side.” She gulped when he took another slow step. “McKenna is kind of old to be a flower girl, but she volunteered even though Beckett originally said no. And, um, Ana thought it’d be cute for baby Marcus to carry the pillow with rings and—”
“Rings,” Jesse said with a wince, obviously having forgotten that slight detail. “I’ll need to drive into the city and find some.”
“Oh.”
And why did he frown at her “oh?”
“Did A.J. refuse to be the best man?” he asked a moment later. Ella couldn’t help but notice that he’d said “the best man” rather than “my best man,” which, once again, drove home the point that this wedding wasn’t real. But then why the sad look?
“No, but I mean, you know how he feels about this whole situation. As it is, our mom is already suspicious, so if he said no to being in the wedding, Mom would, well, you know, know this is fake.”
“Right.” Jesse scratched his neck, his gaze lost to the pavers beneath his boots.
“Would you please come inside and get out of those wet clothes?” she pleaded.
Surprisingly, he followed her request, so she cleared the way for him to enter and shut the door. He stood before her for a few seconds, quietly studying her, then removed his boots and headed for the en suite.
He didn’t bother to shut the door as he stripped, and she didn’t exactly look away.
His taut back muscles flexed as he peeled off his shirt, and his strong legs appeared more muscular once his jeans were gone. He’d dimmed the lights in the bathroom, but there was enough light for her to work with—enough to provide the perfect view of strong glutes in black boxer briefs.
And then he disappeared into the closet that connected to the en suite, returning a moment later wearing a white tee and gray cotton shorts.
She resisted palming her red-hot cheeks and wondered if he noticed she hadn’t moved a single muscle during her own private Magic Mike show (minus the dancing).
“You change with the door open to screw with me?” she asked, unable to bite her tongue.
Jesse stilled in the doorway between his bathroom and bedroom and lifted both palms over his head to rest at the top of the doorframe, scrutinizing her.
In that position, the short sleeves of his tee were stretched to capacity by his biceps. She nervously waited for him to say something. Or do something. But his “grr factor” was front and center, and that damn alpha man was staring at her like he might actually toss her over his shoulder and swat her ass in the process.
She squeezed her thighs together, and Jesse’s focus lowered between her legs as if he’d noticed.
“Maybe we should just have our first kiss at the wedding. At least something will be real. You know, since it’ll be our first and last,” she decided at that moment because she was now far too nervous to have this man’s lips touch her anywhere but in public. No, if he kissed her in private, when they were alone, she’d beg him to kiss every inch of her body. And she had too much self-respect to beg him not to reject her again. Plus, if she’d learned anything from that weekend in New York, sex without commitment from Jesse hurt far too much.
“Last, huh?” He pushed back a little from the door without letting his arms fall, but his forearms and biceps flexed.
Why did that have her swallowing? She’d seen his muscles before. She’d seen him naked. Memorized the sexy V. The soft smattering of chest hair. His hard pectoral muscles. The strong quads that’d trapped her thighs so she couldn’t squirm while he made her come.
“Last,” she said again, hating that her lower lip was trembling.
He dropped his arms and walked into the bedroom, dragging his hands through his wet hair again. Those gray shorts left little to the imagination, especially after he wiped his wet palms on them. Oh, and there—there it is. She could pretty much make out every detail of his dick, and it was . . . hard.
He’d have to guess how wet she was, though, because she had no intention of letting him find out.
Jesse closed the space between them and reached around to gently tug her braid before she had a chance to realize what he was doing. The man really was fast.
He was also tall. Ella was five-six, which wasn’t short, but Jesse towered over her. He tugged her braid a bit harder to urge her chin up so her eyes would find his.
“You will kiss me before the wedding. Privately.”
“You can’t make me,” she challenged, hating her body for betraying her right now. Nipples? Harder than she’d known possible. Her sex? Hello, Niagara Falls. No need to visit there after all.
Jesse dipped in closer, drawing his face a hair’s breadth away from hers. Their eyes remained locked as he rasped, “Oh, I won’t have to make you.”
“No? How so?” Her traitorous voice barely squeaked out the words, letting him know the effect he was having on her. Every part of her.