One Funeral (No Weddings Book 2) (21 page)

Ozzy Osborne’s “I Don’t Wanna Stop” blared as Candie appeared in the back doorway with an arm flourish beginning at her hip and unraveling upward toward the ceiling. A strapless, figure-hugging black dress covered in glittering sequins and beads flared out at her knees. She strutted in exaggerated slow steps down the aisle, basking in all the attention aimed at her.

As a deluge of laughter threatened to explode from me, I did what any certifiably insane person would do to avoid from cracking up. I glanced at Cade.

But Cade wasn’t staring at her. His gaze was locked onto me.

Rattled enough to forget my near outburst, I smiled.

He tilted his face down a fraction but never broke eye contact as he blasted a scorching look filled with promises of all things dark and naughty my way.

My panties melted on the spot. Thank God the evidence was buried beneath blinding taffeta and a mountain of tulle.

We stared at each other until Kiki nudged me, nodding toward Candie, who was glaring at me. Clearing my throat, I risked a final quick glance at Cade.

Over Candie’s head, he mouthed, “Burlap, baby.” He smirked.

Candie took a seat on a gilded throne off to the side and a few feet forward of her casket cake. The taffeta brigade and penguin posse took smaller seats that flanked her on either side. Was this supposed to be a funeral? It felt like a comedic roast.

An older priest stepped forward, looking extremely uncomfortable, nervous eyes shifting back and forth across the room of guests. I bet he was hoping God had something better to do than pay attention to Candie’s irreverence. After he stood at the podium, he glanced back one more time at Candie, a pleading look on his face, like he was begging for a last-minute pardon. She scowled, waving him on with a hand.

He cleared his throat and turned to face the room. Lifting two index cards up, he scanned the hand-scrawled notes on one, then the other. He cast a panicked look back at Candie. She raised her eyebrows at him, setting her jaw. I got the sense that if the priest didn’t follow through, there would be two figures dressed in black, brawling on God’s altar.

On a deep breath, and after clearing his throat twice more, the priest finally began. “Thank you all for coming here tonight to celebrate the upcoming death of Candace Somerton.”

The priest droned on. I tried to pay attention, but I kept looking over at Cade. And every time I did, he stared back at me, smirking. Occasionally, I’d sneak a sidelong glance at his sisters, which helped inject some humor into the situation. They were fidgeting in their puffy dresses and stilettos more than I was.

“And so it is on this night, together with her dearest friends and family, that the—” The priest paused, furrowing his brows as he glanced at Candie while she glared back at him in challenge. He cleared his throat and continued. “That the Deathday Girl wishes you to enjoy life at a bash in her honor.”

Hoots and hollers rang out before the priest left the podium. The poor man bolted straight toward the exit, blanched white as a ghost. All the Deathday male “attendants” bent over, laughing hysterically.

Beside me, his sisters held it together out of respect for our guest of honor as Candie rushed over to us, a beaming smile on her face. “That was amazing!”

Kristen laughed. “Candie, no one will ever be remembered in death better than you.”

I fidgeted in my dress, the stiff tulle netting scratching my thighs.

Kendall pointed. “Uh, Candie? Photographers are taking pictures of your casket. Looks like they’re trying to get your attention.” One of them was snapping his fingers and waving.

“Ooo, that’s Maury from the
New York Times
obits. He promised to give me a full spread in the announcements.” She ran off toward her fawning public.

Battling with the petticoats under my skirt, I stood. Grabbing fistfuls of dress, I swished the fabric away from my itching skin.

Before I could take one step, Cade swooped in and rushed me into a semiprivate alcove. “Have to pee yet?”

“Are you planning to monitor my fluid outflow all night?”

“It’s my new mission in life.” He smirked.

I shook my head. “Your depravity knows no end.”

His electric-blue eyes flashed. “You love my depravity. And I blame the petticoats.” His gaze wandered down to my cleavage displayed by the strapless corset top of the dress.

“You seem to be distracted by something other than petticoats.”

Amusement flickered in his eyes. “You know, I’m liking this dress more and more. So what’s it gonna be? Bathroom run? Or incessant torture here with me?”

Confused, I tilted my head. “Torture?”

His brows waggled once. “Oh, yes.” He smirked as his tone deepened in seductive taunting. “Imagine warm water rushing over a cliff in the Amazon; slow swallows of rich, hot coffee; and stretching out in the soothing water of a tropical coconut-mango bubble bath.”

My eyes narrowed. I did have to pee. And the longer he harassed me, the more painfully aware I became of my near-to-bursting bladder.

“Fine. I have to pee. Happy?”

He grinned. “Immensely.”

With a big production of leaning toward me and holding out his bent arm parallel to the ground, he asked, “Shall we?”

“Escort me? Yes. Hold my petticoats? No.” I wound my arm around his and rested my hand on his forearm.

With a devilish smirk and lascivious raking of my body with his gaze, he laid a hand over mine, squeezing. “We’ll see.”

A
s it turned out, although Cade was an enormous tease, when it came right down to it, he was an even greater gentleman. He offered his gallant assistance one final time at the threshold of the ladies’ bathroom. I declined with a sweet smile.

Minutes later and, to my immense relief, what seemed like a gallon of liquid weight lighter, I found him waiting for me exactly where I’d left him.

“Didn’t you go too?” We’d lost our minds, talking about peeing in such a casual way, the topic both bizarre and oddly comfortable.

“Nope. Just because you declined, doesn’t mean I have to.”

I scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself, Cade. I’m not still thinking about your…”

He arched a brow. “Cock?”

Swallowing hard, I nodded.

“Ah, but you were.”

“I was what?”

“Thinking about it.”

My cheeks flushed hot. Damn. You’d think I’d begun menopause for how often I’d overheated tonight. And I
was
still thinking about his “massive” cock. “Well, maybe for a tiny second.”

“Nothing tiny about it, Maestro. Nor would it be thought of in a mere second. Minutes wouldn’t even cover it. I’m talking hours, and hours…”

I blinked.

With a smirk and a wink, he disappeared behind the swinging door of the men’s bathroom.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned against the wall, watching as a couple latched together arm-in-arm staggered down the hall. They split apart at the last minute, the girl heading into the ladies’ room, the man passing by me and through the men’s room door.

Seconds later, Cade pressed up beside me. “Miss me?”

I snorted. “Like a sugar-addicted kid misses the dentist.”

“Aw, come on, Maestro. You know you were obsessing about it longer than a second.”

I clamped my mouth shut and began walking down the hall.

“I bet you’re thinking about it right now, lamenting over the fact you missed the chance to hold the heavy, thick weight of it in your hand.”

Sudden wildness had me dig in the heels of my sparkling Jimmy Choos and turn to face an unmarked door while grabbing his hand in mine. I glanced over my shoulder to see the surprised look on his face.

“All right,
big
guy. You wanna show me the goods? Put your money where your mouth is.”

He laughed. “I’d much rather put my cock where
your
mouth is.”

I rolled my eyes.

Cade reached around me and turned the knob. With his eager push, we entered a pitch-black space.

I twisted around, feeling along the wall as he shut the door. “Is there a light switch?”

His hand collided with mine, then he laced our fingers together, pulling my hand between us. “No. No lights.”

“But I can’t see a thing.” Excitement tempered my mild claustrophobia, even though the shortened echoes of our voices made this seem more like a closet than a room.

“Perfect. Then just feel.” His hot breath fanned over my face, smelling of sweet Champagne.

I smiled at the thought.

Finally
. Us touching.
Really
touching.

I wanted to be here with Cade doing something spontaneous and unexpected. And somehow it didn’t matter to me in the least that we might possibly be groping in a supply closet.

A thrill skittered through me as Cade stood there holding me, running his hands up my back. Warm palms smoothed over my shoulders. A lighter touch trailed down my collarbones, falling lower.

My breath came in short pants as his adventurous fingers traced the swells above the neckline of my dress, starting at the sides, then moving inward. They met in the center before open palms cupped my breasts, kneading once before gripping even harder, pinching sensitized nipples.

I whimpered.

Cade crushed his mouth over mine, using my sound as both a locating beacon and permission.

My world now only consisted of one thing:
Cade.
In the dark space, as we clung to each other, he was all that mattered. He became everything. And the heady feeling rushed through my veins, an overwhelming drug.

My hands trembled as I unbuttoned his shirt, desperate to touch his skin. I no longer had to wonder what his chest was like. When I finally made it through, my fingers skimmed across smooth skin stretched over hard muscle.

He hiked my skirt up, breaking away from my mouth to kiss a path along my jawline, then down my neck. “Mmm…petticoats.”

As his strong hands ran up the outside of my thighs, exploring higher until he gripped my hips, I made a mental note to invest in a closet full of the fluffy underskirts.

He slid his hands back, cupping my bare ass. His mouth was everywhere—down my neck, across my chest—hot sucking kisses branding my skin with fire.

I gasped when he tugged my dress down, setting my breasts free into the chilly air. Before I could react, he dropped his hands below my ass and hoisted me up in the air while lunging forward. My back hit the wall right as he sucked a hardened nipple into his mouth and growled into my breast.

I groaned. Heat raged through my veins, aching fire licked between my thighs. Cade’s mouth on me amped my nerve endings into a sparking frenzy, and I needed more.

I slid my hands up further and pushed off his shirt and jacket together to expose his skin. Clamping onto the muscles of his shoulder, I dug my nails in, holding on for dear life as his every pull and suck drove me madder, ratcheting my need higher. Then he shifted sides, sucking the other nipple in past the hard edges of his teeth with a rasp. I gasped, overcome with staggering pleasure.

As if all of the mind-blowing wildness wasn’t enough, Cade ground his pelvis between my thighs with an erection so hard and overwhelming that I had zero doubt about his “massive” claim. Panting from pleasure, I arched my hips into him, lining him up with my throbbing bundle of nerves that ached for relief.

His movements slowed. With a low groan, he released my breast and lowered my body, dragging his lips up my neck until he found my mouth again. The kisses were unhurried, growing tender. Tentative tastes of each other’s tongues. Lingering sips and sucks.

We drifted into slow motion, a savoring of lips, of every gasp and sigh, until he pulled away and lightly touched his forehead to mine. With a firm grasp, he held me there, his body pressed flush against mine as he pinned me to the wall.

The only sounds in the room were our labored breaths. Warmth surrounded me, even though cool air feathered over my exposed skin. I wound my arms around his neck, lost in the moment, never wanting to let go.

As my breathing slowed, my pounding heart calmed. The ache between my legs lessened, marginally. His cock, however, still pressed hard into a very sensitized area. When he shifted his hips, that rigid length brushed along charged nerves. I groaned as raw pleasure spiked through me again.

“You want to hold it now, don’t you?”

I burst out laughing.

“I knew it. But I don’t think you’re ready yet.”

I snorted. “No? Didn’t we round second base? And you’re taunting me with third. Is there a level before home that I’m missing?”

He chuckled. “Maybe I’m not ready yet. If you touch me, hold me, I won’t be able to stop. And I refuse to fuck you in a closet.”

“No screaming blow job?” I teased.

He barked out a laugh. “No. You’re worth more to me than that.”

I smiled. “I like knowing that.”

His face moved, his cheek rubbing against mine. “You’re worth more to me than anyone or anything in this world. More than anyone else ever has. I know we needed this now—a taste to let off some of the pressure, distract our minds from all the crazy, pull us closer—but we’re still taking it slow. I’ve never wanted to do anything more right in my life.”