“Hold that thought until we’re back from the wedding. We gotta eat this and then you gotta get to Bendels and then we gotta go downtown for a late lunch and then come back here to get ready and walk to the park and be there beforefive.”
I unhand his zipper. “Yessir.”
“Sorry. My parents called this morning and I guess I’m just anxious about seeingeveryone.”
“Okay. I understand. I mean—obviously I’m deeply disappointed that I don’t get to give you a blowjob until the end of the day, but I’ll get over it eventually.” I take a big bite ofbagel.
He laughs. He comes over and kisses me on the cheek. “I’m so glad you’rehere.”
Chapter 16
*Erin*
Istandat the large window, admiring the expansive view of Central Park while I nurse my mini bar beer. I am dressed and ready for the wedding event, my hair is fashioned into a classy updo that I can just barely pull off, and now I only need help zipping up the back of this seven hundred dollar royal blue cocktaildress.
While I was in the dressing room at Bendel’s today, I received a text from Maya that said:Don’t forget to TREAT YO’SELF!
I wrote back:Girl, you have noidea.
This dress hugs my curves, creates curves that I didn’t know I had (actually it’s probably all the New York food Scott’s been feeding me), and it forces me to watch my posture. I sort of like that it feels like a costume, because this whole trip only makes sense if I tell myself that it isn’t really me here experiencing all of this. It’s New York Me. Here with New York Scott. Despite the fantastic day we’ve had, I still need to dull my nerves a bit before facing Braddock’s entire extended family. I hear him come out of the bathroom and pour himself a drink. I don’t turnaround.
“I wish I could stop thinking about you,” he says, so quietly it’s as though he’s talking tohimself.
“What?” I tilt my head in his direction a tiny bit, still not facinghim.
He takes a sip of his drink, then says clearly but quickly: “I think about you all thetime.”
Gulp.
I press the fingers of my free hand against the window, to steady myself. Where is this comingfrom?
“Ever since I met you back in Boston,” he continues. “Why isthat?”
“Um. Obsessive-compulsivedisorder?”
He doesn’tlaugh.
“What exactly are you drinking overthere?”
“I know you think about metoo.”
I say nothing. I close my eyes and rest my forehead against the window. I hear him put his drink down on the counter. He walks over and stands behind me. I feel his hands on my hips, his breath on myneck.
“It’s not just the sex. It’s not just that you’re beautiful.” He zips up the back of my dress, even though his voice feels like it’s undressing me. “It’s not just that you’re smart and talented and funny. He stays behind me and places his hands on my hips, gently kisses the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulders. I get that feeling in my pelvic area, like I’m on a roller coaster, about to take a plunge at full speed. “It’s not just this body, the way it fits with my body.” His hands move up to cup my breasts, and although it is so unfair of him to do this to me minutes before we have to leave for his family wedding, I lean back into him. He caresses me. “Thinking about you makes me feel good,” he whispers into my ear. I want so badly to kiss him, but I spent five minutes applying bright red MAC lipstick, and I am not going to mess it up and do it again. “Thank you for coming with me,” he says. “It means alot.”
“I’m glad I did,” I say. He seems so vulnerable rightnow.
“Just know that if anyone tonight seems rude, it’s not you, that’s just what they’relike.”
“Okay.” I take another careful sip ofbeer.
He removes his hands from my body. “You ready togo?”
I finally turn to face him. He is wearing a fucking tuxedo, and it literally takes my breath away. Thank God I didn’t see him when he was touching me, because I would have flooded my panties and climbed him like a tree. He looks like he was born in a tux. He should never wear anything else. I accidentally make some weird groaning sound, because holy hunkballs, I would do anything and go anywhere with him right now and it truly sucks that we have to go to a formal event surrounded by people who would probably not appreciate it if I gave him a hand job under thetable.
“You look stunning,” he says, taking the bottle of beer fromme.
I decide to say something genuine to his face, for a change. “So doyou.”
