Could I pick up his tux at lunch, ha! I didn’t even eat lunch, but no matter. Monica the wonder intern was nice enough to run the errand, bringing the tux back to the office with a smile. She was the best. Simon, I’d deal with later.

I made it to the rehearsal with a few moments to spare, and as I made my way in I got a text from Simon. He was on the way. I cringed when I thought about how exhausted he was going to be after flying halfway around the world. But it wasn’t his fault his flight was delayed, and I made a mental note to go easy on him about the tux.

Greeting some of the other bridesmaids and mingling with Jillian’s family, I made my way inside the church to where she and Benjamin were chatting with the minister. Damn, that man was stunning.

Dark suit, tanned skin, that little bit of salt starting to edge out the pepper at his temples, and those eyes that were full of fun. This was the guy you wanted your guy to become one day. He winked as he greeted me, knowing full well that when he went full charm we all turned to mush.

“Hi, Benjamin,” I said, already on my way to Mushtown.

“Caroline, you’re looking lovely tonight.” He tucked me into his side with a grin, and I could feel the blood rise to my cheeks. Now I was a blushing mush. “So where is that idiot best man of mine?”

“Here! Idiot is here!” I heard, and in rushed Simon. Hair still damp from the shower, clad in his own dark suit and tie, he hurried to my side. “Hey, old man, let go of my girl.”

Shaking Benjamin’s hand, he dropped a kiss on Jillian’s cheek, then turned to me, taking me in. He reached out, hands spanning my waist, and pulled me into him. His gaze met mine, my hands resting on his chest. His face was sun kissed from the days spent on the ocean, with the tiniest of freckles here and there. Fucking gorgeous man. And the best part? The way he looked at me. Like I was the prettiest girl in the room.

“Hey, babe.”

The man was a poet.

“Hey.”

I was too.

He leaned down, eyes staying with mine until a second after his lips touched mine. His kiss was soft, featherlight. His mouth brushed against mine once, then twice, then by the third time, more than his lips got involved. His tongue darted out to gently nudge at the seam of my lips, and when they parted for him, it flicked out to taste me.

Were we in a church? I was clueless, because in that moment all I felt, all I knew was Simon. His hands restless on my waist, the planes of his strong body anywhere it was pressed against mine, the scent of his shampoo and the ever-loving Downy filling my nostrils, and his mouth bearing down on mine.

I heard coughing, and as he broke our kiss to rest his forehead against mine, I saw Jillian arching her eyebrow at us.

“Simon,” I whispered, within our bubble.

“Yes?”

“I missed you too,” I said, giving him one more quick kiss.

Grinning, he spun me so I was next to him, and we turned back to Jillian and Benjamin. And the small crowd that was watching us.

“What? I missed my girl.” He tucked me farther into his side and I smiled up at him. “Now, what are we rehearsing?” he asked.

• • •

The rehearsal went well, the dinner even better. Jillian and Benjamin had picked a beautiful restaurant, renting a private room with a rooftop terrace. Wine and champagne flowed, families mixed and mingled; it was a festive mood. Serving heavy appetizers instead of a formal sit-down encouraged everyone to get to know each other as they moved from table to table.

Simon and I stuck close to each other most of the evening, when I wasn’t assisting Jillian with last-minute details. While there were several other bridesmaids and a maid of honor, Jillian trusted me implicitly to be her eyes and ears on All Things Wedding. Which is why I was the one with the sewing kit and the hemorrhoid cream in my purse.

For puffy eyes.

In between meeting second cousins and business partners on both sides, Simon managed to steal me away for secret kisses and whispered dirty talk in every nook and cranny of that restaurant.

“What’s got into you?” I asked, breathless after a fevered kiss on the terrace. I’d come out to get some air when I was cornered against the glass railing by a handsy Wallbanger.

“Into you, now that’s sounds like a wonderful idea,” he murmured, turning me so I was facing the city. Caging me in with his arms, he pressed his body into mine. I leaned my head back onto his shoulder as he teased me with wet kisses up and down my neck.

I sighed, letting my hands reach back and tangle into his hair. “Behave yourself, mister.”

“Not a chance.” He thrust gently but insistently into my backside. My eyes popped open, as my insides went on instant clench. “I missed you. How long do we need to stay here?”

“Um, I don’t think we should leave until Jillian and Benjamin are ready. I think that’d be—wow!” My head dropped back farther as he swept one hand up from my waist to just below my breasts.

“Shouldn’t or can’t?”

I struggled to think, to stay focused.

“Uh, well, maybe we could, mmm—” I was powerless, his hands getting more sure as they began to nudge my skirt higher on my thighs. “Okay, now I think we should leave. This is crazy.”

“Atta girl.” He had me saying good-byes in less than a minute, into the elevator in three minutes, and had me in the back of a cab five minutes after that.

And when I say had me, boy, did he try.

• • •

After successfully fending off Simon’s attempts to get under my skirt in the cab, and then under my skirt while walking up our apartment stairs in front of him, I gave up all ownership of what was below my belly button when he bent me over the back of the sofa inside my apartment and removed my panties. With his teeth.

With his mother-loving teeth! I can’t even!

I’d read this particular scene in many romance novels; I’d never experienced it in real life. I always wondered how exactly that would happen. Did he take a big bite of the part over your hip? Use one canine to peel it off from the front? Sexy novels only mentioned teeth, so would lips be cheating? And speaking of cheating, if he used his hands to assist, but the teeth were the primary method for panty removal, would that be legal?

Romance novels, schmomance novels, here’s how Wallbanger does it.

Hands went inside my skirt from either side as soon as we cleared the front door. As he guided me backward through the darkened apartment, his mouth was on my neck and his hands inside my bra, when the back of my thighs met the sofa.

Which I then had the honor of feeling with my eyeballs when I hit the pillows face-first, after he’d spun me and pushed me over the arm with my bum in the air. Think I even noticed that I had a forehead full of sofa? Hell no, I had a Wallbanger kneeling between my legs.

Wet kisses were smacked along the back of my legs as my skirt was lifted and placed out of his way. I felt his hands nudging my knees apart, felt his warm breath on the inside of my thighs as his fingers dipped inside the lace of my panties. Had I dressed up for my man? Oh hell, yes.

White. Lacey. Sweet. Guaranteed to make him pant. Which he was doing now, heavily. He kissed me through the silk, his tongue pointed and strong even through the barrier. I cried out, having been ready for that mouth ever since he pushed me up against the railing in the restaurant.

With his hands wrapped around my waist, he pressed down on the small of my back, angling me toward his face. Growling—and I swear that’s the only way I can describe the guttural noises coming from the back of his throat—he grasped the top of my panties in his teeth and tugged. Down my thighs and toward my knees, and that’s as far as they went, because: Simon. Was. Impatient.

With my ass in the air and my panties at my knees, he groaned.

“Mmm, there’s that sweet pussy.”

Not all men can handle the P-word. And boy, is that a mouthful. Ahem. Some say it all the time, some use it in common conversation. But a good P-word is all about placement: when to say it, where to say, how to say it. Dirty talk is an art. Do it too often, it becomes routine. Never do it, and you’re missing something. Simon did it just right. He was like a perfect bowl of smutty porridge: just right. Let’s get back to that mouthful . . .

I was done for even before his lips hit mine. And I meant that exactly how I said it.

There are nights when I need it slow. And there are nights when I need it sweet. And then there are nights when I need it fast and filthy.

Guess which night this was?

I came twice on his mouth. And twice more when he stood, unzipped, and plunged into me with one swift stroke. With one hand flat on my back and the other pulling my hair to angle me exactly how he needed it? Hell, yes.

It was deep and hard and intense. And so very fast and filthy.

Was I still wearing my heels when he finally brought it on home and shouted my name? Good gracious, yes.

• • •

Later on, piled into a pile on the couch with Simon using my hip as a pillow, I heard my phone ringing. Which was in my purse, barely inside the door. I lifted my head, looking over my shoulder and reaching with my hand. Knowing it was still ten feet away.

“I can’t reach my phone.”

“You don’t need your phone.”

“But it’s ringing.”

“Pretty sure it’s not,” he insisted, twisting around behind me.

The phone stopped ringing and I sank back against the cushions. Then it promptly starting ringing again.

“I can’t reach my phone,” I repeated dumbly. Being plowed like that will make you a little thick in the head. “Hey, did you just bite me?”

“You don’t need your phone. And yes, I did. I’ve got two scoops of delicious staring me right in the face.”

He had indeed bitten one of the two scoops. I rolled my eyes, and tried to actually go for the phone.

“Don’t take away my scoops, Caroline, I’m warning you.”

“Oh, scoop this,” I teased, managing to sneak out from under him and hobble over to my purse, pulling my skirt down as I went. As I dug for my phone, I looked back at Simon, prone on the couch still with his pants around his ankles.

“You look charming, babe.”

“Charm this,” he mimicked, gesturing to a very specific part of his body.

With a laugh, I looked at my phone, seeing that it was Sophia. It was after midnight. I frowned and called her back.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Why does there have to be something wrong?” Her voice was low.

“How long have I known you? What’s wrong?”

She didn’t say anything, but I could hear her. Sniffling.

“Is it the wedding?”

Sniff.

“You don’t think you want to go?”

Sniff sniff.

“Because you’re gonna see Neil?”

Honk. Kleenex, not car.

“Sweetie, you know you have to go, right?”

Sniff.

“Not just because Jillian’s expecting you, but because you have to see him eventually and—”

Angry honk!

“Do you want to come over? I made chocolate chip cookies last night.”

Jingle jangle. This was the sound of Simon’s pants being buckled as he blazed a trail into the kitchen.

“No, I’ll be okay. God, this just sucks, though!” she finally said, blowing her nose again loudly.

“It totally sucks, sweetie, but you’re going to be fine. You’re a badass—I’m actually scared of you,” I said.

“That’s because you know I could kick your ass.” She snorted. “Is he bringing someone?”

“Yes.”

“Shit. I totally need to go, don’t I?”

“You totally do,” I responded, biting down on my lip. Did I dare? “Besides, think how disappointed Barry Derry would be.”

Silence.

Then peals of laughter broke across the line. In between, she told me she loved me and would see me tomorrow. Then she hung up, still laughing.

I made my way into the kitchen to see Simon with his hands in the cookie jar. I shook my head, then poured him a glass of milk.

“It’s criminal how much I love you right now,” he said, his mouth full of cookie and smile.

I stood next to him while he finished his midnight snack, and as soon as he was done, I opened his arms and wrapped them around me. Cuddling me into his chest, he kissed the top of my head as I held on as tightly as I could.

The next day would bring all sorts of excitement, but tonight I had my Wallbanger in my bed. And that was all I needed.

• • •

Text from Caroline to Mimi:

You gotta watch our girl today—she’ll tell you she’s fine, but she’s not.

Oh boy, what happened?

Just watch her.

Done. How’s Jillian?

Radiant.

Naturally.

We’re heading over to the church in a few hours.

I’ll watch our girl, you go be a bridesmaid.

Text from Mimi to Sophia:

Hey, pretty girl, you still want to ride with us to the wedding?

Yep, just pick us up on your way.

You’re still bringing Barry, right?

Yep, just pick us up on your way.

How’re you feeling?

Mimi.

Yes?

Just pick us up on your way.

Ooookaaaaay.

Text from Simon to Neil:

You still down for windsurfing tomorrow?

Dude! It’s gonna be freezing, no way.

Pussy.

Dude. It’s gonna be freezing.

Pussy. See you at the wedding.

Hey, about that, should I bring my gift there or what?

We have to get them a gift? Hang on . . .

Text from Simon to Caroline:

Did we get them a gift?