Page 27

Claire
2018
All of Bri’s bridesmaids live in Chicago, which is a few hours away, so it’s just me and Bri for the first leg of the trip. We play car games we made up when were kids and talk about the wedding. I’m only half listening, a skill I developed, being her sister. Whatever she wants to do, wherever she wants to go, I’ll agree. It’s just easier that way.
The trip flies by. Before I know it, we’re pulling in front an apartment building. As soon as we pull up, Bri’s phone chirps. Giving the screen an annoyed swipe she sighs and rolls her eyes before hitting the call button on the intercom.
“You rang?” Jaxon’s deep voice fills the back of the limo, and I have to tip my head down to hide the fact that I’m laughing.
If Bri recognizes his response as Lurch’s tagline from The Addam’s Family, she doesn’t act like it. “Driver, I have to go upstairs for a few minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Almost immediately, Jaxon’s door pops open, and I hear him climb out.
“Sara’s having a wardrobe crisis,” she says, shaking her head as the door opens.
“Want me to handle it?” I’m maid of honor, these things are my job.
“No.” Bri waves her hand at me. “You stay here—” A broad, masculine hand appears in the open door. “I’ll be right back.”
Before I can argue, Bri’s gone, leaving me alone.
The door doesn’t close behind her.
Jaxon climbs into the back of the limo, claiming Bri’s seat. Now he closes the door.
The limo is a late model stretch. There’s enough room in here for the Chicago Bears offensive line, but I suddenly feel claustrophobic. Like I can’t breathe. I aim my gaze out the window and ignore him.
“Lurch.”
Against my will, the one-word question that isn’t really a question, draws my attention. Sunglasses off, I can see his face. He looks different. His face is leaner. Harder, making me wonder where he went. What happened to him while he was gone. What he saw while he was there.
But he’s still beautiful. The way he looks at me is still the same. Direct. Intense. Like he’s trying to convey everything he is, everything he feels, through the weight of his gaze.
“I apologize if I hurt your feelings,” I say, flicking my gaze over his face. “I forgot your name.”
The air changes between us. Thickens. Heats. Makes it hard to breathe. “No, you didn’t.” His tone is low. Quiet.
“Sorry.” I look away, aim my gaze out the window again. “I have no idea who you are,” I lie, before dismissing him completely.
“Claire.”
He says my name softly, like a warning, the sound of it causes my heart to stutter and stall in mychest. Sends a flush of heat rushing through my entire body before it pools in my belly. I start counting cars as they roll past to combat the onslaught of memories.
The way his mouth followed the line of my throat, pressing and nipping its way from my collarbone to my lips.
One
His fingers, pushing past the waistband of my pajamas to brush the elastic edge of my panties before slipping inside.
Two
The heat of his fingers between my legs, the soft, deliberate trace of them along the seam of my pussy.
Three
His tongue, tracing the curve of my breast while his—