Soul Rest: A Knights of the Board Room Novel (41 page)

His lips did curve then, and she shook her head. “Fucking impossible.”

“What?” A silken black brow lifted.

“No man should be as sexy as you are. Tomorrow I bet you’ll wear some kind of perfectly cut tux, and every woman will be having fantasies about you.”

“Not every woman. Marcie will probably be thinking about Leland. She’s always had the hots for him.”

“Well, that ‘ho’ can just keep her greedy little paws to herself, or you two can limp up the aisle together.” Celeste bared her teeth.

“So it’s like that.”

“I don’t know.” She emulated his pose, staring up at the back of the house. The guest bedroom window was at the far end. “I never thought I’d feel that way. I met him barely over a week ago. He took me to a country bar and sang to me.”

“That bastard. He doesn’t play fair.”

She poked him in the side with her elbow, but kept her gaze on the house. What she wanted to ask, she didn’t think she could if she was looking at him.

“You remember the safe word you wanted me to use that night? The word you knew I needed to say, but it hurt too much.”

“I remember.” His voice was warm and reassuring now, a friend concerned about her care. As he crushed out his cigarette and braced an arm behind her, she found herself leaning against the inside of it, a comfortable companionship. She drew her knees up, locked her fingers around them the way he had his own earlier.

“When I look at Leland, I keep thinking of that ridiculous phrase, ‘Who’s your daddy?’” She gave a half chuckle. “If you tell him that, I will kill you.”

“I’m getting a lot of threats tonight. And I’m just sitting here, not bothering anyone.”

“I know. It makes all of us nervous. It’s so not you.” Then she looked up at his amused face and pursed her lips. “No. I take that back. You look…okay. Like you’re totally you tonight. Nothing added, nothing put on. It’s a good look for you.”

Reaching down, he tugged on the hem of Leland’s shirt, a good foot of the tails extending out from under her pullover to layer over her pajama bottoms. “This is a good look for you.”

“Oh, yeah. I plan to wear this to the wedding. Marcie will be so pissed that I outshone her.”

He smiled, but she saw the measured calculation in his eyes as he gazed at her. She tried to conceal the little shiver it gave her low in her belly, because it was undoubtedly his Dom look. “You’re not quite reconciled to it yet,” he decided. “Being who you really are with him. But you’re closer to it than you’ve ever gotten, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” she said simply. “Any advice so I don’t hurt him, or do something really stupid?”

Ben tilted his head, lifted a shoulder. “Just more of the same. Be who you are, Celeste. If he can’t handle that, he’s not the right one anyway. People like us, we spend a lot of time covering who we are, because we think that’s something no one will want. But the person who gets past all that not only shows us different, they’ll help you let some of that go, so you can finally accept you’re worth loving. And that, in turn, helps you live up to it. It’s funny, but when someone accepts you for everything you are, the good and the bad, you stop worrying so much about the bad and focus on strengthening the good. Matt and the other guys helped me with that first, and gave me enough of it I could accept the rest of it with Marcie.”

She met his gaze with a searching one of her own. “Does it help you believe it? Really believe it, the way they do?”

“Not all the time, but I’m closer than I’ve ever gotten to it. Else I couldn’t say it aloud like that. Therapy. It makes me say all sorts of shit, like a psychobabble form of Tourette’s.” He gave her a wry look.

She put her head on his shoulder and then, on impulse, hugged him, pleased when he put his arm around her and did the same, dropping a kiss on top of her head.

Ben’s male strength and masculine scent made her realize, tired or not, she wanted to be back beside Leland, holding on to him as he slept, feeling his arms around her. “I’m going to go back to my man, before someone looks out here and thinks the groom is having a make-out session with a sexy woman in flannel PJ’s and sweatshirt.”

“It’s all right. My bride is sitting in her window seat, so we have a chaperone.”

Celeste turned and looked. She couldn’t see through the sheers over Marcie’s window, but Ben apparently had better eyes than she did. Or maybe Marcie had had her light on earlier and he deduced she was still there. One thing Celeste had no trouble seeing was the quiet, fierce love in Ben’s eyes as he kept them fastened on that window. “I think she’s fallen asleep, though,” he said. “Curled up on the cushions.”

He turned his attention back to Celeste with a different expression, a different tone. The one that could make a woman’s knees weak, particularly if that woman had a good dose of sub in her makeup. She’d have cursed him for it, but she knew it was as natural and unassuming for him as breathing. “When you go back in,” he said, “go to her room and tell her I said it’s time to get in the bed and go to sleep. Make sure she does.”

“If she thinks you’ll come and see to it yourself if she disobeys, she’ll throw open the window and do the Macarena on the roof.”

He chuckled. “Any other night, I’m sure she would. Not tonight. Will you do as I ask, Celeste?”

“I don’t think you asked.” She tossed him a spirited look, just to show him he might be an über-Dom, but he wasn’t
her
Dom. Yet as she positioned herself to slide off the pod, he stood up and took her hands, lowering her back to the ground safely. Putting her hands on her hips, she looked at him, standing tall and formidable against the night sky. Christ, the man wore the hell out of a pair of jeans. “I’ll get her tucked in,” she promised. “How about you? Are you going to bed soon, or is this like some kind of knight’s vigil?”

His lips twitched at the irony, responding to the spark in her eyes. “If you like. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night.”

She’d been right. The Armani tuxedo Ben wore was charcoal black, perfectly tailored to his broad-shouldered, lean-hipped body. He had a matching vest beneath, a gray-and-black striped tie tucked into it against the white dress shirt. His dark hair was brushed to gleaming. And he was just the tip of the tasty man-candy iceberg.

Matt was his best man. The Italian-Texas parentage of the CEO of Kensington and Associates gave him the best of both worlds; he was over six feet, with rugged features, piercing brown eyes and burnished close-cropped hair. But it was the sheer presence of the man that made him unforgettable. Even when she was in the throes of her dislike for him, she couldn’t ignore the energy and intelligence that made him alpha pack leader in any situation.

Jon and Peter stood up as Ben’s groomsmen along with Marcie’s brother Nate, all in the same style of tuxedo. Jon had midnight blue eyes and black hair to his shoulders, his slimmer physique undiminished by the larger build of the other men. He was like looking at Michelangelo’s best work. Peter, the former National Guard captain who’d done two tours in the Middle East, lived up to that image. He and Max both had battle-ready musculature, dark blond hair and storm gray eye color, leading to a lot of inside family jokes, since Max was Dana’s regular driver.

Lucas was a groomsman as well, but he was currently absent because Marcie had asked him and Cassandra to walk her down the aisle.

The K&A men were devastating to female senses on a normal business day, so if one of them so much as smiled or flexed, female brain cells would lock up and hearts would stop. She hoped someone had thought to have a defibrillator on hand.

For her part, she felt mostly immune, because all her energy was occupied with staring at her date and trying not to be caught doing so. He’d worn a copper-colored suit with a black shirt and a tie striped with those two colors. The gold-and-black Semper Fi ring he wore, a gift from his mother after his honorable discharge, was cool and hard under Celeste’s hand. He had their tangled hands on his thigh and she was leaning against his side, a comfortable intimacy between them.

“I can’t wait to see her dress,” she said. “Cass and Dana said it’s a knockout.” The hard part was going to be looking at the dress and Ben’s reaction to it without giving herself whiplash. Fortunately she saw they had hired someone to film the event. She’d be playing the friend card to get a copy of that, for certain.

“You don’t have to wait much longer,” he said, brushing his lips across her forehead. “It’s almost time to start. You look stunning, by the way.”

She doubted that. She’d brought the standard little black dress every woman kept in her wardrobe for such an occasion. Pairing it with stockings and heels, she’d fluffed up her hair and tossed on some silver jewelry, and called it done. Yet when his gaze coursed over her in lingering appraisal, she was aware of the mid-thigh hem and the way the neckline gave him a deep view of cleavage. She felt sexier than she’d expected to feel, hyperaware of his thumb sliding over hers with erotic promise. He put his lips to her ear.

“Tonight, I want to reach under your skirt and peel off those filmy thigh-high stockings. Make you spread your legs so I can stroke your panties and see how wet you are for me.”

Would he do something like that at the after-party? She’d said she wasn’t sure if she wanted to do anything more than watch, and he’d said virtually the same. But when his promise shot hard, hot desire through her right here in the middle of a hundred people, she wondered if any such inhibitions would become moot. Getting their hands on one another might become far more important than their privacy…or lack thereof.

Fortunately, the music had changed and the female attendants were starting to come down the aisle. To settle herself, she focused on that. Jessica and Talia, Marcie’s sisters, came first, followed by Savannah. Matt’s wife was arresting in a butter-colored sheath, a floret of white fresh roses and tiny green leaves on the gathered hip of the dress, the low back revealing her smooth shoulder blades. Her flaxen-blonde hair had been pulled up and secured with a matching floral barrette. Because she was a romantic at such events, no hope of denying it, Celeste glanced toward Matt to confirm his reaction. Whether today or fifty years from now, it was obvious no bride would ever compare with his wife.

Rachel was Marcie’s matron of honor and followed in a dress of similar colors, though hers had been cut with a V-bodice and different skirt line that complemented her lusher figure. Her gaze found Jon in the lineup, and there was a brilliant light to her face that matched the luster in his blue eyes.

Matt spoke a word to Dana, waiting patiently with her Bible clasped against her robed breast. She nodded, gesturing to the audience. “Please rise.”

The string instrumental that began to play was one Celeste identified without looking at the program. It was “As Long as You’re There” by Charice. Her heart lifted at the choice Marcie had made for her wedding processional. Though she wanted to look toward the back with the rest, Celeste didn’t want to miss that first moment when Ben saw the bride. Fortunately, she didn’t have long to wait.

The shift in his green eyes could steal a woman’s breath. Vivid expectation became a mix of things. Surprise, deep pleasure, sharp desire, and a wealth of emotions Celeste could fathom but not articulate in any way but with a stab of tears behind her eyes.

Murmurs of appreciation rippled through the crowd. Even before she turned to see, Celeste wasn’t surprised by the reaction. Marcie was a stunning woman and, if she’d chosen a dress that complemented her looks at all, she would be astoundingly beautiful. When Celeste turned and inched up on her toes, using the prop of Leland’s body to give her more of a view, she corrected that assessment.

Marcie looked absolutely mesmerizing.

The bodice of the corset top was white satin overlaid by lace, the wiring lifting and framing her breasts, but that was where solid fabric stopped. The remainder of the corset was see-through lace to her hips, patterned with intricately beaded appliqués. At her navel, the satin backing resumed, but it started in a point and sloped in a widening triangle of solid satin toward her hip bones, leaving translucent lace over her sides all the way to the tops of her thighs. From there satin and more brocade took over, hugging her lower body and backside in a mermaid style skirt that accented the curves of her hips, the graceful lines of her legs. The short train slid over the carpet of white rose petals laid down by her sister Cherry, her flower girl. Marcie’s blonde hair was pulled in a smooth, shining twist on the back of her head, a few tendrils teasing her delicate neck, but nothing else was in the way of what she wore there.

Celeste had seen the collar Ben had given Marcie, because she wore it almost full-time. The stainless steel choker had an etching of three forget-me-nots on it. But she’d made it her only piece of jewelry today. No earrings or bracelets, a deliberate message to her groom.

As they passed, Lucas escorting her on one side, Cassandra on the other, Cassandra looking a little weepy but happy, the audience was treated to the back of the dress. There was no space between the lacings that held Marcie’s body in such breathtaking relief. White satin ribbons tied in a bow at her lower back trailed over the tempting swell of her hips in the snug mermaid skirt fit. The back of the corset was the same translucent lace with appliqués, all the way to the dimples above her backside.

It was as if Marcie was a young goddess, emanating a heady mix of erotic and all-dreams-come-true promise for one man, making that promise far deeper than just the physical. The one last touch she’d added to the back underscored it. Celeste’s gaze was drawn to the bare line of Marcie’s shoulder blades. At her nape, a temporary tattoo had been applied, flowing script edged with a silver pearlescent ink infused with tiny pinpoints of glitter like the appliqués.
Always Yours
.

Like the groomsmen and their wives, Celeste knew the significance of the collar Marcie wore, but the words on her back were a statement. They told Ben the collar was more than a commitment to the roles they played in Dom/sub sessions. It was a promise to be his forever.

Celeste recalled the clasp of the collar Leland had put around her throat. Though it had been temporary, merely functional for their play that night, she’d accepted it so definitively she’d almost forgotten to remove it the morning after.

Leland’s hand tightened low on her hip, and when Celeste looked up at him, she saw all of it, everything she was thinking, everything stirring her up, reflected in her Master’s eyes. She laid her hand on his chest, fingers sliding around the tie. When she moistened her lips, she couldn’t keep her needs out of her eyes, and the grip of his fingers said he’d received all those messages. Everything she didn’t know how to say, she didn’t have to do so.

Trying to contain a tremor, she focused on the altar. As impressed as the audience was, Celeste could tell Marcie’s husband-to-be was the one most under her spell. But that was a two-way street, for Marcie was just as enchanted. Her attention was locked on Ben as if he was the only one watching her.

She didn’t break that lock until she reached the altar. Marcie turned to kiss Cassandra and hold her sister in a close embrace. Whether intended or not, it showed Ben the crescent shape of the words delicately scripted on her flesh. His gaze darkened further and he reached out, passing his fingers briefly over them as if he couldn’t keep himself from doing so. Marcie drew back from her sister, dipping her head in charming, feminine acknowledgment of her Master’s touch before she turned to Lucas. He kissed her cheek, touched her face. Then he offered her hand to Ben, the men exchanging a long look.

As Dana gestured to the attendees to be seated, Celeste knew she wasn’t the only one craning her neck to see that significant instant when Lucas stepped out of the way and Ben closed his hand over Marcie’s. Except for that hot kiss at Café Beignet, she expected it was the first time they’d touched in a week. The look they exchanged, the way his fingers closed firmly over hers and he drew her to his side, her hand sliding under his arm to hold on, said they weren’t likely to let go of one another anytime soon. He leaned in, pressed his cheek to hers, said something. Marcie smiled, then drew back to say something to Matt. Whatever it was, she swept all the men with a glance when she said it, and laughter rippled through the first few rows as a result.

Celeste glanced up to see Leland grinning. Since he didn’t suffer from the female sensibilities that had sucked her into the romance of the moment, he could fill in what she’d missed. Men were useful for such things.

“‘Pay up,’” he told Celeste. “That’s what she said. Matt and the guys had a bet going that Ben wouldn’t show up.”

Celeste’s mouth dropped open. “How could they—” Then she caught the gleam in Leland’s eye.

“The proceeds from the bet are Ben’s wedding gift,” he said. “They all bet against him because of it.”

That backhanded male way of telling him they knew he
would
show up. It was the K&A men’s show of faith in Ben. She curled both hands around Leland’s arm as he settled his hand on her leg, thumb teasing the seam between her thighs, a gesture that spoke of the sexual intimacy between them, but more than that as well.

The wedding was simple and sweet, Dana administering the traditional vows. Throughout the entire ceremony, the bride and groom’s eyes remained on each other, all four hands clasped together. She’d never seen Ben so absorbed, so unaware of anything else in the world. Marcie’s brown eyes were so full of him, Celeste couldn’t stop a couple of tears from rolling from her own. Leland gave her his handkerchief, put his arm around her, pulled her close and kissed the top of her head as Dana pronounced them man and wife. The kiss began as a lingering press of lips, Ben’s hands coming up to cup his new wife’s delicate jaw, her hands resting on his sides inside his jacket. In a blink, the heat level accelerated, him folding her into his arms and turning it into a demanding embrace, Marcie melting against him and her lips parting underneath his. Applause and whistles broke out, until Dana swatted Ben on his shoulder with her Bible.

“Consummation is
not
at the altar,” she said severely. “Bunch of damn heathens.”

The audience burst into laughter. Marcie put her arms around Dana and hugged her. While Dana hugged her back, the minister completed the ceremony in a tone of fond exasperation. “Friends and family, may I introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. Ben O’Callahan.”

Celeste joined Leland as they rose to their feet with the rest, whistling and clapping. She noticed Marcie’s eyes were wet as Ben took her hand and they proceeded back down the aisle together. Each of the groomsmen took the arm of his respective wife, and Marcie’s brother Nate brought up the rear with Cherry, Talia and Jessica following behind, all of Marcie’s siblings wearing happy faces.

“Now to the best part of a K&A wedding,” Leland told her as she blew her nose. “Free food and alcohol. Enough of this mushy shit.”

“Jerk,” she said, and stabbed him in the side with her elbow to reinforce the point. But she noticed she held on to his arm as they followed the rest of the audience toward the reception, and he seemed just as reluctant to let go of her. Mushy shit, indeed.

§

A screened pavilion tent had been set up on the lawn to shelter the food and bar areas, with tables scattered around a dance platform. Ben and Marcie did a waltz to Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years,” and followed it up with a Cajun fast step to Mindy McCready’s “This Is Me,” which drew everyone else out on to the dance floor. The men tried their best to get Leland to sing, but were unsuccessful until the bride intervened.

Marcie stepped up to the microphone and pinned Leland with her doe brown eyes. “No one says no to the bride on her wedding day, Sergeant Keller. It’s the law, and I know you respect the law.”

Celeste had to chuckle at his pained expression, but then he dutifully did as Marcie demanded. He chose to sing John Michael Montgomery’s “Rope the Moon,” which brought all the married couples and lovers back out on to the floor with the newly wedded couple. When Leland finished, he gave Ben a direct look. “And you keep her believing those lyrics, else there’ll be a posse of us to lynch your ass with that rope.”