Rebound Envy (Rebound #2) Read online

  Adam's still standing with his arms crossed, that muscle in his jaw bulging again. "Care to share what's so funny?"

  The occasional splutter of mirth is still bubbling out, and his question makes it hard not to just start laughing all over again. "Oh, Adam. Things have never been good between us. Why bother? But if it makes you feel better, it's fine. Apology accepted. Let's just play nice through tomorrow so we don't mess anything up for our friends, alright?"

  Adam's mouth is now a thin line, and his hands are balled into fists at his sides. "Things have never been good between us? What the hell does that mean?"

  My eyes widen. He's pissed off now, and I'm not really sure why. Okay, maybe I shouldn't have laughed like that, but this has all been too much. The tension between us is too much and I snapped a little. But my thoughts are running along and leaving my mouth behind. I gawp at him as he stalks toward me, my mouth opening and closing like a fish, no sounds coming out.

  He's standing directly in front of me now. "I remember things being better than good between us." With that he grabs my upper arms and his mouth comes down on mine, hard and angry. His tongue sweeps into my mouth before I even realize that I've opened for him. One arm snakes around my waist, crushing my body against his, the other sliding up to cup the base of my skull. His fingers tangle in my hair, tugging lightly, angling my head for better access.

  I can't help but respond to the demand in his kiss. My hands clutch his shoulders to maintain balance, trying to feel grounded while teetering on my heels and swept away by Adam.

  I suppose he's right that the few times we kissed things were good between us. Better than good. He gave me a taste of his kisses like a drug dealer and got me hooked, and then took them away. The difference being that I couldn't even buy his kisses after that. I just had to suffer through the withdrawals on my own for over six months.

  Now he's giving me that taste again. And I know I'll be hooked, and there's no methadone to help overcome this addiction. My eyes fly open and my sense of self preservation kicks in. I force my hands from his shoulders to his chest and push.

  Adam breaks off the kiss, his eyes darkened with a combination of anger and lust.

  He's still crushing my body against his. I try to push him back further, but he won't budge. "What are you doing?"

  "If you have to ask, I'm obviously not doing something right." With that, he crushes my lips to his again, his tongue demanding entrance. The hand around my waist travels down to cup my ass, gripping and pulling me tighter against him, grinding his pelvis into me. I can feel his erection against my lower belly. Instead of pushing him away like I know I should, I'm clinging to him once again, relishing the feel of him against me. Surrendering to the command of his touch.

  This. This is what I wanted six months ago. This is what I've been craving. Why now, though? What's changed?

  My errant thoughts are silenced when Adam pivots us around and backs me up until my legs hit the bed. His hands leave me and our momentum carries me backward. I sit heavily, breaking the kiss. My hands reach for him almost without my conscious direction. He leans forward and kisses me again, nipping at my lower lip before pushing me down so I'm lying back on the bed, propped on my elbows.

  His hands glide down my legs until they reach my feet, pulling off my shoes and tossing them to the side and out of the way. He kneels at my feet, his hands traveling back up my legs, pushing my dress up and out of the way, his mouth trailing kisses in the wake of his hands.

  He pauses when his fingers reach the edge of my thong, tracing the edge. "A red thong. That's so hot." He sounds like he's talking to himself more than to me. He hooks his fingers in the waistband and pulls it down. His fingers trace the folds of my pussy. "Fuck me. You're bare."

  I suck in a breath at the feeling of his fingers against my skin. I'm suddenly glad that I decided to go for the full Brazilian when I went for the spa day with Jenna and Cate earlier this week.

  He's pushing my thighs up and back, so my knees are bent and my feet are flat on the edge of the bed. He places a kiss on my inner thigh, and the heat of his mouth so close to my sex sends ripples of goosebumps across my skin. "I've been wanting to taste you almost since the day we met." He's whispering, his voice low and husky, and I wonder if he realizes he's saying that out loud.

  With one last kiss on the skin of my thigh, he holds me open with his fingers, and his tongue, hot and wet, makes contact. He slides it up the length of me, tasting me, relishing in my softness and my responses. He's watching me, his eyes dark and glittering.

  He takes his time, but soon he's into a rhythm that's sending me higher and higher. Lick, circle, suck, flick. Again and again until I'm bucking against him and his hands are holding my hips down so I couldn't get away even if I wanted to. The next time he sucks my clit into his mouth and flicks his tongue across it, I arch and begin shuddering convulsively.

  He's gone.

  I open my eyes, and before I can voice my protest, he surges over me, his mouth on mine, impaling me in one swift stroke. I moan into his mouth. He's thrusting, setting a punishing pace, the zipper of his pants rasping against my thighs.

  He thrusts hard, once, twice, and again, stilling deep inside me, shuddering with his orgasm. After a moment he kisses me deeply before pulling out and heading into the bathroom to dispose of the condom I now see that he's wearing.

  Thank God he remembered that.

  I sit up, pushing my dress back down. Looking around, I spot my shoes. I can't find my thong. I have maybe a few seconds before Adam comes back out of the bathroom. Overcome by the urge to flee after what just happened, I grab my shoes and run on tiptoe to the door. I don't even wait for it to close fully before I'm almost running for the stairs, shoes still in hand.

  I have no idea what that was or why it happened. All I know is that I have to get away.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The next morning goes without a hitch. The pounding in my head from yesterday is gone, replaced by a vague sick feeling after what went down with Adam last night. I resolutely push those feelings aside. Today is Jenna's day, and I'll be damned if my drama with the best man does anything to ruin it for her.

  Our choreographed pageantry of readying the bride and getting ourselves ready is flawless. We have to be at the chapel early enough to get in most of the photos before the guests begin to arrive. Brian and Jenna are determined not to see each other ahead of time, so we have to be creative in keeping her and Brian apart during the photos before the ceremony in the small space of the chapel and its surrounding grounds.

  Jenna is radiant in a cream strapless gown with an A-line skirt. The bodice has subtle beading that shimmers when she moves, trailing off where the bodice meets the skirt. Cate and I both look nice in halter style chiffon dresses in a dark purple. Our bouquets are a combination of white and purple calla lilies. The effect is simple and elegant against the rustic chapel.

  Brian, Adam, and Connor look dashing in their black tuxes with black vests and long ties. I studiously avoid looking at Adam while I walk up the aisle, and focus on Brian's face when Jenna enters the chapel.

  Brian looks as radiant as Jenna. They have eyes only for each other as Jenna's father escorts her down the aisle. The love on their faces is evident for everyone to see. I sigh inwardly, hoping someone will look at me that way someday.

  The ceremony is simple and sweet, and everyone cheers at the end when Brian dips Jenna to kiss her. They walk back down the aisle laughing.

  The smile on my face falters when I look at Adam before putting my hand on his arm. He has the polite face on that he's so good at, but he's not bothering to hide the anger glittering in his eyes. I force the corners of my mouth back up while we make our way along the blessedly short aisle at a faster pace than the processional.

  As soon as we're out of the chapel, we break apart, Adam moving to congratulate Brian while I chat with Jenna and Cate. We all stand out of the way off to one side while the minister announces that the reception wi
ll be back at the Mountain View Resort. The guests make their way out, congratulating Jenna and Brian as they walk past. We'll be taking a few more photos of the entire bridal party and the families together before we head to the reception.

  Adam avoids contact with me as much as possible, only shooting me dark looks on occasion. For my part, I avoid him as much as possible as well.

  Jenna seems to have caught on that things are less than stellar between Adam and me. She shot me a questioning look after one awkward moment while the photographer was posing the bridal party and Adam refused to get my attention while I was talking to someone else off to the side closest to him. I managed to brush it off, and Jenna was distracted enough at the time not to make anything more of it. But it seems that Adam's giving me the silent treatment.

  The rest of the photos go smoothly, and after a little over an hour we're on our way to the reception. I'm determined to have fun and enjoy myself and not let Adam's broody silence get me down.

  With it being Brian's wedding, the open bar is stocked with the best wine selections from The Barrel Room and top shelf liquor procured through their various contacts.

  Since the wedding was in the early afternoon, the reception is just cake and light hors d'oeuvres along with the open bar. Jenna and Brian cut the cake not too long after we arrive, since the guests have already been there eating and drinking for an hour at that point. Brian pretends like he's going to smash the cake in Jenna's face, but at the last minute lets her take a dainty bite, and then kisses the remaining frosting off her lips. It's sweet and funny and charming, just like their whole relationship.

  I'm so happy that this day has finally come for Jenna, and now we're all living it up on the dance floor. The DJ is spinning a wide range of music, from slow romantic ballads, to house style dance mixes.

  When Brian and Jenna decide it's time to leave, we bust out the party poppers and have all the guests shoot streamers into the air around them as they run for the door.

  Despite the absence of the bride and groom, the party's still going. The room is booked for another hour, and Connor pulls me back onto the dance floor. I've been dancing with groups and a few other men throughout the reception, but this is my first dance with Connor. I even danced once with Scott. I was worried it would be awkward when he asked me to dance, but there were no hard feelings left over our breakup. He was there with a new date, Eva, who he'd met at his gym. She is a much better fit for him than I ever was.

  I'm glad Connor's finally asked me to dance. He's been giving me appreciative looks all day, and danced with every other single woman here under age fifty. I'm not sure what's taken him so long to get to me, but now that he has I'm not going to complain.

  We're dancing face to face to a slower song, my hands on his broad shoulders and his on my hips. I'm glad I'm wearing heels, so that our heights are not as disparate as they would be if were I flat footed. As it is, he only has to lean down a little to speak in my ear to be heard over the music.

  "You look great in that dress." His voice is low and rumbly in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. He pulls back and grins, and I smile back. He has the same charming smile as his older brother. It's easy to see how Brian landed Jenna so easily if they're anything alike.

  "You too!" I almost shout it back, since I can't get my mouth as close to his ear as he can to mine. He laughs and I realize what I've said. "I mean, you look great in your tux, even with it half off by now." He's long since discarded the jacket and tie, and is just wearing the pants, shirt, and vest with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He's been dancing for a while, so I can imagine that he's gotten too warm for the full tux.

  His eyes glint with mischief at my mention of him being half out of his tux, but the music changes before he can say anything. This song is a little faster with a strong bass beat. He spins me around so my back is to his front, his hands still on my hips, and starts us moving in time to the music in a slow grind. Nothing raunchy, just sexy. After a moment I realize that I can feel his erection pressing into my back just above the crack of my ass where our bodies are connected. Why hello, Connor, Jr.

  I'm just starting to get into this dance, thinking that it's too bad that Connor lives halfway across the country, when the warmth of him pressed against me is suddenly gone. I almost stumble from the abruptness of his departure.

  "What the hell, man?" I whip around to see Connor pushing Adam's hand off his shoulder.

  Adam shrugs. "I'm cutting in."

  Connor reaches for my hand. "Then ask nicely or wait your turn. Grab me like that again and I'll break your hand. I don't care if you are my brother's best friend."

  I can see Adam's jaw clenching, but he ignores Connor and turns to me. "C'mon, Amy. We need to talk."

  Both men are looking at me expectantly. Connor's still holding my hand, tugging a little to get me to join him on the dance floor again. Adam's face is blank except for the muscle in his jaw bulging rhythmically. I can tell he's pissed, and I probably do owe him an explanation for bailing last night and not returning the messages he left on my room phone. I guess I can be grateful he waited until after Brian and Jenna left to have it out with me.

  I sigh, wanting to avoid having this turn into a dick swinging contest between the two of them. I squeeze Connor's hand once before letting go. I go up on tiptoe and lean in close to his ear to make myself heard. "I do need to talk to him. Thanks for the dance."

  His blue eyes search my face, making sure I'm okay with going off with an obviously angry Adam. "Okay. Find me when you're done if you want to dance some more."

  I smile and nod and he drops a kiss on my cheek before heading off in search of another dance partner. I turn to see Adam, his golden eyes glittering dangerously until Connor is swallowed up by the rest of the dancers. Shaking my head at his behavior, I start walking toward the bar.

  Adam catches up to me. "Where are you going? I thought you agreed to talk."

  I cast him a quick glance. "I did. I just have a feeling I'll need a drink for this talk."

  He starts to order two glasses of wine once we get to the bar, but I cut him off. "Whisky, neat." I can feel Adam's eyes on me, but I ignore him while I wait for my drink.

  Once we both have our drinks I lead us over to a table in a corner away from the majority of people. It's further away from the speakers by the dance floor, so it's easier to talk and be heard, and we're far enough away that people aren't likely to overhear or interrupt.

  I sit down, taking a sip of my whisky, relishing the burn in my throat as I swallow. I don't often go for hard liquor, but this seems like a situation that calls for it.

  Adam hovers near the table, glancing around before directing his attention at me. "I thought we could go somewhere a little more private."

  I shake my head, and reach down to take off my shoes. "My feet hurt and I want to sit down. And I think a less private place might be a better idea for us, all things considered." I'm trying for a sardonic tone, but I'm not sure I pull it off.

  Adam looks like he's going to argue for a moment, but instead nods and pulls out the chair next to mine, settling into it, taking a lazy sip of his wine before setting his glass on the table.

  We sit in silence for a few minutes, his body close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him, but not quite touching me. I wait for him. Since he's the one insisting that we talk, he can start the conversation.

  Finally, "What the hell, Amy?" His voice is soft and laced with pain, pain that's reflected in his face. His masks are gone and he's showing me something real, for what might be the first time since we met.

  I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. I don't even know what to say.

  He looks away from me, and I'm a little bit relieved not to be the one to break eye contact first this time. "Why'd you leave last night?"

  Again, I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Why did I leave last night? Adam's still staring in the direction of the dance floor where everyone's still dancing. Some p
eople left shortly after Brian and Jenna made their exit, but it's still quite a party.

  Before I can come up with something to say, Adam's speaking again. "I was in the bathroom for like five seconds—five fucking seconds, Amy—and when I came out the door was closing. It took me another five seconds to fix my pants, and when I went into the hall you had disappeared. Vanished like you hadn't been there. If you hadn't left your underwear I might have thought it was just a dream."

  A wave of heat rushes up my neck and over my cheeks at his words.

  He turns and looks at me again, the naked hurt still on his face, his eyes searching mine. "Where did you go? Why did you leave?"

  I decide to focus on the first question. I can answer that one. "Back to my room."

  He raises his eyebrows. "I went to your room and you didn't answer when I knocked on the door. Were you just avoiding me?"

  I knock back my whisky, feeling the need for the rest of my liquid courage before continuing with this. I give a little shake of my head. "I took the stairs. I saw you at my door from the window in the stairwell and waited until you left."

  He scrubs his hands over his face. "Why?"

  It's my turn to stare at the dance floor while I talk. "I figured you just wanted a quick fuck to get me out of your system. I didn't feel like staying long enough to get some kind of 'let's be friends' speech or something."

  He's staring at me. I can feel it, but I refuse to turn my head to look at him. "I don't know how to be friends with you, Amy."

  I can't stifle the snort that comes out. "Ain't that the truth." I start to lift my glass for another drink, and remember it's empty. Damn.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" His voice is defensive.

  I huff out a breath, almost a laugh but not quite. "We've never been friends, Adam. It's painfully obvious that you can't be friends with me, can't be anything with me, even though it would make things so much easier."

  I risk a glance at him, and his brow is furrowed, the corners of his mouth pulled down. "What do you mean we've never been friends? We were friendly when we first met."