It was distracting to have his delectable, all-too-sexy fiancée walking around their hotel room with her robe flapping open. JC kept catching glimpses of tempting flesh. Granted they had been able to indulge in love play at will for a blissful week, but that didn’t seem to matter. Currently his want of her was insatiable.
Christmas found them rising just before noon to prepare for a late lunch and gift exchange at the Chasez home. When JC presented Francesca with a sterling silver ornament to mark Our First Christmas Together’ he discovered the sentiment made her excuse herself from the room, crying. Everyone looked questioningly at JC. Seeking her out he found her looking out a window, clutching the ornament to her chest. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“I thought you’d like it,” he said of the gift.
Swiping at her tears, she turned to assure him. “I love it! It’s perfect! I should have warned you, Christmas makes me weepy because I am so grateful and so happy.”
He put his arms around her, bussing her forehead. “I’ll have to remember that for next year, huh? As long as you’re happy...”
“Happy doesn’t begin to cover it, darling.”
Another late dinner at the Carlisle and another round of gifts.
Finally they returned to the loft for a lengthy celebration of their own.
“Woman, how am I supposed to keep my hands off you?” JC demanded as once again Francesca flashed him as she scurried around gathering underthings.
Francesca laughed. “Who says you have to?” she asked.
He studied her. Her hair was swept up in a French twist. Her make up had been applied. Most women would protest if he messed them up. “Well... you’re almost ready...”
“I’m not high maintenance sort of girl, darling.”
Well he knew that. Still...
“Make up can be reapplied and hair can be done over.” She walked over to him as he sat on the bed and sat in his lap, her arms around his neck. “What did you have in mind?”
Slipping his hand beneath her robe, he caressed her ribs. “Something hot and nasty. Something to remind you whose girl you are while you’re standing up there with the best man.”
Francesca snorted. “I’m not liable to forget. He is Christopher’s best man — not mine. He was the guy I was having dinner with when you called me for a second chance.”
The guy who bored her nearly to tears. He was no threat. “Gypsy, I’ve seen you in that dress.” The strapless silver sage confection fit her like a glove. Men would be reduced to drooling idiots.
“JC, I don’t know what you’re worried about. My dance card wasn’t exactly full when we met.”
He suspected that had more to do with Francesca’s lack of interest in dating than lack of willing suitors.
“I don’t cheat. I don’t poach. I don’t overlap... And I am far too lazy to go looking for something more when I already have what I want.”
Francesca was one of the least lazy people he’d ever met.
Rubbing her lips to his, she asked, “Still want to get hot and nasty?”
Chuckling JC replied. “Always.”
“Okay,” she agreed brightly.
“I can control myself.”
“Question is: do you want to?”
No. “I’ll leave it up to you.”
“Oh, so I get to look like a hussy!” she taunted, flouncing off his lap. Snatching up her bra, panties, and stockings, she headed for the bathroom.
Damn! She could be hard to read. It sounded as if she wanted him to muss her up! “Dammit, Francesca!” he grumbled as he trailed her to the bathroom.
“Impossible male,” Francesca muttered as she patted her hair. “Makes me think I’m going to get some then backs off...”
Hearing her, JC grinned. “I’ll give it to you, Gypsy. Gladly.”
“Oh, don’t bother yourself, Chasez,” she retorted huffily.
Grabbing her around the waist, he picked her up and plunked her on the vanity top. He moved between her knees, spreading her thighs. His jeans’ zipper was already being sorely tested. Her being a bitch turned him on for some reason. “No bother,” he growled sexily as his teeth nipped at her throat. “If you wanna go to this thing with some of me making your panties wet, I’m more than willing to oblige.”
The visual he put in her head made Francesca whimper. She could just imagine standing up at the altar beside Gaëlle, feeling her damp panties and recalling how they had come to be that way… His mouth traveling down her neck and her robe slipped from her shoulders as warm hands covered her breasts. “JC...”
“You can’t get all pissy with me and not face the consequences, sweetheart.”
“I—I think I’ll like the consequences,” she whispered.
“I’ll make sure you do.”
There was no doubt Gaëlle made a stunning bride. Her long red hair was swept up from her bare ivory shoulders. Tendrils escaped to frame her beautiful face, which was misted over with a fine veil. Her sleeveless white gown with its embroidered bodice and full skirts made her look like a princess especially with the diamond tiara perched atop her head —albeit a very sexy princess… She fairly glowed with love for her groom.
But JC was focused on the woman who stood next to the bride. The woman who wore her pale green dress so well it made him weak in the knees and left him with a permanent hard-on. The woman who a mere ninety minutes earlier had gone wild in his arms as he made love to her on the bathroom counter. He smiled to himself. He’d licked her into a frenzy very slowly. As soon as she came, he’d stood up to plunge into her, riding them both up to explosive bliss. Once he could breathe again, he’d reached for her thong and slid it up her legs, not wanting their mingled essence to escape when she got to her feet.
“Oh, JC, I don’t even look at other men,” Francesca had assured him very earnestly.
And that really wasn’t a worry with her. His fiancée was far too honest for that, true-blue. “I know, Gypsy. But when you’re up there beside the bride and you look at me, I know we’ll be thinking of this together.”
From her position as maid of honor, Francesca made eye contact with JC. His wicked winking smile made her blush. She indeed knew exactly what he was thinking! It had taken precious minutes to freshen up after their hot, wild ride. Good thing they had already been at the hotel!
After the ceremony guests and the wedding party gathered for the reception in the hotel’s ornate ballroom. JC reclaimed Francesca, his arm around her waist as they watched the bride and groom’s first dance.
“I want this,” Francesca sighed wistfully.
“Want what?” Did she mean all this fairy princess hoopla? JC hadn’t thought she was the type.
“The first dance and all the traditional stuff.”
“We can do it, baby. Whatever you want.” They’d already begun the church’s pre-marital sessions. It hadn’t been easy with their schedules, but they were well on their way to being deemed a marital match. Francesca wanted to be married in the church — and nowadays it was okay to marry a non-Catholic if he was willing to take the classes. “When?”
“Saint Valentine’s Day.”
So soon? JC grinned.
“I know it is hokey and sappy, but as a girl I wanted to be married in a pink dress on Valentine’s Day.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” He’d been wearing a pink shirt when they’d met. “Pink is not a problem for me.”
“You think I’m goofy.”
“No, Francesca, I don’t.” He brushed his lips to her temple. “It’s your only wedding so you get whatever you want. Don’t let anyone talk you out of a single thing you want.”
She hugged his slender waist. “I love you, Mister Chasez.”
The woman didn’t use a lot of endearments but she was generous with her ‘I love you’s’ — he could live with that!
“I feel like the hunted,” Justine grumbled as she stood next to Francesca for the photographer later.
“Why?”
“What has gotten into Johnny? He’s everywhere I turn.”
“Most women wouldn’t mind that. He’s pretty easy on the eyes.”
“He acts like I’m the only woman he sees.”
In her pale gold gown in the same cut as Francesca Justine was an exceptional example of womanhood. “It proves my brother has good taste.” Francesca had noticed JC and Johnny both suffered from the same painful condition — matching woodies! “What is your objection?”
“It’s Johnny for God’s sake!”
“It is John Carlisle, full-grown male.”
Justine was stunned. “You knew about this? You don’t object?”
“I got clued in the same time you did — under the mistletoe. He’d been talking to JC... Why would I object? Unless you plan on using him as a plaything... Johnny treats his girlfriends pretty good.”
“I’m seven years older...”
“So? I’m older than JC.”
“I’m not Anglo-Catholic.”
“You’ve been like a sister to me, Justine. Have we ever played the race card?” Francesca was slightly insulted at the insinuation.
“’Ches, romantically involved is different than being friends,” Justine pointed out.
“Happiness matters. Being good to each other matters. The rest can be dealt with.”
“This really sucks,” Johnny muttered as he took his seat next to Francesca at the banquet table. He had been placed under his sister’s watchful eye while Justine was placed next to Jeffery a table away.
Francesca patted his hand. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Gaëlle hadn’t known Justine was over Jeff when seating chart was made. She thought she was helping the cause of true love, bless her romantic soul.”
JC didn’t much like sitting across the table from Francesca. Damn seating arrangements. The best man sat next to her, trying to look down her top if he wasn’t mistaken. Didn’t her diamond ring tell the slob anything? “Francesca and I decided on a Valentine’s Day wedding,” he announced to Johnny.
“That soon?” Johnny asked with a wicked grin, “Who is dragging who?”
Francesca playfully cuffed her brother. “I’m dragging JC.”
“I thought I was dragging you,” JC said.
“Oh, so you are dragging each other!” Johnny laughed.
“More like racing hand in hand for the same goal,” Francesca stated.
JC’s answer was a dreamy sigh. “Yeah.”
“So... Justine say anything to you?” Johnny asked his sister.
“That she was feeling hunted.”
“Fuck.”
“You’ve been hanging around JC entirely too much,” Francesca retorted at his use of JC’s favorite word. “I did however point out to Justine that you are both adults.”
“Gee, thanks, sis.”
“Don’t be a brat. I’d say do less stalking and more bold moves.”
“I can do that.”
“I’m sure you can.”
The delegated time to toss out the garter to single men — and the bouquet to the single women was several minutes before midnight, just before the new year was to begin. The bride and groom stood at the rail of the upper level for the event. Christopher Van Kewl slipped the garter from his bride’s calf and flung it through the air.
Making a jump as if retrieving a jump ball gone bad, Johnny claimed the white and gold lace scrap of fabric.
Then Gaëlle put her back to the rail and blindly threw her bouquet into the leaping crowd of women of all ages. One woman had not been grasping for it. Justine was stunned when the cluster of roses and baby’s breath fell into her hands.
She was even less prepared for the man with the garter in his hand to draw her from the crowd. The countdown to the new year had begun...
“Let’s start this new year out right,” John Carlisle was saying to his dream woman as his head was lowering towards hers.
“Way to go, little bro!” Francesca cheered quietly as her fiancé turned her into his arms. “Oh, yes!” Once JC’s mouth claimed hers, she didn’t give anything else a second’s thought!