I feel him burning a hole in the side of my face. “Stop bringing up the past.”
Smiling, I take another sip of my drink. “You two have been married a hair over eight months and she’s already visibly pregnant, and your very best friend hasn’t made it a year and he is already a father of two, hypocrite.”
“Rawr, someone is sexually frustrated. Has Esme come to see you yet?”
I look at him confused by his statement, but his eyes have drifted off to his own wife.
“No, why?”
He pats my shoulder then pushes off the wall he was just leaning on. “She will.”
As if she was conjured, Esme pulls me on the dance floor. “Dance with me, brother-in-law.”
“Um. Okay.”
Stevie Wonder’s Always pumps through the room and we step to the beat.
Esme looks up at me, too serious for a wedding. “First, I’d like to thank you for protecting our sister. It was a valiant thing to do.” Her serious face changes to threatening. “But if you hurt her, you’re gonna need someone to protect you. Don’t let this pretty face fool you, new brother. I. Will. Cut. You. Twice because she’s the baby.”
Ah, this is what Oran meant.
“Yes ma’am,” I tell the little gangster.
“Now, spin me.”
I’m spinning Esme back to me when I notice Imala dancing with Berke.
Interesting. Neither look uncomfortable so it must be amicable. Seeing them together makes me realize how important it is to me for my family to get along, especially my brother and wife. I hope Berke doesn’t revert to his standoffish ways.
“How about a sibling swap?” Esme suggests. “You get your bride and I’ll get your brother to say dirty things to me with his accent.”
Esme’s plan makes me chuckle. “One swap coming up.”
Esme goes to Berke and I take Imala just as the music slows.
“We’ve been here too fucking long,” I whisper but she’s staring up towards the speakers as if she can see the music.
I’d emailed the DJ a list of all the songs I’ve sent her to be filtered in with his playlist. She’d seemed to notice by the third song but once she hears Gorilla, her mouth falls open just enough to make me want to taste her. My desire to leave triples as my dick hardens. Now I know which song affected her the most.
“Imala,” I say her name to get her attention. “Let’s get out of here.”
“But—" she stalls, but I quiet her.
“No, sweetheart. It’s time.”
Chapter Sixteen
Imala
I’d practically stalled until Wyn was seconds from dragging my ass out of the reception. It’s not that I don’t want him, I do. My body reacts to his touch in ways that are still foreign to me. Now, there’s nothing holding us back. This isn’t cuddling with him to fall asleep because I was scared. No, this is baby making. And judging by the lingerie my sisters picked out, dirty baby making. How did I let them talk me into not looking at it until the wedding night? It’s practically straps of lace. The one-piece getup is a G-string with a front that barely covers my...uncharted territory. The strap of lace travels up my belly then veers off into strips that cover only my areolas. In other words, my whole tit will be out if I sneeze wrong. I guess that’s the point.
Using the plush white towel, I wipe some of the condensation from my shower off the mirror to get a better look at my ensemble.
Oh my, nothing is left to the imagination.
I take my hair out of its top knot and finger comb it until it frames my face and falls into soft waves around my shoulders. I take a deep breath to calm the butterflies in my belly.
This is normal. People have sex all the time. No one has died from it, right?