Chapter 36: Brooks
The sight of Olive walking down the aisle, flashing her very long and very bare leg was truly one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. A lesser man would have jumped up and held the pieces of her skirt together so no one could see what’s mine.
Not that holding the skirt in place would do any good. Between the low-cut neckline, exposed back, and the way the fabric slips over her body, Olive looks like walking sin. And, with nary a panty line in sight, I spent more time eying my girl and speculating whether she has panties on than I should admit.
Her little wink nearly did me in as she swung her cute ass out of the ballroom with the rest of the wedding party but I held it together, picking up a beer and a Christmas-themed cocktail from one of the bars, and waiting by a tall cocktail table for Olive to come back.
We wait for what feels like forever but finally the wedding party is announced and the soft classical music that has been playing gives way to “The Best Day of My Life” and the bridesmaids and groomsmen come dancing back into the ballroom in pairs followed by the bride and groom. They take the dance floor, tearing it up while the music blasts.
I’m good right up until I see the groomsmen that came dancing into the room with Olive take her hand, spin her out and back in, and then leer at her cleavage. What really took the cake, though, is the tight look on her face. He’s a scumbag, and he’s making my woman uncomfortable.
I’ve been patient all day, but the elastic band that’s been holding me back snaps. He’s got his hands and his eyes on what’s mine. Hell. Fucking. No.
I cross the room, weaving through the tables and doing my best not to stomp. The groomsman clearly sees me coming and the look on my face must be enough of a warning because the lecherous look falls off his and he lets Olive go like she’s made of lava. I take Olive’s hand and pull her close, careful of the crazy ass heels she’s wearing, dip her low and kiss the hell out of her.
I’m not trying to make a scene. Or maybe I am. I really don’t give a fuck. I’m going to lay claim to this woman, and make sure no one else touches her ever again. Maybe I should feel guilty about being such a caveman but the way Olive melts into me, throwing her arms around my neck and kissing me back with just as much fervor, makes any guilt I might have vanish. She seems perfectly happy for me to publicly mark my territory.
I’m so wrapped up in the satisfaction of holding her, the silky soft skin of her exposed back against my hand, and the little hums of pleasure Olive is making that it takes me a long time to realize people are applauding and hooting all around us. The bride and bridesmaids are cat calling with Sally, cheering, “Get it!”
Olive blushes but smiles at me like I’m the greatest thing she’s ever seen as I pull her up. She fans her face, smiling at her friends. “I think I need a drink!” Taking her hand, I lead her back to the table and her waiting drink. Eyes follow us for a minute, but soon the room is focused on the bride and groom again.
“You got this for me?” she asks, picking up the cocktail.
“Yeah, the bartender called it a mistletoe cocktail, which I thought was a terrible name because mistletoe is actually poisonous. He said it’s just gin, cranberry juice, and elderflower liqueur.”
Olive grins at me as I ramble, her soft smile hiding a thought that I can’t read.
“What?” I ask.
She runs a hand up my arm, smoothing my tie and trailing her soft little palm down my chest. “You’re just so much... more than I expected when I met you.”
I’m speechless, my heart skipping and then tripping over itself to catch up.
“I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve you, Olive.” Brushing the back of my knuckles over her soft cheek I start to say more but we’re pulled out of the moment by the collective “Ooh!” of the wedding guests as the staff bring a truly enormous cake out of the kitchen.
It takes two full-grown men to carry it and they still look like they’re struggling. They almost make it to the cake table before one of them catches a toe on a taped down power cord and stumbles. The entire crowd gasps and sucks in a breath, holding it as the poor guy regains his footing and they both manage to keep the cake upright. A lone pinecone topples off one of the tiers, but otherwise the cake makes it to the table unharmed.
There is a loud whoosh of people exhaling in relief. The server looks pale as a sheet and is visibly trembling as he makes a bee line back to the kitchen. Olive is gripping my bicep so tightly I’m worried she’s going to break a finger. I’m going to have little fingernail bruises there tomorrow.
She lets out a relieved laugh as she releases my arm, shaking out her fingers. Chelsea meets her eyes across the room and gives her the finger guns and a wink, making Olive giggle. She shoots her friend the ‘OK’ sign before turning around and downing the rest of her drink.
“I think my soul almost left my body there for a second,” she says.