“Jesus …”
“Forget Him. The only thing you’ll be worshiping tonight is my cock.”
A bolt of lust shoots through me, bringing every nerve alive. I’m shivery and excited and so fucking hard it’s a struggle to think with my top brain and not the one between my legs.
“Let’s go.” I step back quickly, needing the distance from Émile to reorient myself before I come in my pants. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone who wasn’t a transactional Grindr hookup, and I’m desperate to see this incredible man naked.
I swing around to head for my things as fast as humanly possible, and that’s when it happens.
A kid darts across in front of me from out of nowhere and I sidestep to avoid colliding with her, nearly run into another dancer, who I narrowly miss by jumping aside, hit someone’s leg and then … the ground disappears from under me.
My gut leaves my body for a second as I fall.
On instinct, I throw my hands out, catch the side of a table, but instead of helping … it comes down with me as well. All I’m aware of is a loud crash, pain shooting through my hip, and a splatter ofsomethinghitting my face.
Then an echoing silence.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
I lie there for a moment, squeezing my eyes closed like if I stay as still as possible no one will notice, but the stifling silence disappears and voices start to swell.
Hands close over my arm.
“Are you okay?” an unfamiliar voice asks, and as I’m pulled out of the mess and to my feet, I catch a glimpse of wedding cake everywhere and the remains of the ice castle shattered across the floor.
My gut sinks. Tears build in my eyes.
Through my swimming vision, Sheppy peers at me in concern, and behind him … every person from the wedding is staring at me.
“Fuck. Shit. I’m sorry.” I yank my arm out of his grip and go to flee, but my shoes slip over icing and I fall back into Sheppy.
I’m all flailing limbs as we both go down hard.
Chapter 7
Émile
What. Just. Happened?
My feet are frozen, mouth and eyes wide, the sudden silence ringing in my eardrums, and when I finally recover from the shock enough to get to Christian, he goes downagain.
A laugh bubbles in my chest at his flailing and the fact that he was right. He’s a walking disaster.
I think I’m in love.
Holding back my amusement is possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever done as I slip and slide through the icing to get to him. His tan face is flaming red and when I offer him my hand, he shakes his head so fast it looks in danger of falling off.
“Come on, up you get.”
He still makes no effort to climb to his feet so I duck down, grab hold of him, and drag him up with me. He’s covered in icing, jacket askew, hair standing every which way on one side, and slick to his head with white buttercream on the other.
His dark lashes lower in a glare. “Don’t laugh.”
“I’m trying incredibly hard not to.”
The groom groans from beside us and I glance over to see blood smeared beneath his nose. Not much, but enough to send his mother into a fit. While she wails about whether or not it’s broken, I duck down and grab a piece of shattered ice castle and offer it to him.
“Thanks,” he manages weakly.