Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“Anyone might walk in.” But I’m not really denying him as my grip tightens. Beyond the closed door, London’s elite quaff champagne and dance drunkenly to the band as it crucifies another Oasis cover. Another wedding reception spilling into the late hours.
“Only if you have another bottle to throw” comes his husky reply.
“I’m all out.”
“Do something for me?”
“Depends,” I whisper as he loosens another button. His lips press the swell of my breast.
“Say penis for me again.”
My lips fight a smile as I angle my gaze his way. “Why?”
“Science” comes the hot sibilant burst.
I give my head a tiny shake—amused acceptance or maybe delight. But as I purse my lips in preparation, his mouth—petal soft—brushes mine. I make a noise, a tiny sound of pleasure, almost anticipating the next sultry slide. My insides shimmer as his hand grazes my hip, pinning me against the wall, the scent of his soap and expensive cologne invading my senses.
“Tastes like I thought it would,” his low voice rumbles.
“Penis on my lips?” How ridiculous.
“If you’re offering.”
“You wish.”
“Gorgeous, and a mind reader too.”
His words make me feel all tingly. I forgot there was such a thing as flattery.
“What’s your name, beautiful?”
“Mila. Yours?”
“Fin.” He takes my hand in his, bringing my palm to his lips. His eyes fire bright as he presses it to his chest.
An invitation, I think, as I trail my fingers down, down, and over his belt. My insides turning molten at his raw, needy sound.
“You weren’t lying,” I whisper, gripping him. He’s so thick under the fine fabric.
“No, I was not.” His reply is so sweetly agonized. “Beautiful Mila, champagne thrower, closet dweller. Not all men are liars.”
“Jury is still out on that one.”
“I have a truth for you.” His finger toys with the hem of my skirt, his eyes seeking permission.
“What’s that?” My gaze drops as he does, my heart beating frantically with anticipation.
“I can’t wait any longer to get my mouth on you.”
Chapter 1
Mila
Just think of the sunshine.
There’s something about it that just puts a positive spin on the glummest of days. Not that I’m glum. I can’t be glum. I’m on an all-expenses-paid trip to an exclusive island resort—and I’m getting paid for being here!
It would be rude to be anything other than grateful, I remind myself as I pick up my iPad and check off another few items from my checklist. Then drop the pen because I’m not used to these gel nails.
“Slippery little . . .” Got it. Beauty is pain, so they say, and chewed nails are just icky.
Where was I? Ah.
Chairs 12 Perfectly aligned and suitably swathed.
Dais Appropriately dressed.
Not that I expected anything less. This resort has more stars than I have fingers on one hand. Nope. Not doing it, I think, firmly ignoring the reflex to glance at the band of pale skin where my engagement ring once sat. I’m not thinking about today’s date either. So what if this is the day I was supposed to get married myself. Who cares? Not me.
Back to my iPad and list.
Lanterns Two per pew. Evenly spaced.
Carpet aisle of rose petals & floral displays. These are yet to be positioned, thanks to the potential for wilting.
I pause and tap the pen to my lip. Maybe the heat is why I feel a little off. The almost oppressive humidity. But the sun is shining, so I will be happy, even if I need to staple my smile in place!
Though it has rained every afternoon since I got here.
That’s it! I’m worried about the rain. I breathe an actual sigh of relief. I’m a wedding planner, not a miracle worker. There isn’t one place in my current contract that suggests otherwise. And Evie, my bride for today, chose this venue. I have to assume she’s prepared for the hem of her Valentino wedding gown to be a ruined, her hair to frizz, and her makeup to run. Rather her than me.
The weather might be out of the realms of my control, but I’ll do my darndest to make sure everything else goes off without a hitch. Which it should, considering the money the couple has thrown at this and the hours I’ve spent planning this wedding down to the finest detail.
But sometimes things just go wrong. Like relationships. People break promises, and penises fall into . . . well, places you never thought they’d ever fall. And before you know it, your business is in tatters and you’re sleeping on your grandmother’s ancient and lumpy sofa, wondering where it all went wrong.
But enough about my life, because today is about love and a union that’s about to help me get everything back on track.
“Hey, bestie!” Sarai, my assistant, ambles into the open-air pavilion, with its traditional alang-alang roof. “The bridal party’s helicopter just landed.”
“Oh, good!” Relief floods my veins as I pull on the neckline of my linen dress, hoping to stimulate a little cross breeze along with that sudden ease. They were supposed to be here yesterday, but the lives of the rich and fabulous are a mystery to us mere mortals.