Untouched (One Fairy Tale Wedding, #2) Page 6

  But Hannah felt like she was wearing a mask the whole time.

  When they were done, she wanted to look around the acres of property owned by the hotel, so she told Bruce she was going to take a walk. He decided to come with her, which should have made her happy, but it didn’t.

  Things weren’t right between them.

  They should be, but they weren’t.

  She wanted more.

  And he didn’t.

  He didn’t love her—and didn’t think he ever could.

  His heart was simply not available. For her. For anyone.

  There had been no misunderstanding his words.

  They interacted like normal as they walked a few miles through the wooded trails that surrounded the hotel. It started to snow near the end of their walk, and Hannah was glad to get back inside.

  They went to the room, and she rested for a while before she had to go down to get her hair and makeup done.

  She left Bruce in the room, feeling lonelier than she could ever remember feeling.

  She shouldn’t be lonely. She had the same friends as she’d had yesterday—people she was genuinely close to. Bruce was one of those people.

  It was all right that she couldn’t have everything with him.

  It didn’t mean they weren’t close anymore.

  She made it through the hair and makeup session and then had to go up to put on her bridesmaid dress. It was pale blue and fell in soft folds to her feet. She liked it and thought it looked good on her.

  Bruce said she looked pretty, but it felt like he was holding back.

  It didn’t feel like he was being really real with her.

  Nothing felt right anymore.

  She went down to join the wedding party and waited for what felt like forever as Polly got dressed, and then they took the bride and bridesmaid pictures and then the pictures with the groomsmen. She didn’t enjoy it. It seemed to go on forever.

  She wanted to really talk to Hannah and Madison but couldn’t do more than text.

  She was starting to wish this whole wedding was over.

  When it was finally time for the wedding to begin, the whole thing passed in a blurry haze. She was barely conscious of walking down the aisle, although she remembered seeing Charlie and Simon and then looking over to see Bruce sitting on his own.

  The wedding itself only took twenty minutes, and then the guests all went across the hall to the reception, but the wedding party had to stay and take more photographs.

  Hannah hated it.

  She was so sick of smiling at the end that it felt like she was snarling instead.

  Finally the photos were done and she was able to go join the others at the reception. She found Bruce chatting with Madison and her date, Timothy, and Bruce smiled at her like he normally would have.

  For some reason it just depressed her even more.

  The reception lasted more torturously long than the wedding had. They had a plated dinner and then toasts and then dancing and all the wedding traditions.

  Near the end, she had to go over with all the other unmarried women and try to catch the stupid bouquet.

  She didn’t play along with the others. She just stood near the back and watched.

  In some sort of cruel turn of fate, Polly threw the bouquet very far—over most of the other women’s heads.

  It came right toward Hannah, so she reached up to catch it.

  It was a beautifully tied bouquet of perfect red roses. She stared down at it, amazed it had landed in her hands.

  Everyone cheered and teased her about it, and Hannah tried to play along.

  But the truth was that Bruce didn’t love her. He was never going to marry her.

  And at the moment, she couldn’t imagine ever wanting anyone else.

  That truth hit her so hard and so painfully that she couldn’t return to Bruce right away. Instead, she went over to the bar and got a third glass of champagne.

  She didn’t normally drink very much, so she’d probably end up with a headache tomorrow. But right now she didn’t even care.

  As she was turning away with her glass, she almost ran into a guy who had been in her class all through high school. Jeff was his name, and he’d always been quiet and studious. She’d always liked him.

  She said hello, and they chatted for a few minutes. She felt better, more like herself, as she laughed at his jokes and smiled up at him.

  He was nice. And single. And not bad-looking.

  Maybe soon she’d be able to look at him in interest instead of thinking only of Bruce.

  She hoped so.

  She wanted to.

  She didn’t want to always hurt like this, feeling like she’d lost the man she wanted most.

  She’d never known she even wanted him before.

  She was still laughing with Jeff when she was suddenly aware of a presence beside her.

  Bruce.

  He slid an arm around her waist and stuck a hand out to Jeff. “I’m Bruce Mackenzie,” he said with a glare that could only be called cool. “Hannah’s boyfriend. You are?”

  Hannah stared at Bruce in astonishment as Jeff introduced himself. He stayed for another minute to make some small talk, but he took his leave pretty quickly.

  Hannah whirled around and scowled at Bruce. “What the hell was that?”

  “What was what?” Bruce still looked cool and bad-tempered.

  “What was that? Why did you do that?”

  “I thought I was your date this weekend. Didn’t we have that conversation?”

  “Yes, of course. I was just talking to him. We went to school together.”

  “That was more than talking,” Bruce muttered. “I’m not blind, you know.”

  She was still gaping at him. “Seriously? You’re seriously doing this?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Acting all macho and possessive. You’re the one who told me that it would be better with someone I loved.” She bit the words out like they were poison. “And then you come over here and make sure there’s no chance of another man even looking at me twice, much less falling in love with me.”

  “I didn’t mean you should find someone this weekend. We’re still together for this wedding.”

  “Are we?”

  They were both talking low and angry, trying not to make a scene.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Bruce demanded, taking a step closer to her. He looked like he was ready to shake her, and she just couldn’t understand why he would be reacting this way, why he would be so angry.

  It wasn’t like his heart had been touched, broken.

  Not like hers.

  “It means you have no right to be acting this way. All we’ll ever be are friends.”

  He blinked and didn’t answer right away, but she couldn’t read the expression on his face. Then he said, “Even so, I seem to recall that yesterday you were upset about exactly the same situation. Is it really so impossible that it would bother me too?”

  She stared at him, almost dazed by the question.

  It was impossible.

  She’d reacted the way she had because she’d wanted more from him.

  But he’d told her very clearly that he didn’t want more.

  He had no right to be acting this way.

  She couldn’t possibly tell him that though. She couldn’t explain the difference without revealing what he could never know.

  So she took a deep, shaky breath and pulled herself together. “All right. Fine.”

  “What?” He looked as baffled by her acceptance as he had by her anger.

  “I said you’re right. It’s fine. I won’t even look at another guy until the weekend is over. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom.”

  She didn’t wait for him to reply. She just hurried out of the ballroom.

  She headed toward the restrooms, but when she reached them, she didn’t go in.

  It felt like she needed to be farther away. Much farther away.


  So she kept walking until she’d reached the grand staircase. She hurried down it and continued until she was walking out a set of french doors onto a patio.

  It was dark out, and snow was still falling, settling in a gentle layer on the ground, the bushes, and the trees.

  Her dress was sleeveless, but she didn’t even care. She breathed the cold air and walked out so she could look over the landscaped garden. No flowers blooming now. Nothing but bare trees and evergreen shrubs.

  She stared out into the night, telling herself to get it together.

  Her world wasn’t falling apart.

  It was just an emotional setback.

  She would be fine.

  As soon as she had time to recover a little, she would be just fine.

  “Damn it, Hannah!” The rough words came from behind her, and she turned to find that Bruce was hurrying over toward her. “What the hell are you doing? It’s freezing out here.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, sounding and feeling exhausted.

  “It is not fine. Get back inside.” He reached out to take her arm and try to pull her back in through the doors.

  She pulled away from him. “I don’t want to go back inside.”

  He groaned, obviously frustrated by her obstinance. He shrugged out of his tux jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  She pulled it tighter despite herself. It was way too big for her, but it was warm and smelled like Bruce. She loved it.

  Bruce stood beside her for a minute as she stared out at the garden, snowflakes landing on her hair, her face.

  “Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” Bruce asked at last, his voice soft and hoarse.

  “What do you mean? We were arguing about you coming over and trying to intimidate Jeff like some sort of caveman.”

  “You know that’s not what I’m talking about. I want to know what’s wrong.” He turned her around to face him.

  She didn’t want him to see what was in her expression. She was afraid it would show too much. She pulled away from him.

  “Hannah,” he growled, reaching out for her again.

  “What? You don’t get to come out here and boss me around and demand to see into my soul. We’re friends. That’s all we are. You don’t get to act like we’re more. We’re just friends.” Her voice broke in a little sob at the end, at the truth that hurt her so much.

  Bruce lowered his dark eyebrows, his mouth parting slightly. He was holding on to her upper arms very tightly. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “It is.” She jerked out of his grip, at the very end of her rope. She was going to burst into tears at any moment, and there was no way she could stop herself. “It is!”

  “Oh God, Hannah,” he murmured. He reached out for her once more.

  If he touched her again, she was going to shatter. She jerked away from him clumsily. Unfortunately, she was wearing heels and the patio stones were slick from the snow. Her feet slipped out from under her, and she fell in an awkward heap on the ground.

  She burst into helpless tears.

  “Fuck, oh fuck.” Bruce had reached out to catch her, but he wasn’t quick enough. So he leaned over to try to help her up. “Are you hurt?”

  She couldn’t catch her breath. She couldn’t stop sobbing. And her dress was soaked from the snow.

  She felt like an absolute fool.

  “Baby, talk to me,” Bruce was saying. He’d squatted down and was trying to lift her back up. “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” she managed to say. “I’m fine.”

  “You are not fine. Come on, baby. See if you can stand up.”

  She let him help her to her feet, but when her weight settled on her right ankle, she whimpered in pain. “Damn it,” she muttered, wiping away her tears. “I twisted my fucking ankle.”

  She normally didn’t curse a lot, but these were extenuating circumstances.

  It felt like she was totally falling apart.

  “Is it bad?”

  She shook her head. “I think it’s just twisted. It’s fine. I can hobble back to the room, and then I’ll put some ice on it.”

  He shook his head, his eyes very blue in the moonlight. Very warm and soft and kind.

  Before she knew what was happening, he swung her up into his arms.

  She gave a soft squeal and clung to his neck. “What the hell are you doing? I don’t need to be carried. I just...”

  He didn’t listen to her, so she trailed off. He was already carrying her back inside and then to the elevator.

  He was only slightly winded as they reached their floor, and he carried her to their room.

  “Bruce, I’m really okay. I just kind of fell apart.” She actually felt a little better now, and she was embarrassed by everything.

  He let her unlock their door, and then he carried her over to the bed. She immediately pulled off her wet dress and put on the pajamas he found for her.

  He stood next to the bed, gazing down on her for a moment before he went to get a bag of ice to put on her ankle.

  It was cold and uncomfortable, and Hannah was angry at herself for being so stupid.

  “I’m sorry,” she said when Bruce stood looking at her again.

  “For what?”

  “For being stupid. For everything.” She was shivering helplessly from the cold and the aftermath of so much emotion.

  Bruce went over to turn up the heat in the room. Then he went to the bathroom and came back wearing just his underwear.

  He got into bed beside her, pulling her into his arms.

  She huddled against him, shivering and trying not to cry again.

  He didn’t say anything. He didn’t demand to know what was wrong with her. He just held her until she was finally warm.

  She eventually fell asleep, vaguely aware that Bruce still hadn’t let her go.

  Five

  Hannah slept all night, and she woke up feeling warm and cozy and good.

  Really good.

  She wasn’t really sure why she felt so good, but she was conscious of something firm and big pressed against her, and something about it she really liked.

  Her eyes still closed, she sighed in pleasure and reached out to feel it more, discovering it was a body.

  A man’s body. She was lying almost on top of it, and as she ran her hands down, she realized that he was erect. Her hands wrapped around the hard shaft through the soft fabric of his underwear. She wasn’t really squeezing. Just feeling.

  She rubbed herself against the length of his body, finally realizing that it was Bruce.

  Bruce.

  No wonder she liked the feel of him so much.

  He was making surprising sounds in his throat—soft, little grunts—so she opened her eyes at last to see what he was doing.

  He’d obviously been asleep like she was, but he was starting to wake up now. His eyelids were very heavy, his skin was flushed, and his mouth was relaxed. He was groaning shamelessly now as she fondled him.

  A flicker of realization hit her about what she was doing, and she pulled her hands away, but he reached out to take her hands and moved them back to his erection. So she let herself stroke him the way she wanted to, delighted by his responsiveness, how much he appeared to like it.

  When she started to squeeze gently, he gave a loud huff and rolled over suddenly, pressing himself down on top of her and rocking his groin against her belly. He mouthed her clumsily until he was able to focus enough to kiss her for real.

  She kissed him back, conscious of nothing but how much she loved the feel of him, the sight of him, the touch of him, everything about him.

  Bruce.

  Exactly as she wanted to be with him.

  They kissed urgently, eagerly, rocking their bodies together. And pretty soon his hands were tugging at her pajamas, trying to pull them off.

  She helped as much as she could, wanting to feel his bare skin against hers. They had to stop kissing so she could sit up and pull her top off, and Bruce stared at her for a lo
ng time, naked appreciation on his face.

  He wasn’t anything like he’d been on Friday night—when he’d been fully in control of himself, careful and gentle. Right now he was eager and almost young—no hint of composure or his normal intentionality.

  She loved him like this, as much as she loved him in every other way.

  She just loved him.

  The thought hit her as his hands moved up to cup her breasts. “Jesus, baby. You’re everything,” he murmured.

  She almost melted. Then the pleasure from his touch hit her and she arched her spine, pressing herself into his palms. She let him caress her for a minute, but she was too turned on and full of feeling to hold back for very long. Still sitting up, she reached down to the waistband of his boxer briefs and shamelessly pulled them down.

  As he was tugging them off over his feet, he grunted, “Condom.”

  She wasn’t sure she would have remembered until it was too late, so she was grateful as she leaned over to the nightstand where the second condom Bruce had gotten from his suitcase was still lying on the nightstand top.

  She tore it open and was thinking about rolling it on over his erection when he took it from her hands. “Can’t wait that long,” he mumbled.

  She gave a little huff of laughter as he pulled her over on top of him, helping her straddle his hips with her legs.

  She was too swept away in feeling to even feel awkward about the new position. He helped her settle herself above him and then guided himself inside her. It felt very full, very tight, but it was much more comfortable than it had been before. She moaned in pleasure, in an overflow of emotion.

  She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to ride him or what, but he pulled her upper body down so he could kiss her. She bent at the waist so he wouldn’t slip out of her, and she started to roll her hips as they kissed.

  She was feeling so much she couldn’t focus on the kiss. She moved over him urgently, trying to chase the sensations that were already developing inside her. He was holding on to her bottom with both hands, holding her in place so he could buck up into her. There was nothing rhythmic or graceful about their movement. It was raw, primitive, eager on both sides.