Something Borrowed IV

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We didn't leave the coatroom for another hour.

But I knew we couldn't stay forever. People would notice. The bride's sister and the best man, both missing for too long. Questions would come. Whispers would follow.

And I was already drowning in secrets.

"Your grandmother," Leo said, his breath warm against my ear. "She's looking for you."

I froze. "What?"

He nodded toward the window. Through the glass, I could see the reception hall. And there, standing near the entrance, was my grandmother. Craning her neck. Scanning the crowd.

For me.

"Shit," I breathed.

"This is where I tell you I got caught," he murmured. "Caught watching you from across the room, wanting you."

"You did not."

"I did." He pressed his lips to my shoulder. "And I have to let you go. For now."

My heart clenched. I wanted to say no. Wanted to pull him back into the shadows and keep him there forever.

But I also wanted my grandmother to not find me half-dressed and thoroughly debauched in a coatroom with her new grandson-in-law's brother.

I straightened my dress. Fixed my hair. Wiped the smeared lipstick from my mouth.

"How do I look?" I asked.

Leo looked at me. His eyes went soft.

"Like someone who's been thoroughly fucked," he said. "And like someone who's going to be thoroughly fucked again before the night ends."

"Leo—"

"I know the rules." He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Go to your grandmother. Smile and nod. I'll find you."

His thumb brushed my bottom lip. "And when you least expect it..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He just smiled, that slow, dangerous smile, and opened the coatroom door.

I slipped out into the hallway. Walked toward the reception. My heart was racing, my skin was flushed, and every nerve ending in my body was alive.

Grandma found me before I reached the doors.

"There you are!" She clutched my arm. "I've been looking everywhere. Your mother wants to do the mother-daughter dance—"

"It's the bride's dance, Grandma. That's for Emma and Mom."

"Same thing. Come, come."

She tugged me toward the reception hall. I let myself be pulled. My eyes searched the room behind me.

Leo was already inside. Standing at the bar. Talking to my uncle like nothing had happened.

But his eyes found mine. Just for a second.

And he winked.

---

The next hour was a blur of dances, photos, speeches and the impending doom of Emma's marriage, the secret growing between me and his brother.

My mother cried through the mother-daughter dance. My father gave a speech that went on too long. The cake was eventually wheeled away for its sad, melting demise.

And Leo moved through the crowd like a ghost.

Always there. Always watching. Always at the edge of my vision.

We didn't speak. We barely touched.

But every time he walked past me, his hand brushed mine. His fingers found my lower back. His lips pressed against my ear, whispering nothing but his breath.

And I ached for him.

Physically ached.

Every stolen touch made me drip. Every glance made me burn. My body remembered him—remembered the stretch of him inside me, the weight of him on top of me, the taste of him on my tongue.

I needed him again.

---

The reception wound down around 2 AM.

Guests filtered out. My parents hugged Emma and her husband and promised to stop by the hotel. My grandmother was asleep in a chair by the entrance. The band packed up their instruments.

And then it was just us.

The wedding party. The family. And Leo.

"I'm exhausted," Emma yawned, leaning against her husband. "Please tell me we're done."

"Just the cleanup," my mother said. "Where's the maid of honor?"

I stepped forward. "Here."

"Can you handle the flower arrangements? I want them donated to the hospital tomorrow morning."

"Absolutely."

My mother smiled. "You're a lifesaver."

If only you knew, I thought.

I started gathering the centerpieces—tall glass vases of white roses and eucalyptus. The flowers were heavy in my arms. I carried them toward the kitchen.

And Leo appeared beside me.

"Let me help," he said. His voice was casual. Neutral. Safe.

"Thanks."

We walked in silence, side by side, into the empty kitchen. The lights were dim. The catering staff had already gone home. The silence was thick around us.

I set the vases down on the counter. Turned.

Leo was right there. Close. Too close. His body pressed against mine.

"You," I breathed, "are going to get us caught."

"I don't care." He pushed me back against the counter. "I've been watching you all night. Every dance. Every laugh. Every time you fixed your hair."

I shivered.

"I saw you in the garden," he continued, his mouth at my neck. "I saw you look at the moon. I thought about how that moonlight would look on your skin."

"Leo—"

"I'm not done with you yet." His hand slid up my thigh, under my dress. "Not even close."

I should have stopped him. I should have pulled away, laughed it off, sent him back into the reception hall.

Instead, I spread my legs.

"Good girl," he murmured.

His fingers found me. I was soaked.dripping , aching and ready.

"Jesus," he breathed. "You've been like this all night?"

"Every time you looked at me."

"Then I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner."

He dropped to his knees. Right there in the kitchen, surrounded by half-eaten cakes and dirty plates and vases of wilting roses.

He pushed my dress up. Found my panties. Pulled them down.

And his mouth was on me before I could speak.

I bit my hand to stop myself from screaming. His tongue was magic—sucking, licking, circling my clit with a precision that made my knees buckle.

"Just like that," I gasped. "Please, right there mmm."

His fingers joined his mouth. Two inside me, curling, finding that spot.

I came hard. Fast. My body shuddering against him.

He licked me through it. Savoring every bit.

Then he stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were dark.

"We're not done," he said.

---

Two hours. Four more times.

Three in the coatroom.

That final time—the sun was rising when he kissed me again—and I knew nothing would ever be the same.

He pulled back. His lips were swollen. His eyes were tired. His tuxedo was ruined.

"You should go," I whispered. "The sun's coming up."

"I know."

"People will wake up soon."

"I know."

He cupped my face. Thumb stroking my cheek.

"Was it worth it?" he asked.

I looked at him. Really looked at him.

"Yes," I said. "It was."

He kissed me one last time. Slow. Long. Like he was memorizing the taste of me.

Then he pulled away.

"Meet me in the coatroom," he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "The next wedding?"

He smiled and he walked away.

I watched him go. Heard the hotel door close behind him.

And I stood there, trembling in the moonlight, and realized he'd ruined me for anyone else.

I'd never be the same.

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