One clean slice of a punch and the jackass falls to the floor.
A woman screams.
Two men rush to his aid.
Irie slips her hands around my bicep, tugging me away from the scene as her uncle sprints across the crowded room.
There’s blood everywhere. Apparently the fucker bleeds easily. Someone yells for ice, another person yells for towels.
“We have to get out of here,” Irie says as her uncle pushes and shoves his way through the gathering crowd of worked-up wedding guests.
“You two!” he points at us—like she’s equally to blame for what just happened.
I lift a hand in protest as we back away. “We’re leaving.”
Irie takes me past the table where Aunt Bette is saving our spots and grabs her phone and little black clutch.
“What’s going on?” Bette asks, squinting across the room toward the circle of people trying to help poor, defenseless Trey McAvoy.
“Talon punched Trey,” Irie says. “We have to go.”
Bette’s face lights up and her hands clap, and before I know it, she’s rising from the table to give me an actual standing ovation. “Bravo, Talon. Bravo. I knew I liked you.”
“Bette, I’ll call you later,” Irie tells her before navigating us out of the fellowship hall, up the wooden stairs, and out the back door to the parking lot, where our Nissan chariot awaits.
My fist throbs, and my heart ricochets the way it does during the final seconds of the fourth quarter.
“I can’t believe you did that,” she says, breathless, her palm splayed across her forehead.
“I’m sorry. After what he said, I couldn’t stand back and—”
“No, don’t apologize,” she says, waving her hand. “That’s not what I meant. I mean … I’ve been fantasizing about punching him in the face for years and you did it!”
Irie throws her arms around me, bouncing on her toes.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her face buried against my neck. A moment later, she kisses me, soft and slow, her lips curling against mine. “Take me to your hotel. I don’t think I can wait any longer …”
Chapter 33
Irie
My heart beats in my ears as he unlocks the hotel room door. We step into a dark void, wrapped in a blanket of icy air that sends a thrill down my spine.
“You sure this is what you want?” he asks as the door floats shut behind us.
“Yes.”
He reaches for a light switch and a small lamp next to the king-sized bed illuminates. The suite is luxurious and contemporary—not your average Peony Falls, Missouri hotel room, and he curls his finger around mine, leading me to the foot of the bed.
Once there, he sits on the edge and pulls me into his lap. The hem of my dress rides up, inviting him to slide his palms up my bare flesh.
Originally I never intended to take things this far with him. It was never supposed to get physical. But then he held me in his arms last night and absorbed my sordid past with zero judgement, and when it was over, he told me he loved me.
And punching Trey at my cousin’s wedding? Well, that was the icing on the cake.
“I love you, Irie,” his words are delivered on cinnamon breath while his hands slide beneath my dress until he finds my panties. His movements are slow, deliberate. I don’t know why I expected the first time with him to be animalistic. Of course it wouldn’t be—the man is going to savor me, savor this moment.
Talon shrugs out of his suit jacket and leans back on the bed. I climb over him as he slides my panties down to my ankles, tossing them aside. A moment later, his hands cup my ass and he pulls me against him, my bare sex rocking against the outline of his throbbing cock that grows harder by the second.
I slide my dress over my shoulders and his hands travel up my back until he reaches the clasp of my strapless bra. Within seconds it’s gone, vanished into the dark void of the hotel room.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he says, sitting up and taking a pert nipple between his lips as his hands continue to explore this newfound territory. He stops to kiss me, his tongue fondling mine, and a minute later he flips me to my back, crawling over my naked body. His mouth presses hot kisses against my collarbone, working his way between my breasts before traveling down my stomach, which caves against his touch. The faintest hint of his five o’clock shadow tickles my sensitive skin, and I reach down to run my fingers through his hair as I get comfortable.
A moment later, he’s kissing my inner thigh, moving closer and closer to the ache between my legs. Closing my eyes, I sink into the mattress, my body overcome with tiny earthquakes as the heat of his breath centers on the one place I want it most.