A Price to Pay Page 17

  ‘I also need to pick up my dress, but apart from that small detour I think your plan sounds bloody perfect,’ I agreed with a smile before I felt the sharp jab of an elbow in my side as someone pushed past me to retrieve their suitcase from the carousel.

  Why were people always so rude? A simple “excuse me” would have done the job just fine. I turned to send a disapproving frown at the culprit and tensed when I recognised Alexandra, Oliver’s colleague from Club Twist.

  ‘Oh! Hello, bride-to-be!’ she cooed when her gaze met mine.

  ‘Hello, Alex. I didn’t see you on the plane,’ I mumbled, not sure what else to say to her. We didn’t exactly have the easiest of relationships. I still didn’t really like her – she was always lovely to me if anyone else was around, but snippy and catty when we were on our own, and I was convinced it was because she was irritated that I had snagged Oliver, and she hadn’t.

  ‘You’re here very early,’ Sasha commented with a scowl, and I had to suppress a grin at her blatant show of irritation. She disliked Alex even more than I did and wasn’t afraid to show it. Her comment was irrelevant, too, because she knew very well that most of the guests were coming tonight and making the most of the weekend.

  Alex ignored Sasha’s strop and put her case down before blowing some strands of hair back from her face. ‘Yeah. We thought we’d make a mini-break out of it.’ Alex linked her arm with the tall blond man beside her who I recognised as Joshua, her boyfriend, and apparently her submissive. To be fair, with his servile posture and downturned gaze he fitted the submissive bill far better than I ever would. ‘The weather here is so much nicer than the UK, isn’t it? We’re hoping to pick up a tan.’

  Sasha still looked like she was sucking on a lemon, but I managed to maintain my smile. Alex was being pleasant enough today, so I might as well be mature and do the same. ‘Yeah, it’s predicted to be high thirties all week.’

  ‘Ooh, fabulous. Well, I won’t hold you up. I’m sure you must have lots of last-minute wedding things to organise. See you on Saturday. Bye, Sasha.’ Alex waved at us both and then disappeared into the crowd, dragging Joshua along with her.

  ‘She’s such a fake cow,’ Sasha grumbled, hauling her case off the carousel and flashing another look towards Joshua and Alex’s retreating backs.

  ‘She is, but at least she seems to be making a bit more of an effort recently.’ I might not like Alex a great deal, but I was still glad that in the end we’d invited her to the wedding. Oliver had been reluctant because of the bitchy way she had acted with me when I’d thought I was pregnant, but it would have made things even more uncomfortable between us all at Club Twist if we’d invited everyone else and not her.

  ‘Right, enough talk about her, we’ve got cocktails to find.’

  Chuckling, I rolled my eyes and looked at Sasha with a grin. ‘I though you said we were sightseeing first?’

  Sasha bit on her bottom lip, trying to look remorseful and failing. ‘Yeah, that, too, but you know, let’s get our priorities in order. You’re getting married in two days; we need celebratory cocktails pronto.’

  And with her intentions stated, Sasha added my case to the trolley and set off towards the exit, grinning at me over her shoulder.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Robyn

  Yesterday had been lovely. After picking my dress up from the courier’s office where Oliver had had it shipped over by a special service and seeing the florist for some last-minute checks, I’d spent the day with Sasha, sightseeing and having a lazy lunch. Once Chloe had landed, the three of us had sought out the cocktails that Sasha had mentioned at the airport.

  This morning, after recovering from a mild cocktail-induced hangover, we’d taken all our things across to Oliver’s parents’ house where Sasha and I would be staying before the wedding tomorrow.

  Oliver, given his traditional outlook, was spending the night in a hotel, but we’d decided it would be nice to at least spend the afternoon and evening together with both of our families having a pre-wedding meal at his parents’ house.

  My mum, dad, and brother Tom had all arrived from the UK earlier today, but Oliver’s huge family dwarfed mine. All five of his sisters had rolled in about three hours ago with their various partners and children and so now Sophia’s dining table was full to bursting, but she was clearly in her element and loving every second of it.

  Sasha had been invited, too, of course, but she’d chosen to leave us to it and head out with a few people from the wedding party to continue her cocktail weekend. She had promised to be back here tonight and in a fit enough state that she wouldn’t be hungover for the wedding tomorrow.

  There was something very satisfying about seeing the people you loved looking content and happy, and that was exactly what I saw every time I looked around the table. Everyone was smiling, laughing, and getting along really well, and as I snuggled into Oliver’s side I can honestly say I’d never felt happier or more relaxed in my life.

  Sophia hadn’t let me do a thing during the meal preparation and serving, so after we’d all finished our coffee and drinks I insisted on starting the washing-up, something that Oliver decided to help me with.

  But instead of helping me by drying the dishes I’d washed, he moved in close behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders to give me a gentle massage. He kneaded my muscles with just the right amount of pressure, and it felt so heavenly that my skin began heating with lusty enjoyment. The washing-up became temporarily forgotten and I stood there with soapy hands as I absorbed the sensation of having his hands on me.

  ‘I’ve missed having you with me these last few days, cariño,’ Oliver whispered, his breath warm across my ear as he leaned in close. ‘And I missed you in my bed last night,’ he added hotly as he slid his arms down and around me, one hand coming to rest on my hip and the other pressing flat across my belly and tugging me backwards into him so that I was nestled against his strong body.

  ‘Me, too.’ I was pressed top to toe with Oliver – my favourite place to be.

  ‘I can’t wait until tomorrow when you’ll become my wife.’ He placed a kiss on my temple and rubbed his hardening groin against my bum with a low growl. ‘I’d love to take you to the guest room right now and bury myself between your legs…’

  ‘And they say romance is dead.’ I tried to giggle, but it came out as a husky moan, so I gave up my pretence and ground myself back against him until his erection dug in the cleft of my arse. If only we didn’t have so many clothes on this would be a very promising position.

  The noise of a door opening beside us made me jump almost a foot into the air, and as I looked across I saw my mum and Oliver’s mother entering the kitchen and chatting away. ‘And to end the tour, this is my kitchen… oh!’ Both women came to an abrupt stop as they caught us in our intimate position by the sink.

  ‘Olive-ee-air! Leave your girl alone!’ Sophia clicked her tongue affectionately as she came to stand beside us, and I saw that my mum was struggling to hold back a chuckle. ‘She will be your wife tomorrow; can you not wait?’

  Oliver tightened his grip on me and made a show of burying his head into my neck and kissing me with several hot, wet kisses that had me giggling and squirming in his arms.

  ‘No, mamá. Absolutely not.’ He started to tickle me then, his fingers finding all my areas of weakness until I was laughing out loud and wriggling in his grip, which clearly did nothing to tamp down his erection that seemed to be growing harder and harder by the second.

  ‘Oliver, stop!’ I blurted between laughs. Finally, he relented and loosened his grip, but even though the tickling had stopped Oliver kept his hands firmly on my hips so I stayed in front of him and kept his hard-on hidden. Wiping a tear from my eye, I glanced up at him with a grin and then risked an embarrassed glance at our mothers who were both still in the kitchen and gazing at us with affectionate looks on their faces.

  Sophia turned to my mum and gave her arm a squeeze. ‘Young love, so sweet.’

 
; I’m not sure they would think it was “so sweet” if they knew that Oliver was currently grinding his erection against my bottom, but we both smiled at them anyway and then collapsed into giggles as soon as they had turned and left the room.

  He gathered me into his arms, this time with us facing each other, and reached up to brush some stray hairs from my face. ‘As much as I would like to ravish you tonight, perhaps my mother is right. One more night of waiting will make tomorrow even more special.’ Leaning down, he placed a soft, reverent kiss on my lips, which immediately turned into something more heated and had us both clinging to each other and moaning.

  Oliver dragged his lips from mine with a growl and stepped back. ‘It may give me a serious case of blue balls in the meantime,’ he added wryly, adjusting his trousers so I could clearly see the outline of his jutting erection, ‘but it’ll be worth it.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Sasha

  The music here was awesome. Admittedly, I couldn’t speak Spanish, so the lyrics made no sense to me whatsoever, but the beat was fast, addictive, and perfect for dancing off some calories, which was exactly what I had spent the last twenty minutes doing.

  We were in Fantasia, the club owned by one of Oliver’s mates, and even though it was a sex club and none of us were planning on hooking up, we’d still taken him up on the invitation because it included free drinks at the bar all night long.

  We’d started the night at a local nightclub with the rest of the younger crowd from the wedding party, but as the evening had drawn on and they’d headed off to their beds for the night, those of us who were members of Twist had headed here. The whole wedding was like a secret society – those in the know about Club Twist, and those not. The kinky ones and the vanilla. I personally loved the fact that a group of us had a common secret. It made it all feel quite taboo and exciting.

  As the big day was tomorrow, Robyn was spending the evening with Oliver and their families having a quiet meal, so my dancing companion for the night was Natalia, Robyn’s friend who worked in Club Twist. I hadn’t spent much time with her before this trip, but I discovered she was really nice once you broke through her painfully shy exterior. She also seemed very intrigued by the men here, asking me on two occasions which ones I thought might be dominants, and I couldn’t help but wonder if her shyness was just the expression of a hidden submissive side.

  Looking around me, I grinned as I made a quick assessment: Natalia could do a lot worse than the men in here. The Spanish guys were as impressive as the music. Granted, there was a lot more slicked-back hair than you might see in an English nightclub, which wasn’t really my taste, but when added to dark eyes, intense stares, and tanned skin, it combined to create some pretty spectacular handsomeness.

  It might have looked like I was window-shopping the Spanish men, which I was slightly, under the guise of chatting with Natalia, but in reality, my gaze kept drifting towards the only blond men in here – Marcus and Nathan.

  Marcus had been on my radar all night, as he usually was these days if I was in the same room as him, but so far, he hadn’t glanced my way even once.

  We clearly hadn’t managed to sort out our differences the other day when he’d helped me move my stuff, but that didn’t mean I’d managed to move on from the way I felt about him. I tried not to think about him or look at him, but it just didn’t work; the back of my neck would tingle whenever he was close, and eventually my brain and eyes would overpower my rational thought and drag me back to him again and again and again.

  It was irritating as fuck. I never let men get under my skin like this.

  Marcus stood at the bar with Nathan and his brother, Nicholas. They might not have the sun-bronzed tans of the Spaniards who surrounded them, but as a trio they still made for a spectacular sight. Something about their confidence and intensity oozed attractiveness, and even though Marcus was my main focus, it was clear to see that all three were very gifted in the looks department.

  They were sipping beers and talking, and as much as I kept glancing his way and hoping to catch Marcus’s eye, I noticed that his shoulder was slanted away from my direction and he seemed to be resolutely ignoring me. Maybe the cluster-fuck at my apartment had been the final straw for him, or perhaps he just wasn’t aware that I was here tonight. The idea that he had managed to move on from our connection – something I hadn’t been able to do in the slightest – caused a pain to constrict my chest for a few seconds and I had to lift a hand and rub at my sternum in an effort at easing it.

  Bloody man. A touch on my arm broke my depressing thoughts and I reluctantly pulled my gaze away from Marcus’s broad back to find Natalia speaking to me. It was too loud to hear her properly, so I leaned in closer, glad of the distraction.

  ‘I’m going to get some water, you want some?’

  I nodded with a smile and fanned my face to indicate how hot it was in here. ‘Yes, please.’ This place might be air-conditioned, but once you added two hundred dancing, sweaty bodies to the mix it didn’t seem to be making much impact.

  Natalia disappeared into the crowd, and I forced myself to remain turned away from Marcus so I could concentrate on enjoying myself. Over the next few minutes I let the beat wash over me, lifting my arms and closing my eyes as I swayed to the rhythm and thought of nothing but the music.

  OK, so the occasional image of a certain tall blond chef with skilled fingers and a magical tongue might have entered my mind from time to time, but overall, I managed to forget about him.

  The feel of warm hands settling on my waist startled me from my trance, and a thrilled shiver ran up my spine as I imagined tilting my head up and finding Marcus standing over me. When my eyes flew open however, I saw a tall, broad Spaniard invading my personal space and grinning down at me as he attempted to match my rhythm and dance with me.

  That was most certainly not Marcus.

  My lip curled in distaste and as I abruptly stopped moving. There was an awkward moment where he continued to dance against me while I just stood there, leaning away from him with a perturbed expression on my face.

  How bloody dare he interrupt my dancing?

  ‘¡Hola, señorita! Let me dance with you.’ His English might have been a little broken, but I still frowned at the way his words had veered towards a demand and not a polite request.

  Shaking my head, I stepped back to dislodge his grip. ‘No, thank you. I’m with a friend.’

  He glanced around and smiled with teeth that had definitely been whitened – just a touch too much in my opinion – before once again moving forwards into my personal space. ‘But they are not here now, no? So, we can dance?’

  He moved his hands to my waist again, this time gripping harder and digging his fingers in so I couldn’t step back. ‘No. Thank you.’ I reached down to prise his hands off, but his fingers were like a bloody vice.

  ‘Let go of me,’ I grated with as much volume as I could, given the background accompaniment of loud dance music. He didn’t, though; he moved closer still until his hips were brushing against mine, and then began grinding himself against me.

  ‘Get off me!’ I spat, wincing from the biting pain in my skin from his grip, and banging uselessly at his arms with my hands to try and free myself.

  ‘You very beautiful,’ he almost crooned, and I gawked at him in utter astonishment. Was this guy for real? I was stunned that he was completely ignoring my request for him to leave me alone. Maybe it was a language barrier thing, but surely me smacking at him and frowning was enough of a clue that I wasn’t encouraging his attention?

  Tiring of him disregarding me, I decided to revert to the international language of violence and swearing; after all, it was one of my strong points.

  Shoving his chest as hard as I could, I rolled onto my tiptoes and got right up in his tanned, sweaty face. ‘I said no, arsehole! Just fuck off, would you?’ I yelled it so loudly that my throat rasped painfully, but at least he’d definitely hear me over the music. My push hadn’t dislodged hi
s meaty paws, though, so I began forcibly struggling in his arms, wiggling and slapping at him in an attempt to get away.

  It was hardly a skilled performance of self-defence, and with my slapping and flapping I certainly wouldn’t be winning any awards for my fighting prowess, but with him wilfully ignoring me I didn’t see what other choices I had left. At least this might attract some attention from the nearby dancers so someone would help me get rid of him.

  Just when I was starting to tire of wrestling, his hands vanished in a flash of movement. As I stood there rubbing at my sore hip bones where he’d been grabbing me, I tried to work out how and why he’d finally let go of me. I turned and saw that the guy was now on the floor with a very angry Marcus straddling him and raising a clenched fist to deliver a punch.

  Bloody hell! Realisation dawned, and my eyes widened. The flash of movement had been Marcus rugby tackling the guy off me.

  ‘She said no, you fucker!’ Marcus rained punches down on the guy at such a rate that I could barely keep up. It felt like hours passed as I stood there with a hand clamped over my mouth in shock, watching him smack my unwanted admirer, but in reality, it was probably just a second or two until Nathan intervened and split them up.

  Marcus and Nathan disappeared towards the exit, dragging the guy out of the club – or perhaps taking him to the bouncers to continue with his battering, who knew? – leaving me standing there frozen in shock.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Marcus

  This fucker was so big, he must have weighed a tonne, but I was so ramped up on my fury that his bulk barely registered as I dragged his protesting body from the club out into the reception area.

  My fingers were biting into his upper arm so hard that he was whimpering now, pleading with me in Spanish and trying desperately to pry my hand off, but there was no fucking way I was letting go yet.