“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “Now, dance with me one more time before I drag you out of here.”
Her arms wound around me, her hands tying behind my neck. I’d never felt anything as perfect as having Cora’s body pressed against mine, her arms holding me close.
“Someone a little excited for the honeymoon?” The little uptick in her voice toward the end alluded to what she was getting at.
And shit. I was getting hard. Hearing her hint, imagining her body pinned below mine . . .
She must have felt it, because she pressed a little closer, lifting her mouth to my ear. “Now you’ve got me all excited too.”
My body trembled against hers while I clamped my eyes closed and tried to erase the image of me moving above her from my mind. She was Jacob’s, I reminded myself. No matter the mistakes he’d made or how he’d betrayed her, when she touched me and whispered things into my ear, she was talking to Jacob. Not me.
“Come on.” Her lips brushed the side of my neck. “Let’s get out of here.”
When her face came around in front of mine again, there was something in her eyes. It almost looked like confusion, but it passed a moment later.
Might have had something to do with the cologne I wore not being anything like the one Jacob did.
Taking her hand, I steered us through a crowd of people who were intent upon slowing us down to shower us with more congratulations and marital advice. I wasn’t sure how never going to bed angry was supposed to be the end-all for a successful marriage, but what the hell did I know?
We’d almost made it inside when I felt a hand clamp over my shoulder. It was a familiar hand touching me in an unfamiliar way. Like I was the golden child. Instead of the tarnished one.
“Hell of a night, son. I’m happy for you.” Dad had a tumbler of scotch in his other hand, looking at me like I was everything he could ever hope for in a son. “I’m happy for you both.” He leaned in to give Cora a quick peck on the cheek, and she responded with a hug.
My dad had never been overly warm with Cora despite the years she’d spent under his roof, but he’d never been cold either. He’d held her at a careful distance, kind of like the way he held me.
Jacob was the only one allowed past that arm’s length distance.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “This was one hell of a day for sure.”
He gave my shoulder one more squeeze before tipping his head inside the house. “Now get out of here and enjoy your honeymoon.”
Cora smiled, the faintest color bleeding into her cheeks. “Thank you for such a nice wedding, Mr. Adams.”
Dad lifted his drink. “Thank you for taking such good care of my son.”
He’d disappeared into the crowd by the time we stepped inside. Dad owned a big commercial real estate company and knew, or was known by, most everyone in Miami’s upper circle. That was the reason for the garishly large wedding. I knew Cora would have preferred to keep it a small, quiet affair. Like myself, she didn’t know most of the people out there toasting to her marriage and happiness. Jacob might have since he and my dad worked together, but he’d gone and missed his own wedding, so most of those guests were here because of my dad —and for the imposter Jacob Adams.
“You have everything packed and ready?” I asked, tugging on the bowtie that had been strangling me like a noose all day.
Cora nodded, climbing the stairs with me, her hand secured in mine. “All I need to do is change and we’re out of here.”
I still didn’t know what I was about to do. Jacob was still missing, and he was supposed to head to an airport and jump on a plane with his wife to go on their ten day honeymoon on St. Thomas. If I told her now what I’d done, she’d be pissed. Like, throw me over the bannister before firing her heels at my smashed body pissed. Cora might have been an angel most of the time, but don’t get in her way when she’s upset. I knew from personal experience.
But I couldn’t just go on her honeymoon and hope she wouldn’t figure out what I’d done and who I was. I couldn’t just share her honeymoon—and all that came with such an important event—with her. If I did, it wouldn’t just be Cora who would kill me once everything came to light—Jacob would too. I’d kill him if our roles had been reversed.
God, it was an impossible situation, and I was starting to doubt my whole plan to act as standin groom earlier. I was in too deep to ’fess up now. Admitting the truth would ruin this whole day more than it probably would have been ruined if I’d just told her earlier that Jacob had left her standing at the altar.
“Could you help with my zipper?” Cora paused outside the door of the guest room she must have been staying in, sliding her hair over her shoulder and turning her back to me.
My fingers forgot how to move.
“Jacob?” Her head titled over her shoulder, waiting.
Nothing like hearing her say his name the way I’d always dreamed of hearing her speak mine to break me out of my temporary stupor.
“Yeah, sure.” I cleared my throat and focused on the zipper. Instead of what was behind the zipper. And how warm and soft and . . . focus. “No problem.”
Once I’d lowered the zipper to the middle of her back, I stopped. There was no way I was lowering it any farther because I wasn’t sure I could restrain myself if I did. I didn’t trust myself.
Cora gave me an amused look when she felt how far, or not far, I’d taken her zipper. “You’re not getting all chaste on me now that we’re married, are you?”
I answered her with a tipped smile, like I guessed Jacob would have, trying to ignore the ache tempting me to shove her up against the wall and prove to her just how not chaste I felt right now.
It seemed to satisfy her. “Good. Because I packed the wrong lingerie if that’s the kind of honeymoon you had in mind.” She left me with a smile that suggested everything I was already imagining, stepping inside the room and closing the door.
My head fell into the wall. Great. Just fucking great.
Cora was presently getting naked inside that room, one closed door away, ready to leave on her honeymoon with me and a suitcase full of filthy lingerie. I wasn’t sure if I was in some kind of temporary heaven or an eternal purgatory, but I was trapped somewhere between a dream and a nightmare.
How could my brother not see what he had? How could he feel anything but unworthy and grateful for the woman who loved him and had just promised to spend forever with him? Did he think he could do better? Did he think anyone could do better than Cora Matthews?!
Realizing what my brother had and how he took her for granted flooded my veins with anger. Rage flooded my system until I found myself storming to Jacob’s old room, shoving inside it, and tearing out of his tux. His suitcases were already here and packed, no doubt thanks to Cora. His dress shirt, slacks, and shoes were all laid out, passports and reservation information neatly arranged on the nearby table.