Playing With Her Heart (Caught Up In Love #4)(69)
Author: Lauren Blakely

For now, I keep my eyes on the bride and groom as the justice of the peace begins the proceedings.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate one of the greatest joys in life and witness the union of Bryan Leighton and Kat Harper in marriage, which is an institution ordained by the state and made honorable by the faithful keeping of good men and women,” he says. “Marriage is founded upon sincerity, trust, and mutual love.” Then he pauses, as if preparing for a quip. “As well as a mutual love of movies, coffee drinks and Paris.”

I beam, and so does Kat, and it’s all so true because that’s how Kat and Bryan fell in love again.

“Kat and Bryan have a strong and solid foundation. They support each other, they care for each other and, as I understand it, Bryan is quite good at making her laugh.”

Now it’s Bryan’s turn to smile proudly. He won Kat back into his heart in many ways, but especially because he always made her laugh.

Then the justice of the peace grows more serious. “They are each other’s true and forever loves, and today they take that pledge before God, family and friends.” He turns to Bryan. “Do you, Bryan, take Kat to be your lawful wedded wife?”

“I do.”

“Will you love, respect and honor her in all your years together?”

“I will.”

Then he turns to Kat.

“Do you, Kat, take Bryan to be your lawful wedded husband?”

“I do,” she says.

“Will you love, respect and honor him in all your years together?”

“I will.”

After they exchange rings, the justice of the peace says the words we’ve all come to hear. “By the power vested in me by the state of Connecticut, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Bryan steps forward and kisses his new wife, as a tear of happiness slides down my cheek, and I sneak a look at the beautiful man in the third row, who’s already looking at me.

* * *

Later, the bride and groom dance as dusk falls, the rest of us joining them on the dance floor in that kind of hazy, lingering after-the-cake-has-been eaten way as the wedding party winds down.

“I know the bride is supposed to be the most beautiful woman here, but you’ll always hold that title for me,” Davis says, as he takes me in his arms for a spin on the dance floor. Strings of lights twinkle from the canopy above us. I can smell the salt water from the lazy ocean waves, rocking the shores gently after twilight.

“As it should be.”

“And I suspect you’ll be equally stunning tomorrow night on the red carpet,” he says. “Have I told you how proud I am of you?”

“Only twenty million times,” I say playfully, moving closer to him, because I am unable to stay away. He’s been back from London for several weeks now, and I can’t get enough of him. Even though I saw him once a week while he was gone, it wasn’t nearly enough, and we’ve been making up for all that lost time. Tonight is my first Saturday evening off since I took over as Ava on opening night. But I have a good understudy in Shelby, and I’m sure she’s kicking ass and taking names right now back in Manhattan. The theater will be dark tomorrow night, but Davis and I will be walking the red carpet into Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center for the 68th Annual Tony Awards since we were both nominated for Crash the Moon.

“And I’m proud of you. You’re still my favorite director,” I say as I play with the collar on his shirt.

He laughs. “Your only director.”

“Hey! Just because I’m still working my first job, doesn’t mean I can’t have a favorite.” Then my hands stray to the buttons on his shirt and I start to fiddle with the top one. As I do, I flash back to our first kiss in his office, to how I couldn’t resist touching him then either.

The mood shifts between us as he grips my hand, and tugs me tighter against him. His voice is rough and heated. “Jill, when you do that, it makes me want to undress you, too.”

A ribbon of heat runs through me. “Then we should get out of here because that’s my favorite outfit to wear with you—nothing.”

After we say our goodbyes, we duck into a town car that will take us all the way back into Manhattan and down to Tribeca where we live. Davis hits the button for the partition. “Such a long ride back to the city. Whatever will we do,” he muses as he fingers the short hem on my black and white dress.

“I have no idea how we could pass the time,” I say, as he grabs my h*ps and shifts me on top of him so I’m straddling him in the car. He brushes his lips against my throat, trailing his tongue between my br**sts as he hikes up my skirt.

“Take those off,” he tells me, and I quickly shed my panties as he unzips the crisp gray slacks he wore to the wedding. I inch them down his hips, licking my lips reflexively as the boxer briefs slide down too.

Then he grabs me and brings me down on him, and I moan loudly at the delicious feeling of him inside me. I move on him, slowly, taking my time because it’s a two-hour ride back to the city, but even so it doesn’t take me long because he knows what to do to bring me over the edge. He always has, he always will, and we come together one more time.

Once we reach Manhattan, the car heads down Columbus Avenue and Davis leans forward and raises the partition to talk to the driver. “Can you make a stop at Lincoln Center?”

“Yes, sir,”

I give him a curious look.

“Getting a head start on tomorrow?”

“Perhaps,” he says evasively.

When we stop, he opens the door and reaches for my hand. I’m not quite sure what the plan is, but I go along with it, as we head up the steps of the plaza outside Lincoln Center. The fountain shoots sprays of water high above us in a majestic pattern, lit brightly on a summer night. We are surrounded by the ballet, the theater, the orchestra, the opera, and Juilliard. This is the heartbeat of the arts in New York City, and it’s always felt like a hamlet to me.

He stops at the fountain and pulls me in close. “I’ve always wanted to kiss you by the fountains at Lincoln Center. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all,” I say, as he brushes his lips against mine, kissing me slowly at first, tenderly, then claiming my mouth with his in the way I love, the way that makes me feel like I’m his, because that’s all I want to be.

When he breaks the kiss, I am still stunned. Because kisses from him only get better, and I can feel this one in my knees, in my toes, all the way in my fingertips. “You’re such a romantic,” I tell him.