“Fuck!” She yelled in his ear, and he felt her cunt quiver around him.

That was all he needed to know. He pushed into her, hard, rough, and she gave a little scream, her body clenching around him as she came.

He thrust rough and hard and then he came himself, his release finally roaring through him so fiercely that black spots swam before his eyes and he momentarily lost his breath. He gave her another slow stroke, finishing his orgasm, and then fell forward onto her, their damp skin sticking together as they both sought to catch their breath.

And . . . damn if that wasn’t an amazing fuck. The best he’d ever had. With a gusty sigh, he gave her another quick kiss and then rolled off of her so he didn’t crush her with his weight.

Marjorie made a soft sound of protest as he did. “You weren’t heavy. I liked the way you felt.”

“I like the way you feel underneath me,” he said, skimming a hand down her sweat-damp flesh. “But I should probably take this condom off.” Reluctantly, he hauled out of bed and went to the bathroom and cleaned himself up. Then, he returned with a damp washcloth and gestured at Marjorie. “Let me do the honors.”

Her face flushed bright red, but she obediently opened her legs for him, and he bathed her tender tissues, noting that she had bled a little, but not a ton. Good. He hadn’t wanted to hurt his virgin.

Virgin no longer, though. He couldn’t help feeling a little pride at that. Marjorie was now his, body and soul. He returned the washcloth to the bathroom and then climbed back into bed with her, dragging her body against his and tangling his legs with her long, slim ones.

“Stay the night with me,” he told her, pressing kisses against her shoulder blades as they spooned. “I sleep better when you’re against me.”

“I have to wake up early,” she cautioned him, but she didn’t move a muscle to get out of bed.

“I’ll set the alarm. Just stay with me.”

“Always,” she murmured softly, and as his hand cupped her breast, her hand covered his.

And it felt fucking perfect.

“I love you,” she said softly to him.

Rob only squeezed her tighter against him, dread clenching in his stomach. She might love him now, but what about tomorrow, when she learned the truth about who he really was?

Chapter Twenty-one

For some reason, Rob was sweating, even though the temperature on the thermostat read a balmy 74 degrees. Marj adjusted his tie for him and then smoothed a hand down the shoulders of his black formal jacket. “You okay?”

He gave her a distracted smile. “Great. Peachy.”

Marjorie nodded, but didn’t bring it up again. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Rob was unhappy at having to attend the rehearsal dinner with her, but she didn’t want to back down. This meant something to her. This meant he’d come out in front of all of her friends and would show them just how much being with her meant to him.

And she needed that. She needed that badly. So she put aside any twinges of misgiving at Rob’s stiff attitude. Last night had more than made up for any hint of distraction today. Dreamily, she put on the last touches of her makeup in his mirror and tried not to think about how incredibly intimate—and mind-blowing—losing her virginity had been. She’d expected it to be good. With Rob, she’d expected it to be great. But she hadn’t quite anticipated three leg-noodling orgasms in a row that sent her screaming over the edge, and cussing. The way he’d been able to bring her body to orgasm had been downright shameless, and she was already anticipating tonight. Gretchen had laughingly given all of the bridesmaids expensive sex toys as gifts yesterday, and Marjorie had blushed, mortified, when she’d received her intimidating looking “rabbit” vibrator. Now she was wondering if Rob would use it on her and how that would feel.

But then her lipstick was finished, and she looked at the clock, and it was time to go. “I suppose we should head on down,” she told him.

“That’s fine,” Rob said, his voice surprisingly toneless. “I’m ready when you are.”

She emerged from the bathroom and smiled at him, hoping he’d approve of her dress. It was a peachy thing made of a floaty chiffon that tied under her breasts and her neck and made her long form look willowy. She’d loved it, but it was too flimsy and formal for anything but a wedding. Tonight, however, it was perfect, and she felt a bit like a princess, especially with her sparkly heels . . . and her very own Prince Charming on her arm.

“Shall we go?” she prompted when he didn’t move.

He looked over at her then, and it seemed as if he was focusing on her for the first time. To her surprise, he pulled her against him and took her mouth in a hard, passionate kiss that made her dazed with pleasure. When he finally pulled away, she was breathless and her trembling fingers moved to his lips to wipe her lipstick off. “W-what was that for?”

“That was because you’re beautiful and I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.”

Marjorie smiled. That was close to an admission of love. Close. “I love you,” she said softly. “Thank you for coming with me.”

The smile he gave her was grim. “No need to thank me.”

Marjorie fought the impending sense of doom as they left Rob’s room and headed down to the lobby of the hotel. The Red Ballroom had been reserved for the rehearsal dinner, and it was on the main floor, down a private hall. And Marjorie held Rob’s hand, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt beautiful and confident despite the fact that she was six inches taller than her date in her high heels. With Rob, it didn’t matter, because he made her feel beautiful no matter what.

When they got to the double doors, there was a bodyguard in a tuxedo checking names. They stood in line with other chatting, formally dressed people, but Marjorie didn’t recognize them. Rob seemed to grow even more nervous, and his hand was squeezing hers tightly. Was Rob . . . shy? Was that the problem? He didn’t seem like the type.

They got to the door, and Marjorie smiled at the man with the clipboard. “Marjorie Ivarsson and date.”

“Date’s name?” the man asked, scanning his list with a pen.

Odd that they should ask. “Rob Cannon.”

The guard looked up and frowned at them. “Please wait here.”

“Marjorie,” Rob said as they stepped aside. The guard slipped into the room, closing the double doors behind him.

She frowned. “Maybe the wedding party is supposed to go through a different door? I didn’t ask.”

“It’s not you,” Rob told her. “It’s me. I should leave.”

“What? No, I want you here with me,” Marjorie told him, panic and hurt threading through her. “You’re my date. I don’t see why that’s an issue.”

“You’ll see,” he said in a low, defeated voice.

The doors to the dining hall swung open and out stormed Logan. He was followed by two big men in tuxedos that were clearly security, and they headed straight for Marjorie and Rob.

“You piece of shit,” Logan snarled, pointing at her date. “I can’t believe you have the balls to come here.” He rushed forward and grabbed Rob by the lapels of his jacket.

Marjorie gave a little scream, looking on in dismay. “What’s going on?”

“It’s okay, Marjorie,” Rob said, an unnatural smile on his face. He put his hands in the air, as if conceding a battle. “My friend Logan here is just a little upset I came to his party.”

“I warned you a dozen times about fucking with my wedding,” Logan said, and for a horrible moment, Marjorie thought Logan was going to punch Rob.

“I invited him,” she said, stepping up when it didn’t look like Rob was going to defend himself.

Logan looked over at her, as if seeing her for the first time, and then back at Rob. His sneer grew worse. “Really? Even after I warned you?”