The Bachelorette Party

The text comes at midnight.

Can you pick up Jess? She's too drunk to drive and I have an early meeting. She's at Velvet downtown.

I stare at my wife's message. Then at the clock. Then back at the message.

Why can't Kevin get her?

Bachelor party. Vegas.

Right. My brother is in Vegas, getting drunk with his groomsmen, while his fiancee is getting drunk with her bridesmaids. The wedding is in three weeks. I'm the best man. My wife is the maid of honor.

We're all one big happy family.

On my way, I type.

I grab my keys and try not to think about why my pulse is racing.

Jessica Chen is not my type.

That's what I tell myself, anyway. She's too athletic—all lean muscle and sharp angles, a former college soccer player who still runs six miles every morning. She's too intense, too competitive, too much.

She's also marrying my brother in three weeks, which makes her completely, absolutely off-limits.

So why can't I stop looking at her?

I find her outside Velvet, leaning against the building.

She's wearing a short black dress and a sash that says BRIDE TO BE. Her dark hair is messy, her makeup smudged, and she's laughing at something one of her friends said.

Then she sees me.

The laughter stops. Something else crosses her face—surprise, maybe. Or something darker.

"Marcus." She pushes off the wall, wobbles, catches herself. "Of course Emily sent you."

"She had an early meeting."

"Sure she did." She smirks. "Couldn't send a cab? Had to send you?"

"I was available."

"Mmm." She looks me up and down—slow, deliberate. "You're always available, aren't you? Always the good brother. The reliable one."

"Jess—"

"Let's go." She hooks her arm through mine. "Before I say something I'll regret."

I call a cab instead of driving.

Bad idea. Good idea. I can't tell anymore.

She slides into the back seat, all long legs and exposed thigh. I slide in after her. The cab smells like air freshener and bad decisions.

"Where to?" the driver asks.

"Maple Street." I give him the address of the house she shares with Kevin—the house she'll officially move into after the wedding.

"Not yet." Jess puts her hand on my arm. "Drive around for a bit. I need to sober up."

The driver shrugs. Starts the meter. Pulls into traffic.

We drive in silence for a while. The city slides past the windows—neon and shadows, the last of the Saturday night crowd spilling out of bars.

"Can I ask you something?" Jess says finally.

"Sure."

"Why don't you like me?"

I turn to look at her. "What?"

"You always keep your distance. At family dinners, holidays, whatever. You're polite, but... cold." She shifts closer. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. Of course not."

"Then why?"

Because you're marrying my brother. Because I can't look at you without wanting things I shouldn't want. Because every time you laugh at something Kevin says, I imagine what it would be like if you were laughing at me.

"I don't know what you mean," I say instead.

"Liar."

She's close now. Too close. Her perfume fills my head—something spicy, warm. Her knee touches mine.

"Jess—"

"I've seen how you look at me." Her voice is low, meant only for me. "When you think no one's watching. When Emily's turned away. When Kevin's distracted."

"You're drunk."

"Maybe. But I'm not blind." She puts her hand on my thigh. "And I'm not imagining the way you look at me. Am I?"

My heart is hammering. "You're engaged. To my brother."

"I know."

"This is—we can't—"

"I know that too." Her hand slides higher. "But I need to know. Just once. Before I marry him."

"Know what?"

She leans in. Her lips brush my ear.

"If you want me as badly as I want you."

I should stop her.

I should push her hand away, tell the driver to take us straight home, forget this ever happened. I should be the good brother, the faithful husband, the man everyone thinks I am.

I'm not that man.

I never was.

"Pull over," I tell the driver. "Here."

He stops at a dark corner, next to a closed warehouse. The street is empty. The shadows swallow us.

"Why are we—" Jess starts.

I kiss her.

She moans into my mouth.

Her hands are everywhere—my chest, my shoulders, my hair. She kisses like she's been starving for it, like she's been waiting for this as long as I have.

"Fuck," she breathes. "I knew it. I knew you wanted me."

"Since the first time Kevin introduced us." My hand finds her thigh, slides higher. "Three years of watching you, wanting you, hating myself for it."

"Same." She's working at my belt. "Every family dinner, sitting across from you, imagining this."

"Your husband is my brother."

"Not yet." She frees my cock, wraps her hand around it. "He's not my husband yet."

"And after the wedding?"

She strokes me—slow, firm. "I guess we'll figure that out."

She straddles me.

It's awkward in the back of the cab—she has to duck her head, her knees press into the seat—but she manages. She's not wearing underwear. I feel the heat of her against my cock.

"Driver?" She glances at the front seat.

He's looking at his phone. Headphones in. Either oblivious or well-compensated for his discretion.

"He's not watching," I say.

"Good."

She sinks onto me.

She's tight.

Athletic, lean, her body gripping me like a fist. She gasps as I fill her, then starts to move—fast, urgent, like we're running out of time.

Because we are.

"Fuck," she hisses. "You feel—"

"I know."

"Better than Kevin—"

"Don't." I grab her hips. "Don't talk about him right now."

"Why not?" She rides me harder, her dress bunched around her waist. "He's why this is so hot. Because it's wrong. Because you're his brother, and I'm—fuck—I'm going to marry him, and right now I'm riding your cock in the back of a cab."

She's right. The wrongness is the point. The betrayal makes every sensation sharper.

I thrust up into her. She bites her lip to keep from screaming.

"Harder," she demands. "Make me feel it. Make me remember this when I'm walking down the aisle."

I fuck her harder. The cab rocks. The driver keeps looking at his phone.

"Close—" she gasps. "So close—"

"Come for me." I reach between us, find her clit. "Come on your future brother-in-law's cock."

She shatters.

Her whole body convulses, clenching around me so hard I can't hold back. I bury myself deep and let go—filling her while she shakes, claiming her in the only way I can.

We stay frozen for a moment. Connected. Breathing hard.

Then she laughs.

"Well," she says. "That answered my question."

She climbs off me.

Fixes her dress. Wipes the smeared lipstick from her mouth. By the time the driver pulls onto her street, she looks almost normal.

"This can't happen again," she says as the cab stops.

"I know."

"I'm marrying Kevin."

"I know."

"And you're married to Emily."

"I know."

She looks at me. In the streetlight, her eyes are dark, unreadable.

"But if it did happen again," she says slowly. "Hypothetically. Would you want it to?"

I should say no.

"Yes," I say. "God help me, yes."

She smiles—small, secret.

"The wedding is in three weeks. Kevin will be busy with work, and you'll be helping with setup." She opens the door. "We'll have time."

"Jess—"

"Goodnight, Marcus."

She walks into her house. The door closes behind her.

I tell the driver to take me home. To Emily. To my life.

But all I can think about is the next three weeks.

The wedding comes.

I stand at the altar beside Kevin. He's nervous, sweating, the happiest I've ever seen him. Jess walks down the aisle in white—beautiful, glowing, every inch the perfect bride.

Her eyes meet mine for one moment.

Just one.

And I know this isn't over.

It's just beginning.

The reception is chaos.

Toasts and dancing and a hundred people celebrating a marriage that's already broken. Kevin is drunk and happy. Emily is networking with her law firm colleagues.

Jess finds me near the bar.

"Coat closet," she whispers. "Five minutes."

I should say no.

I follow her instead.

She locks the door behind us.

In the dark, surrounded by coats that smell like champagne and wedding flowers, she hikes up her wedding dress and braces against the wall.

"Quick," she breathes. "Before someone notices."

I'm already hard. Already reaching for her.

I slide in from behind.

"Fuck—" She bites back a moan. "Yes. Right there."

I fuck her fast, brutal, the way she needs. Her white dress is bunched around her hips. Her veil is askew. She's still wearing the ring my brother put on her finger an hour ago.

"Gonna come—" she gasps. "Already—so close—"

"Come for me." I thrust deeper. "Come on your wedding day. While your husband waits for you."

She breaks apart in my arms.

I follow.

We clean up. Return to the party separately. She dances with Kevin while I dance with Emily.

No one knows.

Everyone smiles.

And when Jess catches my eye across the room, I see what's written there:

This is just the beginning.

I raise my glass to my brother's bride.

The beginning of the end.

Or maybe just the beginning.