His Brother's Bride

~ Lily ~

"Lily, darling, you really need to smile for the cameras," my mother insisted, her voice sharp and almost rehearsed, as if she had been practicing in front of a mirror for days. I managed a smile and lifted my champagne glass, careful not to spill a single drop. The engagement party for Adrian Stone and me was in full swing at the Ritz in London, and the place was alive with chatter, laughter, and the occasional clink of glasses. Everywhere I looked, I could feel eyes on me—journalists, socialites, family friends, all waiting for me to step into a role I was hesitant to take on.

"I’m fine, Mom," I mumbled, taking a small sip of the bubbly drink, hoping no one would notice how anxious I felt. My hands were trembling just a bit.

"Fine? Sweetheart, you need to look happy. You’re marrying into the Stones! Do you have any idea what this means for our family?"

"Yes, Mother. I get it," I replied, keeping my tone polite but strained. I forced another smile, more for the sake of those around us than for my own feelings.

Sophia, my closest friend, leaned in from behind and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Breathe, Lily. You look like you’re about to pass out." She gave me a small, reassuring smile. I felt a wave of relief wash over me at her support.

"I just… I can’t," I whispered, my voice barely rising above the hum of conversation around us. "It’s just too much.”

Sophia’s expression softened as she spoke. “I get it, my dear. But you’ll be just fine tonight. After this, it’s just the wedding, and then it’s all behind you.”

I took a deep breath and nodded, raising my glass again. This time, the champagne burned slightly as it went down my throat, and I realized I needed a little more to settle my nerves. One glass turned into two, then three, and before I knew it, the room started to blur slightly.

“You look stunning, Lily,” a deep voice said from beside me. I blinked and turned to see who it was. Julian, Adrian's older brother, dressed sharply in a tailored suit, his warm gaze brought a strange, fleeting sense of comfort. I didn’t know him that well, yet in my slightly tipsy state, I felt an undeniable pull towards the easy confidence he radiated.

“Thank you,” I murmured, realizing my words were a bit slurred. “I’m… just a little tired, I guess.”

He nodded, his expression calm yet attentive. “That makes sense. Events like this can be pretty overwhelming.”

Before I could respond, Sophia was back at my side, noticing how unsteady I was. “Lily, let’s get you upstairs,” she said gently, linking her arm through mine. I didn’t put up much of a fight; my legs felt like jelly.

“Just… a second,” I mumbled, trying to maintain some dignity, but Sophia shot me a look that made it clear there would be no arguing. In no time, she had guided me out of the lively ballroom, past the laughter and chatter, into the quiet hotel corridor.

“Here, just stay here for a moment,” she said, opening the door to one of the hotel rooms. “I’ll stay with you. You’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

I flopped down on the edge of the bed, feeling the room sway a bit. “Thanks,” I whispered, shutting my eyes for a moment.

Sophia stayed by my side, fussing a little as she tucked the blankets around me. “I’ll let you rest for a bit. You really need to sober up before all the wedding stuff tomorrow.”

“Yeah… I know,” I mumbled, letting the weight of the alcohol pull me down.

Minutes ticked by, and I could hear muffled footsteps in the hallway outside. The door creaked open, and a tall figure stumbled in, mumbling something I couldn’t quite catch. I opened my eyes slowly, squinting in the dim light to see a man standing there, clearly a bit lost.

He glanced around, blinked a few times, and then turned toward the bed where I was lying. “This… this is my room, right?” His voice was deep and slurred, but there was a hint of uncertainty in it.

“I… uh… I don’t think so,” I replied weakly, propping myself up a bit. “I’m… I’m staying here.”

He frowned, rubbing his forehead as if trying to clear his thoughts. “Oh… right, sorry. I must have… uh… gotten confused.” He paused, then took a careful step closer, probably trying to steady himself.

For some reason, the way he moved, the unintentional closeness, the way his gaze softened for just a moment made my heart race. The combination of alcohol and exhaustion was completely clouding my judgment.

Before I fully understood what was happening, he leaned in a little closer, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You’re… uh… okay?" His voice had a rough edge, hinting at his own uncertainty.

"I… think so," I managed to reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

Then, I felt a warm pressure on my lips—soft yet persistent. I was taken aback for a moment, but the alcohol had dulled my inhibitions. I instinctively leaned into the kiss, despite the confusion, excitement, and the ridiculousness of the situation.

His hands found their way to my shoulders, then slid down to my back, guiding me gently as the kiss deepened. My hands moved to his chest, feeling the warmth beneath the fabric of his suit. It all felt surreal. All boundaries had faded away in the haze of the moment.

I felt his lips travel to my neck, a gentle pressure that sent shivers through me. My fingers tangled in his hair as he cupped my face, and a breathless moan escaped my lips before I even realized it. The sensation was intoxicating, and I didn’t want it to end.

We drew closer, our bodies pressing against each other. My hands explored his back, feeling the strong muscles beneath his suit. His lips left my neck to find mine again, deeper this time both demanding and tender. I moaned, trembling against him as his hands roamed my sides, cupping and squeezing my breasts, pulling me even closer.

Every touch sparked a fire inside me. My body instinctively leaned into his, responding to the intimacy in ways that made my heart race and my thoughts drift away. He drew closer, his warmth enveloping me completely, and I surrendered to the closeness the softness of his lips, the tenderness of his hands, and the intensity of the moment.

We tumbled onto the bed together. His lips glided along my shoulders and collarbone, teasing the sensitive skin, making me arch and gasp in delight. My hands roamed, exploring him, feeling his chest and the contours of his body.

Every touch, every kiss, every press of our bodies against each other cranked up the heat between us. My moans grew louder, shaky and breathless, as he mirrored my responses, holding me close, guiding, teasing, exploring, both of us lost in the sensations we had ignited.

Time became irrelevant. I felt the intensity build—the closeness, the warmth, the urgent heat pressing between us. Every movement, every shiver fueled the rhythm of our bodies. His hands roamed, cupping, caressing, tracing curves and lines, while my fingers tangled in his hair and along his back.

Eventually, our movements began to slow down, the passion gradually fading. We stayed close, breathing heavily, our bodies entwined. My heart was racing, and every caress and kiss sent a buzz through my skin. I felt utterly exhausted, yet vibrantly alive, wrapped up in the heat and intensity of the moment.

Finally, fatigue took over. I could feel him pulling me closer, his warmth still radiating against me, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. My eyelids grew heavy, and the comforting weight of his presence gently lulled me into a deep, dreamy sleep, my last thoughts swirling with the excitement and wonder of the night.