Page 115 of Dissonance

“God,” I breathe, my head tipping back against his shoulder, eyes closing for a second. “That feels so good.”

“Better?”

I sigh, my hand coming to rest over his. “Mmm.”

Something kicks hard under my ribs, a small, firm protrusion that makes me laugh despite myself. Lockie feels it at the same time, his hand moving, one finger nudging against the little foot pushing back at him through the fabric.

“She’s got some kick in her, huh?” he murmurs, amused.

I glance toward the happy couple, Paige being spun around by one of Maddox’s groomsmen, laughing. “Maybe she’s got a future as a drummer.”

The quiet sound of his agreement rumbles through his chest and into my back, his lips ghosting the shell of my ear before he kisses that spot between my neck and shoulder.

We stand there, watching the wedding party move through the crowd, photographers snapping endlessly, music playing softly somewhere behind us. The venue is ridiculous, in the best way. Maddox Knox did not cheap out when it came to marrying his girl.

Tucked into the hills above Malibu, it’s all glass and steel, overlooking the ocean, the water stretching endlessly out toward the horizon where they said their vows. Staff move seamlessly around the sprawling reception area, white linen and fairy lights strung overhead, roses everywhere.

Security is tight—it would be with Lockie organizing it. A team handpicked by him, discreet but obvious if you knew what to look for. Earpieces, dark suits, eyes moving constantly behind dark sunglasses.

One magazine had been given a controlled window for photos before being escorted back out. Not because they wanted to keep it private—there’s no such thing when you’re one of the hottest bands on the planet—but because this way, they got to decide what people saw. No phones during the ceremony, no leaks, no surprises; it’s a manager’s dream.

“This place is obscene,” Cooper mutters, clapping Lockie on the shoulder as he and Declan join us.

He stops, eyes going wide as Declan keeps moving. “Cooper, what are you—”

“No, wait a sec.” He grabs Lockie’s arm, holding it out as his eyes travel down the length of him. “How come I’ve never seen you in a kilt before?”

“Never needed to wear one.”

“We should get you one,” he says, grinning at his husband. “You’d look hot as hell, and then you could go commando underneath and—”

“Baby, I love you, but you’re making this weird,” Declan says, grabbing his hand and dragging him away.

By the time canapés are served, I’m uncomfortable. This dress was a mistake, but at least it fits. Mostly. It’s tight over my boobs, and I swear I can hear the seams protest with every deep inhale. Which is more than I can say for the three I tried before it. One zip made it halfway before giving up. Another had gone all the way, until I bent slightly and heard the distinct sound of tearing as it split, my ass on full display. I’d stood there, frozen, staring at myself in the mirror, trying so damn hard not to cry.

Lockie hadn’t laughed, hadn’t hesitated either as he crossed the bedroom, taken the fabric in his hands and finished what the zip started, his eyes alight, fingers and lips mapping every inch of my body.

Heat creeps up my neck that has nothing to do with the sun.

“Here, sweetheart,” Lockie says, as Declan comes back with a tray of drinks, reaching for a glass and pressing it into my hand. “Drink.”

“I have been drinking,” I reply, but take a sip anyway. “At this rate, I’ll miss the speeches because I’ll be stuck in the bathroom.”

He makes a non-committal sound, eyes narrowing slightly. “Do you want to sit for a bit?”

“I sat during the ceremony,” I grumble.

“That doesn’t count.”

“You’re being very bossy today,” I say with a scowl. “I don’t know why— Oohh—”

I’m cut off with a groan as his thumb presses into that spot again, the dull ache subsiding a little. He keeps moving, massaging along my lower back, his presence solid behind me. A cheer goes up as Paige and Maddox sweep into the middle of the crowd, someone handing them glasses of champagne, Olive darting in behind Paige to sort out her veil.

She looks unreal, her dress clinging to her curves, her hair half pulled back, the rest tumbling around her shoulders. Maddox doesn’t take his eyes off her, not once. Even when people are talking to him, clapping him on the back, dragging him into conversations, his attention keeps flicking back to his wife.

Lockie shifts behind me, his chin brushing the top of my head.

“They look happy,” I say, my heart squeezing at the sight of them.