On the eve of his wedding to Brianne Whitcomb, Eric Davenport sat next to the bed where his fiancée lay, waiting for the sound that could mean the end of his life as he knew it, or at least, the end of his life with Brianne.
As vice-president of the company that had made his father a multi-millionaire before he was forty, Eric had been blessed with a privileged upbringing and the knowledge he’d always have a place in his father’s business. He’d known how lucky he was and enjoyed life to the fullest. But lately he’d been restless. Dissatisfied. And his general dissatisfaction had started to spill over into everything: work, home, even his relationship with Brianne. He’d sensed the same dissatisfaction in her, but chalked it up to stress, telling himself once the wedding was over, things would get back to normal.
Then a week ago, he’d discovered the truth.
God, Brianne, what a mess we’ve gotten ourselves into, he thought.
Brianne was fast asleep, clearly exhausted from visiting with friends and family at the rehearsal dinner earlier that night, not to mention all the work that went into planning a high society wedding. Even if she hadn’t been an event planner, Brianne’s perfectionism and sense of aesthetic would have made planning the wedding a difficult task, but add in her chosen profession, and she’d been determined to throw an event people would talk about for years.
The funny thing was, despite her ties to high society, Brianne was one of the most down-to-earth, sweet, and kind women in the world, not to mention drop-dead gorgeous with a body made for sin. It was no wonder he’d jumped at the chance to date her when it presented itself, and what had followed had been six terrific years.
Only now he suspected they’d been fooling themselves. Now he wondered if the fact the whole world viewed them as the perfect couple—the man and woman who came from similar backgrounds, shared similar interests, and never fought—had somehow disguised the fact they were actually better suited as friends than lovers.
Now he was playing devil’s advocate, disregarding all the reasons that he and Brianne belonged together, and focusing on the reasons that indicated that might not be true.
One very big reason specifically.
He wished he didn’t have to. That he could dismiss his concerns as typical wedding jitters. He wished he could climb into bed with Brianne right now.
Take her in his arms.
Tell her how much he loved her.
Tell her how excited he was to be exchanging vows with her the next day in front of all their family and friends.
It was what he should be doing. How he should be feeling.
He’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. But that was when he’d convinced himself she felt the same way.
Instead, Eric was probably going to have to do something that his family and friends weren’t going to understand, something that could in all likelihood make Brianne hate him—at least at first. Though to be fair, he told himself, if he called off the wedding it probably wouldn’t come as a complete surprise to Brianne. She’d sensed something was off between them as well. Earlier, she’d even questioned whether Eric was having second thoughts.
What she didn’t talk about was the reasons she might be having second thoughts.
In that moment, as if she could read his mind, Brianne stirred, stretching her arms and legs out, and smiling in a way he’d never actually seen before. Then she sighed. The sound was breathy and sexual. Her hand rose, cupping her breast, and she massaged the lush mound, giving away the intensity of her dream even before she moaned.
Eric closed his eyes and listened to the words that spilled from her lush lips.
She said she wanted him. She said she needed him.
Only the name she spoke wasn’t Eric’s.
It was Eric’s best friend’s name.