Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“Careful, Riggs, or I might suspect you actually want to marry me.” I tried to sound casual.
“I do want to marry you.” He killed the call and glanced at me. “Emmett’s going to have a really shitty time when I text him a copy of that marriage certificate.”
An hour later, Riggs and I stood in front of a court clerk and exchanged our vows. Riggs’s friends surrounded us in the simple, albeit offensively brown, room. Our backdrop consisted of wooden walls and a judge stand. The clerk was wearing a black robe. A fairy-tale wedding it was not.
The clerk introduced herself as Allison. Allison was extremely nice and seemed enthusiastic about her job marrying people, which deepened my guilt, since in our situation, the bride was in love with another man’s wallet and the groom was probably going to spend tonight with a different woman. Or two.
“Are you lovebirds ready to get hitched?” Allison shimmied her shoulders.
“Been ready my entire life for this woman,” Riggs confirmed with one of his dazzling smirks. Allison purred. His smiles should 100 percent be outlawed. The man could knock a woman up with a smirk alone.
“You’re doing amazing,” Winnie whispered in my ear, squeezing my hand.
“God,” I moaned. “Why did you say that? Do I look that frightened?”
Winnie flashed a warm smile. “Just a tiny bit.”
What was she doing with Satan’s more sadistic cousin? I wasn’t sure, but props to her for taking him off the market.
“You’re such a beautiful couple,” Allison gushed, oblivious to the farce she was becoming a part of.
“Believable too,” Arsène deadpanned before Winnie elbowed him in the ribs.
“You may hold hands if you wish.” Allison’s eyes ping-ponged between us, likely puzzled by the fact I stood six feet away from my future husband. “No need to be shy. Many couples don’t realize a courthouse wedding can be romantic too.”
Riggs didn’t have to be asked twice. He comically flicked away Winnie’s hold on me and grabbed both my hands, jolting me close. His touch was warm and dry and full of strength. I couldn’t believe I was marrying the same impossibly hunky god I’d caught only a few weeks ago screwing my former boss. Gretchen seemed like a distant memory now.
Allison began the ceremony with the “dearly beloved” speech I knew so well from the dozens of weddings I’d attended in my life back in London before reminding us of our duties and roles in marriage. The entire time, I had an out-of-body experience. I couldn’t believe my parents weren’t here—that they didn’t even know about the wedding. Plus, the part I had been trying to push into my unconsciousness finally reared its ugly head. I was going to be a married woman when BJ came back to New York. Our relationship was doomed from the start.
Riggs threaded his fingers through mine, tickling the inside of my palms in a bewitching way that made every hair on my body stand on end. When my eyes met his, he grinned.
“Hey, kid.” Riggs winked.
My entire being somersaulted. “Hello, old man.”
He laughed. I ducked my head and blushed. In our periphery, Christian slapped his forehead. “This has farce written all over it.” He grimaced. “In Riggs’s cum.”
“I believe you just lost a bet,” Arsène drawled.
“She seemed more levelheaded last time we met her,” Christian explained defensively.
“No woman is immune to the charm of Riggs Bates,” Arsène hissed. “He could seduce a nun in between bites on his lunch break.”
I was about to turn around and remind them I was literally right there, listening, when Allison decided it was time to get real.
“Are you, Riggs Carson Bates, free lawfully to marry Daphne Helen Marie Markham?”
“I am.”
“And are you, Daphne Helen Marie Markham, free lawfully to marry Riggs Carson Bates?”
“Yes.” My voice came out thick and awkward.
Allison smiled. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Riggs tugged me toward him by our linked hands. Then, smoothly—so smooth I didn’t realize what was happening at first—his hand wrapped around my waist and his lips locked in on mine. Unlike our subway kiss, this wasn’t a peck. It was a kiss kiss. With intention, wrath, and enough passion to burn down the entire place. His mouth opened against mine. My eyelids slid shut, and a feeling of drunken, achy euphoria took over as the tip of my husband’s tongue reached to touch mine.
A hot wave rocked through my body, and I clutched the lapels of his shirt while his tongue swirled around mine, circling it, rough and full of purpose. My breath hitched before I started chasing his tongue with my own. Soon, we were full blown snogging, really kissing, and I forgot everything non-Riggs related. Like time. And place. And myself. Goose bumps danced along my back.
His long fingers laced through my hair and moved across the back of my head until he grabbed the back of my neck. He leaned in, deepening our kiss. I groaned into his mouth. He laughed into mine.