Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Even as we’re getting married, I want him more than I can breathe.
My turn now.
I take Patton’s platinum ring, the inside etched with our initials like my dress, and I slide it over his finger, binding us forever.
He’s mine.
I’m his.
We belong to each other in every way.
I want to scream it from the rooftops as I stare up into his eyes and see the love, the heat, the softness that waits for me there.
Home isn’t a place after all.
It’s people, and with him in my life, I’ll always have it.
The pastor’s words drift over me like surreal music from another world. I’m listening, but not really, too caught in my almost-husband’s eyes.
When he says something about kissing the bride, though, Patton doesn’t waste a nanosecond.
With one hand on my face, he takes my lips with a claiming fury that curls my toes.
God. It really is ‘till death do us part.’
And I cling to him, my hands finding his shoulders and pulling him closer.
Our first kiss as a married couple leaves me in cinders, smoldering with an indecent thrill after he pulls away.
My. Flipping. Husband.
He hits me with one of those grins I know he can’t hold inside whenever he looks at me.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Rory.” The twinkle in his eye turns wicked. “You just took the most eligible bachelor in Kansas City off the market.”
“We’re not in Kansas anymore. And you’re no Dorothy.” Lame, I know, but at least I meet his grin with my own red-faced smile.
“I sure as hell am not.” Before he can prove exactly how un-Dorothy he is, I turn back to the cheering guests.
Delly’s in the front row, along with Archer and Dexter and Junie. Young Colt sits near the end, watching us. One of the rare times I haven’t seen him looking bored out of his mind, but he’s a good kid, especially considering who’s next to him.
Arlo leans off the chair, laughing and clapping his hands like they’re on fire.
My heart swells with pure love for all the folks assembled today, sharing our special moment. Past and present and future melt into one.
Patton slides my hand into his and we walk back down the aisle, through the confetti shower and rowdy cheers, until we’re at the other end of the boat, laughing.
He kisses me again with a smidge more privacy, ensuring there’s zero chance I’ll catch my breath or my senses.
“We have all night you know,” I tease.
“Get used to not waiting. I’ll be doing this a lot from now on, wife,” he whispers.
My skin flares with heat from head to toe.
“Well, okay. Permission granted.”
“More reason to celebrate.” His next kiss comes slow and deep and that heat rising in my core becomes an inferno. I can’t resist running my hands through his styled hair, mussing it up, loving his noise of annoyance that becomes a groan when I nip his bottom lip. “No whining. Do you know how long it took me to get ready this morning?”
“Long enough to enjoy ruining you.” And that cocky grin on his face tells me that’s a promise.
“Maybe.” I lean back and assess his face. “But you have lipstick on your mouth.”
“Lick it off,” he growls.
Dear God.
For a second, I’m actually a little tempted to tell everyone else to head downstairs for the reception and start the party without us while the boat cruises down the river, but I lean back, both hands flat against his chest.
“Not fair. Our people just want to celebrate with us. Don’t we owe them that? Besides, the cake’s supposed to be crazy. Junie and her gram worked on it all day.”
“The cake, the cake…” His nostrils flare with frustration, but there’s a half smile playing across his lips. “Fine. But we’re leaving early.”
“If you behave yourself.” I drag my hands down his washboard abs toward his pants and the definite bulge there. “We’ll deal with this later. And if you’re really a good boy”—I lean in, delighting when he grabs my hand and moves my fingers against his cock—“I’m going to take my sweet time.”
“Kill me fucking now,” he rasps, but there’s humor in his voice, and he releases me. “Do you want this marriage to end before midnight? Woman, I’ll be dead.”
“Be strong. A little patience, that’s a wonderful wedding present.”
He mutters something gruff and crude under his breath I can’t make out, but I’m definitely snickering.
This man.
His mouth grazes my ear as he links hands and we head back to rejoin the party.
“You’re damn lucky I owe you the world, Salem Rory. I’m going to spend the rest of my life carving it up for you on a silver platter.” He watches me nod, satisfied, and he gives me another one of his patented smug smiles. “Now, how about that celebration?”
The rest of the day blurs by in the sweetest fever dream.