Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Speak for yourself,” Julien says.
“Don’t worry, he only seems grumpy because he’s nervous.” Jean smiles at me in the rearview mirror.
“I didn’t know he cared,” I say, leaning back to look at Julien. “What’s the matter? Afraid I’m going to leave you at the altar?”
“You’d better not,” he says and a slight gleam enters his eyes. “Or then again, go ahead and run. Maybe it would be fun chasing you down.”
My mouth opens slightly and I lick my lips, picturing him grabbing me from behind, pinning me down on the ground, ripping off my dress—
“Save this sexual tension for the wedding night, will you?” Jean says with a friendly laugh. “Here I was thinking this was going to be awkward, and yet you two are already acting like an old married couple.”
“He wishes,” I say, sinking back into my seat.
We park in the courthouse’s garage and ride the elevators up to the top floor. Jean leads us through security and down a long hallway, away from the trial rooms and toward the judge’s private chambers. Julien takes my hand before we head inside and pulls me up against him.
“Now’s your last chance to change your mind,” he says quietly. Jean politely pretends like he can’t hear any of this.
“I’m fine. I’m not going anywhere.”
Julien’s stare is intense and unrelenting. “I mean it, mon minou. If you aren’t sure, this is your last opportunity. Turn around, walk away, and I won’t hold it against you.”
I look over my shoulder at the empty hallway. It’s quiet, only the hum of the air exchanges cutting through the silence, and I picture myself running away.
But running to what? Back to my father’s house? Back to the scorn of the cousins? I’ve had enough of that life.
“Let’s go inside,” I say, and Julien nods.
The judge is a nice older man in his sixties, heavyset, with a low baritone voice and a big smile. Jean’s acting as a witness, and the judge runs us through the paperwork with practiced ease. “Julien here requested an abbreviated ceremony for efficiency’s sake,” the judge says with a laugh. “But even so, I like to at least do the vows. Would you mind?”
I shake my head and shrug out of my jacket. “Not at all.”
The judge’s eyes sparkle with joy as he instructs us to face each other. I place my hands in Julien’s, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only person in the entire world, which is actually kind of intimidating. I keep forgetting how big he is, how athletic and strong, how attractive his mouth is and how much I like the curve of his jaw. I could see myself kissing that line, over and over, and listening to his husky breath in my ear.
His gaze moves down my bare arms and lingers on my chest before settling on my lips. I lick them, just for him, and he seems to like it.
“Repeat after me,” the judge says and walks Julien through the vows.
“I, Julien, take thee, Brianne, to be my wedding wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”
My heart races. My feet are numb. My hands tingle in his grip. My mouth is dry, and each word he says, each phrase of the vows we’re taking rip themselves into my chest and straight into my core. It only occurs to me how serious this is, what an enormous leap I’m making, and my voice shakes as I repeat them to Julien. He stands still, listening the whole time.
When I finish, the judge gestures with both hands. “By the power vested in me and all that, you’re now husband and wife. This is the part where you kiss.”
I open my mouth to protest. We weren’t supposed to do that—this is just a courthouse marriage, basically just a formality, we’re only saying the vows to humor the judge—but I can’t make a sound.
Julien’s mouth closes on mine. He puts a hand on my lower back to steady me, and he kisses me deep and slow. His taste floods my tongue, minty and warm, a hint of musk and whiskey, and I find myself kissing him back with a head spinning in big circles, breathless and mindless, falling into the sort of kiss that makes no promises, nothing good and nothing bad, but hints at a whole world of pleasure if only I don’t let it escape.
But the moment I decide I’m not going to stop, he breaks away. I blink rapidly as Jean whistles and claps, and Julien’s hand is still on the small of my back, he’s still standing close to me, and my heart’s straight up into my throat.
More paperwork. A marriage license, stuff about taking his name, all that. I sign, numb, lips still tingling.