Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 135696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
It was unhurried, and gentle, until Riggs slipped a hand between us, I put a hand against our headboard to hold myself steady, and it was not.
We didn’t come simultaneously, but I wasn’t fully down from mine before Riggs found his.
It was perfect, as ever.
And it was perfect for this day especially.
I was at the vanity in our massive bathroom, getting ready, and it had occurred to me before.
But that day, of all days, it hit me.
Hard.
Riggs had shared, like the rest of the house, he’d updated that bathroom, but he hadn’t deviated much from the layout. He had no need for a rather dramatic vanity area where a woman could sit, do her hair and makeup, and have everything, even her jewelry, at hand (yes, it had this much storage, and the jewelry drawers had locks, so Mom’s jewelry was safe).
Considering he never thought he’d find a woman to call his own, he’d shared he’d done it the way he had for resale value.
But I was thrilled he had, seeing as I could use it.
Though, it wasn’t lost on me that Sarah had sat there, in a bathroom Lincoln had designed, able to pamper herself in the way both her husbands wanted her to have.
Lavishly.
Riggs walked in looking delectable in exceptionally cut, midnight-blue dress trousers and a beautifully tailored shirt that was one shade lighter, his hair drying, but still wet and curling around his ears and neck.
His eyes seemed to sparkle white gold in that shirt.
Seriously.
“Ready to be dazzled?” he asked.
I already was.
“Always.”
“Strut your stuff, kid,” he called.
And in came Ledger, followed by Gia and our cat, Sheba (Ledger named her, and picked her, but Gia claimed her, so Ledger had taught our dog to cart our cat around with all four of her paws dangling from the sides of Gia’s thick neck, which is how Gia carted her into where we made camp when we went camping two weekends ago—my first time, also, my last (outside-bathroom-going was not my thing, in future that could be Riggs Boys’ Time)).
Ledger then struck a variety of poses in his mini-me suit that was midnight blue, like his dad’s, with a one-shade-lighter dress shirt, but he was wearing the jacket.
I slapped my hand on my chest over my robe and cried, “Be still my heart!”
“Such a goof,” Ledger replied, but he was grinning ear to ear.
I stopped messing around and gave the suit a critical eye. “Fits perfectly.”
“I look hot,” Ledger pronounced. “But this monkey suit is uncomfortable.”
“You can take off the jacket after the ceremony,” Riggs told him.
“Cool,” Ledger replied.
“Now, vamoose. Nadia has to finish getting ready. She’s running late.” Riggs turned to me. “The guests are arriving.”
“Shoot!” I exclaimed and whirled back to the vanity.
Both Riggs boys left, but one of them came to me to give me a kiss on the side of my neck before he did (just in case there were questions, it was the taller one).
I finished with my makeup and hair, then I went into the walk-in (an extraordinary room that Riggs did up big also “for resale,” but Lincoln had given Sarah, even before it was the “it” thing in houses) and went to my dress.
It was a lot. Too much for an outdoors gig in the mountains.
But I was me. A city girl. And I’d learned in the past year it was amazing living in the woods by a lake, but I had to be me.
I put on my dress, my heels, then went back to my vanity to add my jewelry.
And that day, I brought Mom with me.
After that, I went down to greet the guests.
Riggs and I were sitting beside each other on our white chairs, Ledger on my other side (Harry on his other side), when Riggs leaned into my ear and murmured, “Good I fucked you and shot a heavy load before I saw you in that dress, or we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
I turned to him, slapped his arm, and hissed under my breath, “Stop it, Riggs.”
He grinned, wide, white and unrepentantly at me.
He then slung an arm, now encased in his suit jacket, around my shoulders.
I’d gone for a family matching look, so my dress was a sheer chiffon (with a matching underlay) in midnight blue, with big, yellow and red flowers and green leaves emblazoned on it. It had a long, tiered skirt that dusted the ground. It had sleeves that were straight, but from a seam around the elbows, blossomed out fuller and were gathered at the wrists. It had tiny, fabric-covered buttons from where the vee neckline plunged to my midriff down to the first tier of the skirt. But the collar had a long, wide scarf attached that I wound round and around, and tied in a big jaunty bow at the side of my neck.