Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(53)

I may have been a little biased but it was the most beautiful wedding I had ever seen. Gwen had always been insistent she would get married at the Plaza in New York wearing custom Vera Wang. Well, it wasn’t the Plaza; it was Cade’s backyard. Granted, his backyard was the ocean. She did wear Vera Wang though. I threw myself into planning it and it had been perfect.

Wooden chairs sat in the sand and at the end of each row was an antique steel lantern with a candle inside. Huge bouquets of flowers dotted the aisle in soft ivory and whites. At the end of the aisle was a rustic arch made of driftwood that had white roses threaded through it and white fabric that billowed in the wind.

Cade had stood at the end of it wearing all back, including his cut. A small white flower poked out beside the President patch. He was cradling a tiny baby Belle in his arms. He was flanked by Brock, Bull, and a grinning Lucky.

I had walked up the aisle and my eyes had been locked on Brock. I don’t know if it was the salt air or wedding fever, but every reason I had to stay away from him disappeared and I wanted to jump on him then and there. Unfortunately, that would have been slightly inappropriate so I restrained myself. He didn’t help matters with his hungry gaze falling over my strapless lavender figure-hugging gown.

I had dragged my gaze away from him when Gwen started walking down the aisle. I didn’t look at her though, like everyone else was. I already knew she looked beautiful. Her gown was form fitting to her waist; delicate lace covered the ivory dress. It draped down her body, flowing like a waterfall to her feet. The back dipped low, exposing her back and a train trailed behind her.

I was looking at Cade who froze the moment he laid eyes on her. The look he gave her was impossible to describe. It was like she was the only thing holding him to this earth; that she was his oxygen, his lifeblood. She grinned at him as she wandered down the aisle, unbridled happiness on her face. He remained staring at her as if his life depended on her reaching him; he looked like he wanted to run to her but he was frozen in place. When she made it to him he gently handed Belle to a surprised Dave and yanked Gwen into his arms, kissing her soundly. Dave had laughed, shaking his head, sitting carefully beside a crying Lacey with Belle in his arms. The crowd whooped and even Bull cracked a smile. Brock and I had been silently staring at each other. This continued throughout the entire ceremony and into the photos that Gwen insisted we do. No one dared argue with her. She may have been five foot nothing wearing an intricate white dress but she was a force to be reckoned with.

After she was satisfied with the amount of photos we moved to an area where long tables had been set up in the sand under billowing tents. Fairy lights lit up the canopies and countless lanterns were dotted in the sand. When it was time for my speech I took a deep breath, ignoring Brock’s gaze on me.

“I heard once that true love is recognizing the soul’s counterpart in another,” I started, omitting I heard that in the movie Wedding Crashers. “Anyone who knows me realizes I’m not huge about soulmates or true love or anything along those lines.” I smiled at Gwen. “I didn’t believe in ‘other halves’ until I met Gwen. She is my other half. She knows me better than I know myself—she probably has more memory of some of the things tequila has made me forget.” There were a few chuckles at this. “Saying Gwen is my best friend doesn’t seem adequate. She’s my sister, my wingman—she’s the best person I’ve ever met. The strongest person I’ve ever known.” My voice broke slightly. “She’s my hero.” I swallowed. “So naturally all I want in this world is for my best friend to be happy, loved. When I saw her and Cade together I knew it. Maybe even before she did—definitely before she admitted it. Gwen’s soul had found its counterpart,” I moved my gaze to Cade. “I want to thank you for making my friend happy. For cherishing her. For giving her a life she deserved and a love she is worthy of,” I finished to applause and kisses from a tearful Gwen.

I only half responded, the weight of Brock’s gaze burning into me. When we had farewelled the couple and their baby Brock had seized me, dragging me into the darkness.

No words were spoken as he plastered his mouth to mine, kissing me with a ferocity I barely survived. I was ready to lie on the sand and beg him to f*ck me, despite what a logistical nightmare sex on the beach was when he released my mouth.

“My place now,” he growled.

I nodded and was about to suggest transportation options when he threw me over his shoulder. I squealed and he smacked my ass, hard.

“What are you—” I started to ask, but I got another firm smack in response.

“No talking. We always f*ck shit up when there’s talking. I need to get inside you and neither of us are going to say a word to f*ck it up,” he growled, striding through the sand.

I pursed my lips, listening to him for once. My thighs had instantly quivered at his tone. I hadn’t realized how close his and Cade’s houses were until we walked up the passageway from the beach to his house.

He opened the French doors to his bedroom, which opened out with a view of the ocean and threw me on the bed. “How fond are you of this dress?” he asked gruffly, standing over me.

“Um—” was all I managed before his hands went to my bodice, ripping the thin fabric off me.

“Omigod!” I whisper yelled, “That was Elie Saab!” I exclaimed, my sadness for such brutal treatment of couture momentarily jerking me out of my sex haze. Thoughts of the sad departed dress went away when Brock’s mouth went to my breast. He wasn’t gentle or sweet; he was rough and urgent, desperate. I moaned at his touch, his body on mine and his fingers which touched my sweet spot.