Still Not Over You(73)

Fuck.

Fuck, this woman might destroy me, baring herself like this. But maybe I'm not afraid because we've already done that once. Exactly what I needed.

Destroyed and rebuilt into something and someone better, the rubble of that hateful, broken thing I was left behind.

“That's it, babe,” I whisper, leaning in where no one else can hear, grinning like a fool. “Because if you make me go all bleary-eyed in front of all these people, you're in so much trouble tonight.”

She grins back. “Looking forward to it,” she teases, only for the priest to clear his throat and pull us back from our absorption in each other, back into formalities.

The rest is a sugary sweet blur.

There’s a do you, Kenna? A do you, Landon? A with this ring, I thee wed. The rings, transferred from my pocket to our hands, slid reverently onto mutually shaking fingers. I do. I do.

I do, I do, I do.

Then an I now pronounce you.

Husband. Wife. Till Death do you part.

And then she’s in my arms, and our families are cheering and crying and laughing and shouting, and I’m kissing my wife for the first time.

Hot fuck. The first little flick of her tongue against mine does terrible things to the animal inside me. I have to restrain myself, remember not to grab her ass in public. I stop at the small of her back and just pull her in, attacking her mouth, the mouth I've claimed forever, pulling her into me.

She's mine, mine, gloriously mine.

Every day for the rest of our lives, I’ll remember.

I'll cherish.

I'll believe.

I'll love like madness.

How she falls into my arms with such absolute trust, absolute love, and kisses me with a joy and passion and promise that says no matter what rocky roads we may face, no matter how we may clash and push apart and pull back together...

She loves me.

And she knows I love her.

And I show her again and again and again, with every fiery pulse of lips to lips and dancing, swirling souls.

I want her to myself. Right the fuck now.

Unfortunately, the biggest problem with a wedding party is the wedding party.

High on dizzy joy and clinging to each other nonstop, we hold court. Bide our time. And I force my throbbing dick to behave for a few more hours.

Mothers suddenly become mothers-in-law, hugs and tears all around. Another smack upside the head from Steve, who introduces me to their Gam-Gam, a ninety year old woman who pinches my cheek like Goliath. She tells me and Kenna we've given her the best late birthday present she could ever ask for – unless we're planning on giving her a grandbaby next year?

Fuck.

Pouting from Milah, who tries her damnedest not to show that she’s red-eyed from crying and forcing down the biggest grin. She’s pretending to be her usual sourpuss screw-the-world self, but the fact that she's here at all tells us there's more under her perfectly tanned skin.

When she hugs us both, it’s fierce and genuine. None of the smarmy act she puts on, and everything of a girl who’s slowly finding her way in the world, one mistake at a time. Incredibly, she doesn't even touch a drink the whole time I glance her direction.

She sniffs at us with mock hauteur. “You guys are so predictable, having a cheap wedding. It was quaint, I suppose. Charming.”

Kenna grins and tucks herself into my side. “Do I need to remind you I will end you?”

“Landon wouldn’t let you,” Milah fires back, though there’s no flirtatiousness behind it. She hesitates, then gives me an uncertain look. “I...fuck, I don’t know how to say this.”

“Say what?”

She looks away, rubbing her arm uncomfortably. “Just...thank you. Thank you both. For realsies.”

I grip her shoulder gently. I get what she’s not saying. What could have happened to her, how frightening it must have been, coming face-to-face with the Reaper without a split second of warning.

“Hey. I was just doing my job,” I tell her.

“Yeah, well, you’re kind of okay at it.” She pulls back with a toss of her hair. I let her.

It’s bravado, clinging to her dignity, and it’s not nearly as grating as it used to be. “Since you had to have such a cheap wedding, I insist you splurge on your honeymoon.”

Kenna laughs, rubbing her cheek on my arm. “We already did. A week in Mexico!”

I love how her voice lights up. Hell, I'm feeling it, too, my mind instantly going to spicy micheladas and long nights on the vacant, warm beaches with Reb. Completely naked.

Milah smiles. “Mexico's perfect! I have like, six houses there. Or is it seven? You simply have to stay at one of my properties. You’ll be pampered better than any hotel.”

Kenna parts her lips to protest. I elbow her gently, and we exchange a glance.

Somehow, we’ve developed our secret language of silences we used to have when we were kids, and could read each other with just a look – and what I’m telling her with my look right now is to let Milah have this one.

Kenna sighs indulgently, eyeing me with a wry smile, then turns that beaming look on Milah.

“We’d be honored,” she says. “Thank you.”

“It’s settled. Awesome. Right now, though...” Milah looks at a cell phone she doesn't bother to pull out of her purse. “I have a plane to catch. My new career's taking off thanks to a certain knight in shining armor, and I'm due on a flight to Paris tonight.” She giggles, tosses us both a flirty wink and a blown kiss, and turns to flounce off. “Ta for now.”