Crashed(book three)(204)

I throw my head back and laugh before completing the line for him. “Might as well give them something good to stare at.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Fuck, I love you, soon-to-be-Mrs. Donavan,” he drawls out, chills dancing on my spine and a smile spreading on my lips, as he leans forward and kisses me.

The cheers rise to a riotous level down below, but all I hear is Colton’s soft groan. All I feel is every place our bodies are touching. All I know is that the warmth spreading inside of me, taking hold, is finding permanence.

Everything else fades away.

The crowd below.

The world beyond.

Because I have, everything I need, is right here in my arms.

The one thing neither of us ever wanted turned out to be the one thing we don’t ever want to live without.

Each other.





1 year later

You’re late. Who do you think you are, the bride or something?

It’s all the text says and I laugh as I try to type a text back but can’t because my hands are shaking. I can’t steady them and yet I need to. If my mom walks in she’s going to think I’m nervous. She’s going to think I have doubts and that my feet are getting cold.

And that’s the farthest thing from the truth.

Because I am so ready to dive in headfirst. So excited to see him, to kiss him, to become officially his, I’m bouncing up and down with excitement. My stomach churns because I can’t wait to see his face—the best part of a wedding I think—when he’ll see me for the first time.

I look down at my phone and reply. I can be late if I want to. It’s my wedding. Rule number one. The bride—the wife—is always right. Non-negotiable.

I look out the window of our bedroom to the deck below and take in the tropical paradise the terrace has been transformed into. Our close family and friends are milling around, the boys are all dressed in matching tuxedos, ushering them to their seats.

I enjoy this quiet moment away from the frenzy that ruled my morning and the chaos I know will ensue shortly. My last few moments as Rylee Thomas. Dressed in white—every ounce of me ruched and inlayed and princessed to perfection—with one simple exception that I refused to budge on.

I look in the mirror at the black and white checkered sash that wraps around my waist and falls down the back of my dress. My little ode to Colton and our private joke.

My phone dings. Already giving rules and we’re not even married yet? A certain wife just might need to be f*cked into submission later. My rule number one: You can have any rule you want, baby, but in the bedroom I’m the one making the rules.

I laugh, my body already strung so tight with need that I know his simple touch will set me off. I smirk, thinking of the checkered flag theme that’s carried over to my undergarments and the groan I’ll hear when Colton discovers it later. And I’m so desperate for that part, considering I’ve not let him touch me for the past month, regardless of how much he begged and pleaded. But when I decided to screw my own rules—give in to my own desire of wanting him to make love to him, he rejected me. “Welcome to the big leagues” his preferred comment of choice.

Ace, you already dominate my mind, heart, and soul … in the bedroom’s just an added bonus. Besides, since when do you follow rules?

I hit send as I breathe in deeply and smile at my reflection. Hair swept up with loose curls falling haphazardly, eyes bright and without doubt, so ready to walk down the aisle to the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. My gaze catches the glimmer of the wedding traditions I’m wearing. And I pick my phone back up.