A minute after that, we were in my car.
Which brings me to now. Married. With a bouquet in my hand and wedding photos and a marriage certificate resting on my thighs.
And I was thinking, the minute Ronnie had his scholarship yanked and copped a plea; I should not have been the girlfriend who stuck by her man.
I should have dumped him and moved on.
But I didn’t.
And now I was married to a man I didn’t know who had a gun, a history where he was in the position for Shift to owe him big and was the kind of man who casually bestowed what had to be very expensive diamonds on “his woman”.
But even though all this was irrefutably true, there was also no denying Ty Walker and I just had one kick-fucking-ass wedding.
The Charger growled up the front of our hotel, we did the valet gig then I followed Walker into the hotel. I clocked the bag of bones guy the minute we entered. He was hanging around, waiting, watching and he clocked us about two seconds after I clocked him.
That tightness took hold of my gut and instantly, without me telling it to do so, my hand transferred the folder, envelope and my clutch to press them between my arm and my body, freeing my hand so I could take hold of his. I shoved my fingers between his, lacing them together and I edged closer to him.
His chin tipped down even as he carried on walking and his fabulous, arched eyebrows went up half a centimeter.
“Bag of bones,” I whispered, pressing into the side of his body even as we moved.
“Come again?”
“Bag of bones dude. Your shadow.”
His fingers tightened in mine and he stopped us in front of the elevator, leaning forward and hitting the button but not looking around.
He came back and I got even closer.
He stared at the elevator doors but muttered, “You tagged him.”
“You didn’t?” I muttered back.
“Yeah. Just surprised you did.”
“He’s hard to miss.”
“Part-idiot,” he mumbled.
“Hmm,” I mumbled back.
You’ll be my wife, you’ll act like my wife and you’ll do it until this is done.
That’s what he’d said.
That was the deal.
That was what I needed to do to get clean and free.
And that was why I curled into him, letting his hand go but moving mine to his chest and sliding it up, up, up until it curved around the side of his neck.
That neck bent and his eyes hit mine.
I went up on tiptoes but needed more inches so he was going to have to help.
“We just got married,” I whispered.
He stared into my eyes but said not a word.
“I’m carrying a wedding bouquet.”
More staring and more silence.
“Ty, he’s watching.”
He continued to stare into my eyes, silent but his hand hit my waist, gliding around in a touch so light, if it didn’t trail a burn I could have convinced myself it wasn’t there. Then he pressed me into him and bent his neck giving me the inches I needed.
Then his mouth was on mine.
And when it was, I flashed back to our wedding kiss. Something, after it was done, I promised myself I would bury. Something, with this flashback, I knew I never would.
Our wedding kiss wasn’t chaste. It wasn’t removed. It wasn’t void of emotion.
It was an arms crushing me to his body, heads slanting, mouths opened, tongues invading, toes curling, knees weakening, bones dissolving, deep, wet, hungry, carnal kiss. It seemed to last forever but that forever was not near long enough.
Just then, that memory fresh, sharp and resurfacing in a surge even though I tried to bury it, his warm, sleek skin under my hand, his lips hard on mine, my fingers tightened on his neck, my front pressed tight to his and my mouth opened of its own volition.
His tongue snaked out and touched the tip of mine.
Warmth washed through me in a flood.
The elevator dinged.
His head came up, his arm disappeared but his hand closed around mine and he dragged me into the elevator.
He tagged the button. Then his arm came back, joined by his other one, my body collided with his, his head came down, mine was already tipped back, my free hand sliding around his shoulders, my hand holding the bouquet moving around his arm, the stuff under my arm fell unheeded to the floor of the elevator and his mouth hit mine. My lips opened, giving him instant access.
He took it.
My bones dissolved and I held on tight.
The elevator doors closed.
*
I put the folder, envelope and clutch that Walker had collected from the floor of the elevator and handed to me after our kiss on the table by the window in our hotel room. Then I carefully set the bouquet on its side.