I caress his cock through the kiss, but eventually I can’t wait any longer. Dropping my head back on his muscled shoulder, I position him against me and slide down on his hardness. We both moan, and his hands sweep over my chest, my hips, and my pussy.
He widens my thighs and pushes deep, rocking into me, his body tightening and shaking around me. I reach between our legs and play with his balls as he thrusts deeper, faster. With a groan, he returns his lips to my neck, biting and licking and pushing me closer to oblivion.
I moan in the back of my throat with every grinding flex of his hips. Blissful fulfillment waits on the peak, luring me, demanding my surrender. But it’s his fingers wrapping around my throat, the perfect pressure of his iron fist, that unravels me.
My legs fall open to the thick, relentless slide of his cock, and I scream, shuddering in ecstasy. As he joins me, it’s with my name on his breath, his muscles clenching and releasing and fingers pressing against my skin with unbridled passion.
After, I lift off him, twisting to straddle his lap. Then I kiss him the way I want to, with playfulness and affection, sliding my hands beneath his t-shirt to molest all that hot skin over steely muscle. His lips taste like untamed love and his breaths fill my lungs with the strength of his happiness.
“It’s always going to be like this, isn’t it?” I trail a path of kisses across his bottom lip.
“Yes.” Dauntless and inviolable, his confidence is my sanctity.
“I will always, always love you.” I kiss him again. “Down to the very depths of you. Thank you for showing me how to smile again.”
The restaurant erupts in rowdy cheers as Trace kisses me long and hard on the stage at the center of the dining room. You may kiss the bride reverberates through the chambers of my heart, expanding my chest to accommodate the overwhelming swell of emotion.
We did it.
We’re married.
It’s so surreal I continue to stand in place after he jumps down and holds up his hand. The hard, shiny band of platinum on his finger is made of elegant, unbending strength like the man I chose it for.
He’s wearing a wedding ring.
This obscenely gorgeous man in a tailored black tuxedo with arresting blue eyes is my husband.
I pinch myself to make sure it’s real.
He transformed Bissara into an opulent seating room for the wedding ceremony and stood beside me on the stage encased in the beam of light as we made our vows. There’s no place in the world I would’ve rather married. He fell in love with me when he first saw me at the restaurant. I fell in love with him while I danced on this stage. He proposed to me right here in this dining room.
This is our home.
“Mrs. Savoy.” He grips my hand and pulls me to the edge. “You owe me a dance before I take you upstairs and rip that dress from your hot little body.”
There’s no way I’m letting him destroy this dress. The sleeveless sweetheart neckline and heavily embellished bodice hugs my frame like a dream. Ruffles of white lace tumble from my waist in a romantic A-line. The layering of the skirt gives it a bohemian feel with the illusion of a back chapel train. It flows around my legs without tangling, making it ideal for dancing. He did good. Better than good. I couldn’t have picked a more perfect dress.
I lean toward him, and he clutches my waist, swinging me off the stage. Then we’re moving, caught up in a chaotic whirlwind as two-hundred wedding guests make their way to the ballroom.
He didn’t close the gaming area, so there are unfamiliar smiles everywhere, people crowding around to check out the excitement.
We wind through the maze of clinking, flashing slot machines, stopping every few feet for handshakes, hugs, and tearful congratulations from wedding guests and casino patrons. It takes forever to walk such a short distance, but Trace holds tight to my hand the entire time.
Until he doesn’t.
He jerks away from me, his attention on something in the crowd.
“Trace?” I grip his arm, following his gaze, unable to see whatever it is he’s looking for.
“I need to…” He sprints away, pushing through the throngs of people in his hurry.
My stomach hardens, and a chill skates down my spine. What the hell is happening?
I crane my neck, holding my breath. That’s when I see it.
The back of a black leather jacket.
The military-style cut of familiar brown hair.
Trace is chasing Cole.
My heart falls with an agonizing thud. I scoop it up, along with layers of ruffled lace, and chase them.
Evidently, the sight of a runaway bride makes people scatter, because the crowd parts as I barrel forward, hugging the skirts around my thighs. I spot Trace at the entrance twenty feet away. He shoves his way through the doors and vanishes into the night.
I pick up my pace, pulse racing and lungs burning. I have no idea what I’ll find when I get there, but my eyes are already aching with tears.
Just inside the lobby, I reach the exterior glass door and slam to a stop, spotting them instantly. My hand flies to my mouth, stifling a whimper.
Cole’s motorcycle is parked on the curb of the circle drive. He and Trace stand beside it, locked in an embrace. Trace’s head is lowered, his mouth moving at Cole’s ear as Cole nods and hugs him tighter.
Silent tears stream down my face. I press my palm to the glass, dying to go to them. But I won’t. I never want to come between them again.
Cole’s hair is shorter, his brawn impossibly more defined. He looks harder, older, but healthy. I wouldn’t dare say he’s happy, but the set of his shoulders shows purpose, his posture radiating determination. His eyes… I can’t see…
He lifts his head and stares directly at me. I stop breathing, and my hand slides off the window, falling to my side.
Trace releases him, and they step back. Cole rests his fingers in his jean pockets, scans my wedding gown from chest to toes, and returns to my eyes.
“Be happy,” he mouths and gives me a soft dimpled smile.
My lips curve upward, despite the terrible tremble in my chin. “Be safe.”
He stares at me as I stare him, suspended in a moment as defining as the day we met. Our story began and ended with a smile, every second in between marked with love.
He looks away first and turns to Trace. They exchange more words, their postures relaxed and eyes bright.
Without another glance in my direction, Cole straddles the motorcycle and rumbles out of my life the same way he rumbled into it.
I feel the loss all over again, but it’s swaddled in an unexplainable sense of peace. I watch the fade of his taillight long after the darkness swallows it, and so does Trace.
Eventually, Trace turns to me and shakes his head with a concerned look on his face. He strides in my direction and steps inside.
“Sorry I left you standing there.” He pulls a tissue from his pocket and wipes my cheeks. “You messed up your makeup.”
“I don’t care about the makeup.” I grip his wrist, stalling his hand. “You invited him?”
“Yes. I thought you both might need closure.”