"Hey, hey..." Amos protests. "Your lips and hands don't belong near my woman. Enough already." Playfully shoving Connor away, he embraces me from behind, erasing his brother's touch by kissing the same spot. "Keep it up and you'll find yourselfbanned from the food."
"Oh, no!" Connor's deep, mocking tone matches his expression. "Mercy, you gonna let him treat me like that?"
I tilt my head back on Amos's chest and bat my eyes. "Baby, don't be mean to your brother. He's the only one you have. And as for you..." I narrow my gaze on said younger brother. "I'm thinking you're not as innocent as you make yourself out to be, so don't come looking for help from me."
The black tattoos on his neck flex with laughter as Mitchell throws an arm around his shoulders. "She's got you there, son."
Smiling fondly at her little family, Corina pulls Amos—and me by extension—down to give him a motherly kiss. "My handsome boy—"
"Favorite," he interjects with a smirk. She stops with a silently raised parental eyebrow until he gives a small grimace. "Sorry, Momma. Go on."
"Finally getting your bride. And she's a beautiful one, too, inside and out." Corina lifts his hand from my waist and drags mine to rest in it, folding our fingers together. "Always hold on to each other, no matter what storms life brings your way. Because as long as you have each other, you can make it through anything."
"That's right." Mitchell wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her silvery blonde hair. "Anything."
A look of veiled longing covers Connor's face as he glances between his parents and us. I recognize it well because I wore it far too often for far too many years. On his last pass, our eyes catch. His façade falters, exposing the vulnerability underneath the sad smile he gives me. His gruff insults hide his loneliness just like my quietness did mine. While I hope he finds someone, I also hope he tamps down the Shay intensity and takes it easy on the poor woman. She'll be in for a healthy dose of culture shock, otherwise.
"Well," he announces loudly as he tucks away his vulnerability, "while y'all smother in all this love floating around, I'll be eating all those barbecue mini dicks."
"Ha," Amos snickers. "You like the taste of dick, do you?"
With a flip of his middle finger, Connor ignores him and moves to the crockpot keeping the cocktail sausages warm. "Call me when you cut the cake. So you know, I restrained myself from licking the icing. Just for you, Mercy."
A laugh leaves me at his absurdity. Like our wedding, the cake is simple, too. A chocolate chip red velvet bundt cake I made yesterday with cream cheese icing drizzled over the top. Mhmm...just the way I like it.
Leaning back, I make myself comfortable in my husband's strong arms as I take in the activity around us. Receptions have never been my thing at the few weddings I've attended. And though mine is small, it's still awkward becauseeverybodyknows what happens after people get married.
The wedding night.
Or afternoon, in our case. Regardless, everyone knows what shenanigans the bride and groom are itching to get to as soon as the last guest leaves.Inever could stop myself from imagining any newlyweds doingthe deed, so I'm pretty sure the thought is in everyone's head. And isn't it just lovely knowing that his parents know what their precious child is about to do to me?
Well, maybe notexactlywhat we're going to do.I will literally die from embarrassment if I see even a hint of a smirk or laugh, but so far, so good. Even from Connor.
A flash takes me by surprise, and I turn my head to take in the cheerful photographer. "That was absolutely perfect. Sorry—I just had to take that one before either of you moved. Ready for more?"
Amos gives my waist a warm squeeze. "Of course. Where do you want us?"
"How about we start at the arch and move on from there?"
Here we go. I'm not a fan of having my picture taken, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime event. Before I can stifle it, a quiet laugh escapes me because that statement is even more true when marrying a Shay.
A feeling of belonging overtakes me as Amos kisses my temple and moves us back to the wooden arch. I've been caught and claimed, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
Thefloorcertainlylooksdifferent from this angle, I muse as Amos carries me through the house. Caveman style, with me draped over his shoulder and his hands simultaneously too close and too far from my center as he holds me in place.
His legs seem different, too. Longer and stronger. Watching them in motion sends a bolt of lust through me and tempts me to run my hands over his ass that isright there.When my fingers creep over his belt and lower down, his own slide up my thigh and gently tease me through my panties. A little squeak escapes me as I trap his roaming hand between my clenched thighs. "Amos!"
"Couldn't wait until we got to the bedroom, could you?" he rumbles as he crosses the threshold into our room. Kicking the door shut, he slides me down his body with aching slowness, then toes his shoes off. Purposefully advancing, he forces me backwards. "Now...what did I promise you? Oh, yes. You, me, and a bed. And here we are."
My heart thumps in anticipation with every footstep as he prowls towards me. When the backs of my legs hit the mattress, I shiver, feminine awareness sending icy tingles to my fingertips before settling back down in my stomach. There's just something about the heavy intent in his eyes...the flash of his secret smile he aims at me that has my hormones in overdrive.
Slightly intimidating, too, when I take in our stark differences. His masculinity to my femininity. His hard body to my softer one. He'd never hurt me, I know that now, but knowing he could pin me down without any struggle on his part and do wicked things to me causes a rush of desire to flood my panties.
"Right where I want you. Don't move."
I'm not scared, but Iamcompletely turned on beyond belief. We've made love countless times these past three months, but this moment holds heavy tension because now we're married in all the ways we could possibly be. Breaths turning shallow, I greedily watch as his fingers deftly remove his lust-inducing suspenders and unbutton his waistcoat. Shrugging it off, his shirt buttons are next. In and out, they weave lazily through the buttonholes and reveal the dusty coating of hair on his chest.
"Wait!" I blurt. "Don't take it off." Suddenly,Iwant to be the one to take charge. Amos is a giver, for sure, but now I want to do something to him.
