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The ambience is so romantic and yet …
Ty and Rena must have done this. At least, I’m not alone.
Long before I’ve calmed my racing pulse, everyone begins to filter into the courtyard. Including Wells, who looks dapper as always, in his all-black three-piece suit.
His eyes land on me, and he pauses. But when his breath visibly catches, my pulse ratchets all the way up into my dry throat. He stalks toward me, his emeralds full of want. Hungry. Ravenous actually.
Dueling urges war within me.
Flee or leap.
He threads his fingers into my hair, forehead pressed to mine, not caring that others are standing around us. Watching. Waiting. “You’re a goddamn vision, Ivanna Kingston. Radiant.” His voice is so thick with emotion that my knees nearly buckle. “There’s never been a more stunning bride.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
Leap.
I melt against his touch, and my breathing staggers. “I think we’re supposed to sayI door something.”
“Right.” He lifts his head, separating us only inches, and keeps a possessive hand on my waist while he waves the other at Maddox Noire. “Get on with it.”
Everyone in the courtyard bursts into laughter, and I can’t help but giggle with them. This whole thing is so ridiculous, and yet Wells’s reaction couldn’t have been more perfect if I had scripted it.
By the amused sounds of our guests, it’s evident Maddox is witty with his ceremony speech, but to me, it drones more like an airport announcement—foggy and muffled. Wells keeps his intense eyes on me the entire time. Piercing me, as though he can see the deepest inner workings of my soul and wants to memorize them. My mind clouds, floating into the surrealness.
A shooting star.
When it’s time for the rings, Rena hands me a diamond-studded platinum band for Wells.
Not sure where that came from.
Wells removes my engagement ring, clasping a blue-and-white diamond-studded band onto it, and slides the set onto my shaking finger before I take the matching band and glide it onto his.
Grains of sand.
“Time to make out with your bride,” Maddox declares with a wink.
And Wells doesn’t waste a second. One hand snakes around my waist while the other weaves back into my hair. His lips land on mine with a determination that has me whimpering, my whole body liquefying in his embrace.
So, I return it with every bit of pent-up lust I’ve held since I methim. My tongue waltzes with his as my hands coast over his chest to the nape of his neck, drawing him closer. His mouth is warm and slick and coaxing. Consuming.
He tastes like cotton-candy transgressions.Sugarcoated sin.
And the world disappears. The courtyard. The guests. The inheritance and business deal.
Dandelion dreams.
It’s only Wells and me. Sharing a kiss that is deeper and more passionate than anything I’ve ever known—a tethering, a renewal, a twining that has me nearly crumbling to the brick floor, desecrated rubble of my former self. An idyllic tempo thumps in my muscles and veins and bones. His hand fists in my hair, yanking on the flowing salon curls with a sting. I moan into his mouth, and he meets it with his own avid groan.
Something about his sound, erotic and demanding, along with the heat flooding my core, startles me back to reality. People are here, witnessing us come undone. I untangle my tongue from his, release my grip on his neck, and step back.
My fingers brush over my swollen lips.
That was real.
He studies me. A question hovering in the space between us.
What was that, Little Storm?
