CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Two o’clock finally rolls around. It’s a balmy, breezy day. Blindingly sunny. Cheerful. Hopeful.
Wearing a dark gray tuxedo, I stand in front of a tall, rectangular trellis on Keeley and Maxon’s lawn, framing a stretch of Hawaiian beach mere feet beyond. It’s wrapped in flowing white drapes and trimmed with what seems like hundreds of white tropical flowers. In fact, everything around me is white—the bows around the chairs, the ribbons, the runner down the middle of the aisle. It’s all pristine and beautiful. Classic.
Keeley, Britta, and Harlow have done a fantastic job tossing these nuptials together in under two weeks. It’s a far cry from my wedding to Becca. This is a true celebration of the union between me and the first woman to truly hold my heart.
I’m past caring if that sounds illogical. It’s undeniable. Sebastian advised me to just go with it. I am. He’s my best man. We’ve been friends for nearly a decade and apparently he gives damn good advice. I wouldn’t be here today without him.
As if he knows what I’m thinking, Bas claps me on the back. “You look happy.”
I nod. “Maybe for the first time ever. I never thought I’d say this, but thank you for taking me to the burlesque club to show me a nearly naked Nia.”
“You’re welcome.” Bas winks. “I had a suspicion you’d like the view.”
“I did. But after that, I couldn’t not see her as a woman. I needed that.” Just like I needed Nia, her open arms, and her big heart.
The ending strains of a song floats through the salt-heavy air, just above the distant sounds of the crashing surf. A woman on a pre-recorded track is waxing vocally through the speakers about her special man and wanting a couple of forevers with him. I hope Nia feels that way about me. I hope we spend the next fifty years together, raising our children and building a good life. I refuse to think something terrible could happen to take her or the baby from me. Not today, not when I’m just beginning to really live.
Maxon, Griff, and Noah finish escorting the last of our guests to their chairs, then take their own seats. My side of the aisle is more crowded than Nia’s. Even so, I couldn’t miss her cousin Annabelle—a lovely African-American woman flanked by three hovering lawyers. Hard to believe she’s committed to them all. It’s an unconventional relationship, but it works for them. Eric and Kellan seem like decent guys, but I really connected with Tate. If they lived closer, I’ll bet he and I would be great friends.
On one side of the altar, Keeley’s bright red hair glints in the sun as her bohemian blue dress flows around her ankles. She smiles at me, microphone in hand. Britta and Harlow both stand at the back in the open doorway of the picturesque bed-and-breakfast, waiting for their musical cue.
Finally the song ends. Harlow lifts her arm and holds up her thumb. Nia is ready. This is it, the moment I’ve been wanting all day. Hell, for weeks.
She’s really going to marry me.
The opening notes to another song begins. A piano taps out slow, almost thoughtful groups of notes. Then Keeley chimes in with a slow ballad about having her lover’s heart forever. More instruments join in. A drum. A violin. The musicians must be behind the drape. It’s still a simple arrangement. It’s also sweeping and romantic.
As Nia comes toward me on Lorenzo’s arm, the song echoes the sentiment in my heart. I am truly in love, truly head-over-heels. I need her. I may be tying myself to her today, but her devotion, quite simply, has set me free.
She draws closer—and steals my breath dressed in a simple sheath dress. Sheer straps cling to her shoulders and mirror the lace that covers her from the tops of her breasts to the bottoms of her ankles. A band of white flowers flows along the top of her head. A long stretch of tulle falls from it, all the way to the floor.
And she’s smiling at me. The expression is open, genuine, and full of joy. She’s ecstatic to be marrying me. My heart feels so light, as if it’s so filled with helium it might float out of my chest.
As Keeley finishes singing, Nia reaches my side, white bouquet in hand. Lorenzo hands her off to me with a smile as bright as any proud father’s and gives me a clap on the back. “Take care of her.”
“I will,” I vow.
To my left, I hear Guilia quietly sniffling. On my right, my foster mother, Diana, does the same. My siblings and their spouses are all smiling. And my wife-to-be looks at me like she can’t wait to say “I do.”
Lono starts the ceremony, his loud Hawaiian shirt billowing in the breeze. Nia’s hands shake when he tells me to take them in mine. We speak our vows, looking into one another’s eyes. Her voice trembles. My heart thuds.
The last few years flash through my memories. The day I interviewed her, she entered my tiny office wearing a confident tilt of her head and a purple suit, demonstrating an organized style that blew me away. I remember the first time Becca was too overwhelmed by a corporate event I needed her to organize so I could woo a client. Nia stepped in at the last minute to play hostess, decked in a red dress that stole the show and had my potential customer panting. I definitely can’t forget the night she came to my place to make me gumbo and I first saw her not just as a female but as a beautiful woman I desire.
Finally, Lono says to kiss my bride. No one needs to tell me twice.
With a smile, I bend and cup Nia’s face. “You’re mine now, wife.”
“Kiss me, husband.”
Her words are faint but unmistakable above the Hawaiian breeze. And I take them to heart, sealing our vows with the first meeting of our mouths, signaling the beginning of our lives together.
God, we haven’t made love since Nia discovered she was pregnant. She was withdrawn after the news. Then there wasn’t time. All the wedding preparations seemed endless. My two weeks of vacation from the office turned into three. I missed a December second meeting with Lund, I think. I don’t know right now. I don’t care, either. He can wait until December twenty-ninth. I’ll call him if I have questions.
The only things that matters to me—the only things that will truly matter for the rest of my life—are this woman I’m kissing passionately and the child she’s carrying.
“Come up for air,” Bas advises softly in my ear with a chuckle.
I ignore him. Instead, I press my lips to Nia’s again and again. Then… Fuck it, I’m going in for tongue. I’ve missed her like hell. I love her like mad. I want her to know. Screw what everyone else thinks.
“Oh, my gosh… Get a room!” Harlow calls from the audience.
Everyone laughs, even Nia. Reluctantly, I end the kiss and step back.
“Now that I’m not worried we’ll be witnessing the consummation of this marriage at the altar, I pronounce you man and wife,” Lono jokes. “Mr. and Mrs. Evan Cook, everyone!”
Our guests all chuckle. Nia looks as if she can’t decide whether to be excited or embarrassed. I have no such problem making up my mind. I’m proud as hell as I raise our joined hands and run back down the aisle while everyone tosses white petals our way.
We have a few precious moments alone inside the cool, shaded tent set up on the far side of the lawn. I don’t waste a single second. I simply grab Nia in my arms and pull her against me, covering her mouth with mine until I hear people approaching.
Reluctantly, I end with one last peck, then back away. “I’ve missed you.”
Her face softens. “I’ve missed you, too. Your visit this morning meant everything to me. You love me.”
“I do.”
The most radiant smile lights her up. I dare any man to show me a more beautiful bride. He’d fail, I’m sure of it.
“I love you, too. And we’re going to have a great wedding night.”
“Damn right we are.”
She’s laughing as our collective friends and family all approach. Congratulations begin. Lorenzo and Guilia reach us first, the big man full of hugs and boisterous laughter. Guilia dabs at tears and embraces Nia as lovingly as she would her very own daughter.
Diana grabs me in an uncharacteristic bear hug. “I’m so happy for you.”
She surprised me by flying in late last night. I haven’t seen her since Becca’s funeral and I didn’t expect her to come from her artistic pilgrimage through Asia to see me get married a second time. “It means a lot to me that you came.”
“I had to see this woman for myself. But Nia is perfect for you. We talked for a few minutes last night.” Diana smiles genuinely. “She’s got enough ambition and spark to both keep up with and challenge you.”
Becca didn’t, according to my foster mother. She’s right, but now isn’t the time to talk about the past. “I think Nia is perfect, too.”
Others join in. Music begins. Drinks flow. Food and cake follow. Dancing commences. I even learned how for Nia. Well, kind of. I’m sure I look like a dolt, but I don’t care. It’s a celebration in every sense of the word.
As evening wanes, Nia talks animatedly with Keeley, Britta, Harlow, and Annabelle a few feet away, so Eric, Kellan, and Tate sidle up to me, looking toward their woman, as if they never let her too far out of their sight.
“Thanks for coming all the way from New Orleans, especially on short notice. I know having family here makes Nia happy.”
“Our pleasure,” Eric says. “We’re glad we could see Nia tie the knot.”
Kellan nods. “In truth, the Hawaiian getaway made our Belle happy, too.”
“Exactly,” Tate agrees. “We always look for ways to tell her that we love her. But the best way is with our penises.”
I nearly spit out my drink. Eric snickers.
Kellan groans. “Dude…”
“What? We always show Belle we love her with our penises. And this vacation we’re hoping to say it with our sperm, as well. We’re trying to conceive a baby.”
I barely manage to swallow my scotch without coughing it down. “Well…good luck with that.”
“Seriously, Tate…” Kellan looks ready to clobber his buddy. “They didn’t need to know that.”
“I don’t see the problem.” Tate gestures my way. “I’m pretty sure Evan is going to show Nia how much he loves her with his penis tonight. Maybe even his sperm.”
The people around Tate may see him as embarrassing or socially awkward, but he’s candid, factual, and logical.
“Absolutely,” I assure him with a laugh.
Within minutes, Tate and I find ourselves in a heated debate of Edison versus Tesla, who was better and why. While Eric and Kellan seem to glaze over, I’m defending the fact that AC current was in every way superior to DC and that Edison was kind of a vindictive asshole to Tesla. Then Nia strolls up and threads her arm through mine.
At the same time, I see Annabelle sandwich herself between Eric and Kellan, then reach a hand out to cup Tate’s shoulder and soothe him. “Hi, baby.”
“Just a minute, Belle. I’m telling junior over here all the reasons he’s wrong.”
Before I can say a word, Annabelle leans in. “So, you don’t want to go to our room and…”
She whispers the rest of her suggestion in his ear.
Tate’s eyes widen. When she eases away, Tate actually flushes. A whole different kind of electricity pings off him.
“Yes, I do. And yes, we should. Night, all.” He wraps his arm around Annabelle and makes to haul her away.
“Let’s do the same,” I tell my wife.
Grinning, Annabelle calls over her shoulder to Nia, “I think you and I went shopping at the same husband store.”
We all laugh.
Eric and Kellan follow them out. The crowd is winding down. Most of my family has already left, as the wives don’t seem to have as much energy now that they’re nearing the end of their pregnancies.
I bring Nia against me. “Let’s take this celebration private. What do you say?”
She sends me a sly smile. “Are you going to show me how much you love me with your penis?”
After twelve long, aching nights without her? Now that she’s finally my wife?
I scoop Nia up into my arms, lift her against my chest, and plant a hard kiss on her lips. “Oh, yeah. All night.”
“Where are we going?” Nia asks a few minutes later as I speed down a two-lane road in one of Noah’s high-performance sports cars.
I’ve got one suitcase, two bottles of sparkling cider, and a whole slew of dirty thoughts on board.
“You’ll see.”
She sends me a curious glance. “What are you up to?”
“At least eight inches.”
That makes her giggle. “I meant, what do you have up your sleeve?”
“You should know by now that what I have is down my pants.” I wink. “Want to see?”
She rolls her eyes at my bad joke. “If I peek while you’re driving, we’ll probably have to pull over on the side of the road. Then we’ll never make it to wherever we’re going.”
I glance at Nia. She was a beautiful bride, but now she’s my incredibly alluring wife. I want her all to myself.
“Sadly, you’re right. I’m afraid if you even breathe on me too much right now, I’ll be all over you.”
“Gosh, that sounds terrible,” she teases.
“Positively awful, right?”
“The worst.” She drops her hand on my thigh.
“Nia…”
“It’s so”—she drags her palm up my leg until her fingers trail over my balls, then she cups my shaft—“hard to figure out how I’m going to endure your attention. I’ll have to think long…” She moans as she strokes my length through my tuxedo pants, which are suddenly way too constricting.
“About what?” I choke out.
“How to put up with you tonight. I have ideas…”
“I do, too.”
“Tell me.”
Clamping my fingers around her wrist, I drag her hand away from my cock. I need to take control of this situation or we won’t make it to our romantic destination before I fall on her and fuck her like a madman. “Lift your dress, take off your panties, and show me your pussy.”
Nia gapes at me. The air seems to dissipate from the car. She freezes, except for her harsh breathing, and stares at me.
“Now,” I insist softly. “I want to see you, wife.”
She closes her eyes. “Your command shouldn’t turn me on that much.”
But it does, and I’m a lucky son of a bitch. I feel even luckier when she pulls up her dress to the tops of her thighs and reaches under the lace sheath. With a shift and a wriggle, she comes up clutching a tiny taupe-colored thong.
I hold out my hand. “Give it to me.”
“W-what are you going to do?”
“Keep it.”
She lets out a shuddering breath and sets the scrap of hot silk in my hand.
I shove it in my coat pocket and cast her an impatient stare. “Thank you. But I can’t see your pussy yet.”
“What if someone pulls up beside us?”
“Who? There’s no one on this road, and if another driver comes close, it’s my problem. I’ll handle it. Show me your pussy, Nia. Now.”
“You’re awfully demanding.”
“It’s your fault. I was never this way before you.”
That makes her smile. The expression is hesitant and nervous. And aroused. It’s so beautifully female.
Then she raises her dress around her hips. I wish like hell I had more light in the car, but I know her bare ass rests against the seat. I see her pressing her slender thighs together. I laugh. As if that’s going to soothe her ache… I already know it won’t because even in the shadowy interior, I see her sex shimmering with wetness.
“Touch yourself for me.”
If I do it, we definitely won’t make it out of this car. And fucking my wife here, even if I could figure out how logistically, would be decidedly unromantic, especially for our first time as man and wife. She deserves better.
“You mean like this?” Nia spreads her thighs just enough to tease me and begins to rub her clit.
The sight of her fingers on her pussy has me gripping the wheel tighter. “Exactly like that.”
“Hmm. How much longer until we reach wherever?” She licks her lips. “Enough time for me to make myself come?”
As much as I’d like the show, no.
I grab her wrist again. “Your first orgasm as my wife is mine, Nia. You can get yourself wet and hot and ready, but you’re going to give me that first scream while I’m on top of you, inside you, kissing you, and making sure you know you belong to me.”
Vaguely, I’m aware that I sound decidedly unevolved. Being with Nia isn’t strictly about sex…but I enjoy every moment I spend in bed with her. I’m not against her making autonomous decisions about her pleasure, generally speaking. But not tonight. From now until the sun comes up, she—and all her orgasms—are mine.
Nia shivers. “All right.”
Slowly, I release her wrist. Her fingers delve between her folds again. It only takes a second before her back is arching, her hips lifting.
“What are you thinking about?” I demand.
“You.”
“What am I doing?”
“Making love to me. Slowly. Carefully. Touching me everywhere. Wringing pleasure from me. Telling me you love me.”
I can picture that, too. “That’s what you want tonight?”
Her head falls back against the seat and she closes her eyes. “Please.”
“Why? Because that’s ‘wedding night’ sex?”
She shakes her head. “Because no one has ever done that.”
Really? She’s had playful sex, intense sex, spontaneous sex, even slightly kinky sex. But she’s never had thoughtful, lingering, meaningful sex, the kind where someone revered her body, stoked her heart, and consumed her soul at once?
Come to think of it, neither have I.
“Then we’ll share this first together.”
The smile Nia gives me leaves me basking in anticipation and reeling with need.
Two torturous minutes later, I pull into the driveway and stop the car. Thank god we made it.
She blinks in the darkness and lifts her hand from between her legs slowly, looking disoriented by her lingering haze of self-pleasure. “We’ve been here.”
I nod, waiting for her to catch on. “We have.”
As she takes it all in, I exit the car and run to open her door.
“Have you guessed yet?” I almost hold my breath, hoping she’s happy with my surprise.
“Is this the house where you proposed to me?” she asks as she steps out.
“It is.”
“The house I picked out from the stack of listings? The one with the fireplace?”
A smile splits my face. “It is. And it’s ours.”
She gasps, a smile spreading across her face. “Seriously?”
“I accepted their counter offer the day after you agreed to marry me. I signed the paperwork at eleven this morning. I thought it would be fitting to spend our first night as a married couple here, so we can start building memories.”
Her smile almost blinds me. “That’s perfect. You got me a fireplace! I always wanted one as a kid.”
And she never had one. I’m so fucking glad I can be the man to give it to her. “Now, it’s all yours.”
Nia squeals. There’s no other way to put it. She throws her arms around my neck, jumps up and down excitedly, and peppers my face with kisses. “You did this for me?”
“We needed a place to live.”
“But you picked the one I chose, even though it wasn’t the best investment of all the properties you saw.”
“I did.”
“You chose the non-logical place simply to make me happy. I know how major that is for you, Evan. Thank you. I love it!” She brushes a kiss across my lips. “I love you.”
Her response is everything I’d hoped. “You’re welcome. You can refurnish anything you want, however you want. We’ll be living here permanently in just over three weeks, then you can redecorate and—”
“I’ll have plenty of time to set up the perfect nursery.”
My smile turns down. Her words jolt me with anxiousness. Fear. Will she purchase a bunch of items meant to welcome and care for a new baby that I’ll again have to cancel and return because fate stole my wife and child from me?
I can’t think that. I can’t be that unfortunate twice. Nia will be fine. She’ll have a baby—our baby—and we’ll raise him or her together. I refuse to accept any other possible future.
She squeals again, grabs my hand, and tries to drag me toward the door. “Let’s go inside.”
“One minute.”
I grab all the stuff out of the trunk and lug it up to the front porch. Harlow, bless her, set up everything to turn our master bedroom into the perfect honeymoon suite. I didn’t give her much in the way of instruction, just asked her to make it romantic and conducive to hours of pleasure. She gave me a wink and assured me she’d take care of it.
Beside me, Nia opens the door in excitement. Before she can step over the threshold, I ease the bags I’m carrying down on the porch step and reach for my bride.
“You don’t get to walk inside. Tradition.”
I’m more than delighted to pick her up, fold her against my chest, and carry her over the threshold. She slides an arm around my neck and cuddles closer. Instead of looking around her new house, she sees only me. The love shining from her eyes nearly blinds me.
“I want to kiss you right now.”
Her smile widens. “I want you to do more than kiss me.”
Without wasting a second, I hustle her toward the bedroom. In the doorway, I almost stop short because I don’t recognize the place. Harlow has managed to shroud the huge mahogany tester bed in gauzy white drapes. New white bedcovers and pillows in watery shades of blue add to the romantic feel. Candles provide a soft glow all around. A second glance tells me they’re all battery operated, but the effect is still idyllic. Sultry scents of vanilla, jasmine, and sea salt blend in the air. The overhead fan sways lazily, but the fireplace is cracking and jumping merrily for my wife. Outside the open double doors, I see the low lights surrounding the patio and the pool, then the shift of the ocean beyond, visible under the moonlight.
I’m going to share all of this—and the rest of my life—with Nia.
I set her on her feet. “Wait here.”
She nods slowly, taking the place in. “Wow.”
Grinning stupidly, I jog back to retrieve the rest of our things, then haul them into the bedroom. Shoving the suitcase to one side—I’m hoping we won’t need clothes until we fly back to Seattle on Monday night—I grip the sparkling cider by its neck, find the two plastic glasses, and open the bottle.
The cork pops free, and I manage to contain the overspill into a glass just before I pour us each a few sips. I hand her one and hold it up.
She joins suit. “What are we toasting? Us?”
I nod. “You know I’m not good with words or sentiments. And today, I’ve got so many things running through my head.” Not to mention clogging my throat. “Now that we’re married and starting our lives together, it all seems so big. No, sharp. That’s not exactly it, either. More like soft but important. I can’t put it into words…”
“Poignant? Emotional?”
Those are words that have barely been in my vocabulary before now. I was aware of their meaning in an academic way before Nia. “Yes. That’s what I mean. We’ve had an…interesting road to get here.”
“By interesting, do you mean the fact you failed to notice I’m female for years?”
“Yes,” I admit sheepishly, then frown. “Wait. Are you saying you noticed me as a man before that night at the BBB Revue?”
Nia rolls her eyes. “Evan, of course. I was professional, not blind. I would have never acted on my attraction, especially while you were married to Becca. But…I always wondered what you’d be like if you turned all that considerable focus and attention to detail on me.” Then she smiles. “Besides, I’m a sucker for green eyes.”
That makes me laugh. “Well, I’m a sucker for this one beautiful woman who turned my life upside down.” Then I sober and cup her cheek. “I can’t imagine ever being this happy without you. Here’s hoping we have fifty amazing years together.”
She clinks her glass with mine. “I’m greedy; I want more.”
I could point out that if I live another fifty years, it would extend me beyond the average life expectancy of the American male and that we can’t know whether I have any heretofore unknown medical conditions or an unfortunate incident might cut my life short. But her point is sentimental, not logical.
“I want more, too,” I assure her. “But right now, I want you out of that dress.”
As I turn her away from me, I shuck my tuxedo jacket. Next, I lower her zipper. It’s a quiet, suggestive hiss in the room.
“It’s beautiful here,” she says, trembling. “Thank you. I can’t think of a more perfect place to spend our wedding night.”
The dress folds away from her body, leaving the smooth expanse of her back to gleam by the candlelight. As I ease it down her hips, I spread kisses across her shoulders and up her neck. “I can’t wait to take advantage of this romantic atmosphere—and you.”
“Evan…” she murmurs as I nip at her lobe.
“Yes, wife?”
I circle my hand around her middle and lay my palm over her flat-for-now abdomen. Tonight, I’m not thinking about the baby or what might happen. I’m focused on this moment, on her.
I shift up to cradle her breast, reveling when her head falls back to my chest with a little moan.
“Be with me. Stay with me. Love me.”
Her words fill me with something I can’t describe. Rightness. Not the sort of certainty that comes from being correct when I’ve solved a complex equation or a complicated business dilemma. It’s not straightforward. It’s not tangible. It…just is. This rightness comes from somewhere deeper than my brain. It’s louder than my logic. It’s pure bliss. It’s a certainty stemming straight from my heart that I am where I’m meant to be with the woman who completes me.
Until now, that’s another notion that always confused me. Each person is an individual unto themselves, so how could they need another person to complete them? Maybe it’s finally feeling genuine love that’s helped me to understand. But as sure as I’m standing here now, I know my world will never be the same again if I don’t have Nia by my side.
“My pleasure.”
I’m not even conscious of what we do next. Our clothes seem to melt away as we embrace. We stand closer with every touch. Suddenly, we’re in the middle of our king-size bed, and Nia is under me as I kiss her, looking for new places on her body to both conquer and worship. Those seemingly contradictory urges should strike me as odd, but feeling them simultaneously tonight seems somehow normal.
With my lips, I feel my way over her neck, across her breasts, down her stomach. With my tongue, I adore her hips, her thighs, her pussy. When she cries out and reaches for me, I have to be closer. I have to be with her. I have to be inside her.
As I ease into the snug heat of Nia’s body, I fit my mouth over hers and possess her in every way I know how. She opens her arms, her legs, her heart to me. I sink deep—body and soul. It’s more than a meeting of mere flesh and passion. Slowly, we move together. Until now I’ve never tried sex with this kind of unhurried reverence. I never needed my joining with a woman to be more than two bodies seeking mutual satisfaction.
Tonight, with Nia, everything is different. We’re making love.
As I stroke deep and steady into her, I bend to wrap my lips around her nipple, drag my way up her neck, then whisper in her ear, “I’ll never get enough of you.”
“As long as you love me, too, neither will I.”
Our pleasure rises, bright and inexorable. It’s as if the restraint we’re exercising to make it last makes the blaze between us burn hotter. Our feelings power the desire we share into something more mesmerizing than the mere rubbing together of bodies. I would never have believed how much emotions could heighten ecstasy if I wasn’t experiencing these stunning sensations for myself.
As we reach a gasping, cataclysmic, mutual end, I feel satiated, content, and far more wrapped up in another human being than I thought myself capable of feeling. This is my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward. I may have been married before, but for the first time, I actually know what that means. I’m going to love, honor, and cherish Nia for the rest of my days.
I tuck her damp body against me and wrap my arms around her. She closes her eyes with a sigh of satisfaction, making me smile all over again. If this is marital bliss, sign me up for more.