Gavin
If I were to pick one moment to freeze in time and relive over and over, it would be this one. I pick up Demi and race her up the porch. My lips crash over hers as I open the door. There’s just enough moonlight pouring in, so I don’t bother with the lights. We won’t need them.
“You ready to do this?” I sweep my lips over her cheek and control the urge to bite into her like a peach.
“Now and forever.”
I swing her over the threshold and lock the door in less than two seconds. It was killing me all night to see her in this dress, looking as beautiful as ever, and not being able to manhandle her the way I wanted.
“Come here.” I reach back and carefully unzip her dress, pulling it over her head and laying it across the couch as if it were a body. I go to wrap my arms around my beautiful bride but stop midflight. “Holy hell.” Demi has on a lace bra and panties that puts the entire Victoria’s Secret catalog to shame. There’s not much to either, and, of what there is, it melts right into her skin.
“What do you think?” She throws her hands into the air and rotates her hips from side to side.
“I think you look edible from head to toe, and I’m ready to test the theory.” My chest is already bucking as I struggle to catch my breath. “I also think you’re still a bit overdressed.” My eyes never leave hers as my fingers unhook her bra with expert ease. I pluck her panties until they fall to the floor. Demi is a work of art in the nude. The moonlight licks her every curve, and a touch of jealousy pulses through me at the idea.
“And what about you?” She pulls my tie and gives an honest effort at tearing off my shirt, but the buttons won’t give. “Sorry.” She wrinkles her nose and looks cute as hell. “I’ll have to go old school.” Demi unbuttons my shirt, dropping a kiss onto my chest after each and every one. I wait with superhuman patience as she unbuckles my belt. My pants and boxers hit the floor in tandem. “That’s more like it.”
“What about this?” I hold up my tie, and the moonlight spreads over it until it morphs into a long, silver tongue.
She reels me in with it as if it were a leash. “That, my love, is going to make things interesting.”
I loop the excess around the back of her neck and bring her face to mine.
“Yes, it will.” I pick Demi up and take her to the bedroom. Rose petals are strewn over the bed, and a bottle of champagne sits chilling in the corner. She kicks her feet in the air as I glide us over the petals, soft as sin.
Demi reaches up and takes off her mother’s pearl necklace. Her hand glides to the nightstand, and she exchanges it for the rose gold chain with the pendant I made for her and clasps it around her neck.
“You plus me equals forever.” She kisses the pendant before letting it fall to her chest.
“Best kind of math.” I run my finger over the tiny heart.
“Hope you don’t mind the petals.” Demi scoops up a handful and tosses them in the air. “Kennedy insisted.”
“I’m glad.” My teeth graze over her ear. “You know what else I’m glad about?”
Demi reaches down and wraps her hand over me, stroking me until I outright groan.
“I can guess,” she whispers.
“That, and the fact everything worked out for a greater good. That’s what we are, Demi”—I brush the hair from her eyes—“we’re good.”
“We’re perfect. And don’t you forget it.” She pulls me over her, and I drop a kiss onto her forehead.
“I won’t. In fact, I’ll be sure to jog your memory night after night in the event it starts to slip your mind. Just like this.” My mouth falls over hers. Demi hugs me with her legs, and I ease my way in, burying myself deep inside the woman I love—the woman who just officially became my wife.
Things happen for a reason. Sometimes a tragic event can lead to the most magnificent blessings. It did for us. Once we swam through the tragedies of our parents, of Nora and Josh and the misery they put Demi through—the ironies life gave with Warren McCarthy, of all people, working for us—or Demi and I finding each other, period—it’s pretty clear this marriage bed was the destination all along. It was a long winding road on a runaway train, but, here we are, arriving safely at the station—ready to begin a new journey, a better one, together.
“You ready to rock this bed?” I pull her wrists together and bind them with my tie.
A laugh gets trapped in her throat. “You think you’re smart don’t you, Jackson?”
“I know I am. I have you beneath me don’t I, Jackson?” I pull her wedding ring up to my lips and kiss it.
“I guess you are.” She grinds her hips into me, and I lose it. I thrust into Demi like my life depends on it. Her hips move with mine gentle at first, then with a hacking rhythm that meets me right where I need to be.
We burn the sheets all night with our insatiable desire, and I run my lips over every square inch of her, making love to her with my tongue, with my hands, with my whole body. I want Demi to know she’s in for a lifetime of pleasure. God gave me a gift, and I plan to cherish her each day in just this manner, just as prolifically.
Demi and I are more than lovers, more than friends, we’re family. She is my wife, my everything—the sun in this ever-present darkness known as life. Demi brings the sunshine—every day is brighter with her in it.
Demi blesses me with a kiss that could take down kingdoms.
I move inside her, and we start all over.
I’ve never felt more complete, more like a man than I do tonight with Demi. I’m glad she landed in the right boathouse all those months ago. Fate brought us together that afternoon—after all, she was mine to begin with. And I’m hers in every single way. Demi has me on a string, floating off the helium of her love.
I’m all hers.
And I’m damn glad she’s mine.
Demi and I are happy.
We knock that headboard into the night like machine gun fire. I don’t care if the entire lake is lit up by the racket. Demi and I are writing a love song, sending it into the night on a rocket straight to heaven. This is Morse Code for we’re doing just fine, better than fine.
Demi and I didn’t meet due to the unfortunate circumstances that led to the demise of our families. If fate hadn’t led her into my boathouse, we would have connected some other way. Maybe we would have met at Yeats, at some frat party in front of the beer pong table, at the library bantering about feminism—at a gas station filling up our tanks. Fate would have worked out the details even if tragedy never intervened. When two people are meant for one another there isn’t a thing the seven-billion people on this planet can do to get in their way. They simply find each other.
Demi and I found each other.
We found love and family.
We made it.
We’re finally home.