Justice
“I’m getting pretty tired of you sitting on my couch stark naked and working. It’s kind of pissing me off, to tell you the truth.”
Milla’s hair was piled in what I now called the “working bun” on top of her head. Her black-rimmed glasses sat low on her nose.
Other than her black-and-silver nail polish, she wore nothing.
Just like I liked her.
“Bullshit. This is why you got Internet out here. You say it’s for your business, but really it’s to keep me hostage here working and naked. Plus, it’s laundry day, and you accidentally put every stitch of clothing I have in the washing machine on the longest wash setting known to man. I’m sorry this is such an imposition to you.”
I bit the side of my cheek to keep from smiling. “Well, I have a partial solution.”
She never looked up from the computer, but her fingers kept pounding away as though her conversation with me was the secondary item on her agenda. The vixen.
“Does this partial solution have anything to do with all the racket you’ve been making this morning. At one point, I swear I heard you take the door off the hinges. It must’ve taken you ten minutes to find the right screwdriver.” Her eyes ticked up at my face and then down at my crotch. “The one you have must’ve been too small.”
“That’s it.” I took the laptop from her crossed legs and tossed it to the side of the couch.
She screamed, “Hey!” and pretended to be completely angry.
She wasn’t.
Turned-on was more like it.
“Stop. I can’t right now. I have work to do.”
“Trust me. You can stop for this.”
I put my hand over her eyes.
“Justice. I’ve seen your junk before. There’s no reason to hide my eyes.”
My mate could be the most ridiculous genius in the world.
“I thought you might want a few things for today and for, you know, living here, since you are living here now.”
“Fine.” She stomped her foot. “Show me for goodness’ sake.”
I turned her around, uncovered her eyes, and held my breath.
“Oh, Justice.”
The sound from her mouth wasn’t the “Oh, Justice” I was used to hearing. I hadn’t made her come a thousand times or just ripped off her panties.
This “Oh, Justice” sounded like it came from her heart.
“I’ve been making it since you got back in town. I tried to convince myself it would sell on the website, but before long it evolved into a piece just for us. Fuck. You don’t like it?”
I couldn’t tell. A thousand emotions tornadoed in her scent.
“I fucking love it. Them. I should say them. How did you know...and oh, Justice.”
Another one. And not the sexy kind—again.
“I bought it online. Not sure if it’s your size.”
“It is.” She let the fabric of the white dress flow through her fingers. “It’s perfect, Justice.”
My mate was saying my name—a lot.
“The desk?”
“The desk is amazing. I’ve never seen one so big.”
“Well, it’s cold in here. Just wait until later.”
“How long have you been hiding this stuff from me?” Milla walked up to me and burrowed her face in my neck. “And you said you weren’t good at the gushy stuff.”
“I’m not—with words.”
She giggled again, and the sound made me shiver.
“No, babe, not with words. With furniture and desks, and headboards and stunning wedding dresses. Oh, fuck! What time is it?”
I looked at my watch. “Time for a pre-wedding quickie.”
“No way. I have to shower and find mascara or something, and oh…”
Yeah, there was always time to please my mate.
~~
“I didn’t know y’all owned suits.”
My motley crew lined up at the courthouse, all in mismatched suits and badly knotted ties. Etienne had decided on his uniform instead, standing next to Tansy, who brightened up the place, as usual, in a pink dress that made her look like pregnant lipstick.
They looked ridiculous.
And fucking badass.
These were our people. Rundown houses, mouths dirtier than a dammed-up bayou creek, and about as elegant as a buffalo in a fancy restaurant. We weren’t perfect or nice or ever polite.
But we loved our females more than any other, and we acted like a crew—like a fucking real crew.
And now my crew was here to see me make an honest woman out of Milla. She was shifter but insisted on a legit wedding.
I’d give her whatever she wanted, any day, any time.
“Let’s get these two hitched. I’ve got to get back to work.” Bruno strolled into the courthouse, also in his uniform. “Leon’s waiting.”
“Leon?” Milla asked, distress in her voice.
“Yeah. He got his certificate online. Said he wanted to help.”
“Another one that wants to be crew,” Tansy whispered to Etienne who rolled his eyes.
“We are not—”
“Shut up, Loic,” we chimed in with one voice.
Leon, wearing an ill-fitting gray suit, married us.
In the courthouse, we signed all the papers and initials next to the Xs. It was official. She was mine, according to Louisiana law and according to shifter law.
The woman I thought had once ruined me had made me whole again.
“I’m getting this female home now. You can all go,” I announced once she’d shown everyone her ring and they’d oohed and ahhed in the right places.
“Yes, mate. Get me home.”
We weren’t fully through our door when I ripped her wedding dress off and bent her over the couch, listening to the gloriousness that was her screaming my name. I rationalized that wedding dresses were one-event garments, but looked forward to her feistiness when she came out of her orgasmic haze to see the rags that once were her wedding dress in a pile on the floor.
I loved feisty Milla. I loved sassy Milla. I loved serious Milla. I loved silly Milla. Fuck it, I loved all of Milla and was the luckiest shifter on the planet to have her as my mate, and I vowed to show her how very true that was all the rest of our days.