CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Days rush by, and I’m finally able to wake up with one thought resounding through my head: It’s my wedding day.
The last week and a half has been a whirlwind of activity. My mother and Harlow’s sisters-in-law got together to design a wedding dress for my bride that I’m assured fits her style perfectly. My aunt dropped her life to make it in record time. I own a tux, but asked Trace and Harlow’s brothers to stand up with me, so they’ve rented theirs to match. She asked one of her sorority sisters, as well as Keeley and Britta to be her bridesmaids. It’s a sunny, breezy day. Not a cloud in the sky.
I wish I could say everything was perfect, but I’ve got some worries. Since discovering that she’s pregnant, Harlow’s mood has been day to day. She’s happy at times, and our visit to the doctor was full of smiles. She seems a little anxious about losing the baby still, especially late at night when she’s tired and asks herself if she should be slowing down. She can be moody first thing in the morning, which evens out as soon as we start journaling, doing yoga, and engaging in other visualization or breathing exercises. The best thing? She wants sex. All. The. Time. It’s so awesome that I’m more than happy to deal with whatever mood Harlow is in because she’s always putting a smile on my face.
But other issues in life still hang over my head. Mercedes Fleet came forward with a list of demands mere days after Harlow discovered she was pregnant. Through lawyers, I saw her ridiculous list of “must-haves.” I placated her until she finally agreed to that damn DNA test. Interesting that she dragged her feet… But yesterday, she finally gave a blood sample. Within a week, I’ll be off the hook. Harlow and I haven’t talked about the whole mess any more. I don’t know whether she believes I didn’t get that woman pregnant. The worry niggles at the back of my head.
The last complication is her parents. Harlow finally agreed to let them attend the ceremony. Maxon texted their mother with the details last night. Griff contacted their father. I’m curious about why they each chose a parent to interact with, but they must have their reasons. In both cases, her parents said they would be there but they didn’t appreciate the short notice or being unable to bring their current significant others. That was another one of Harlow’s demands. They also won’t be participating in the ceremony.
“You ready, man?” Trace barges into the bedroom at Maxon and Keeley’s utterly charming bed-and-breakfast. We have a gag order on all guests and staff for the big event, but we’ll release pictures and information afterward.
I wonder if my soon-to-be brother-in-law and his lovely wife have any idea that this will thrust their sleepy, burgeoning little business into the spotlight and that they’ll soon be busier than they imagined. Smiling to myself, I turn to my brother as I zip my fly. “Just have to put on my shoes. Hey, could you give this to Britta to give to Harlow before the ceremony?” I found a beautiful necklace with three diamonds—one for me, one for her, one for the family we’re creating. “Tell her it’s my wedding gift and I’d love for her to wear it during the ceremony.”
“Sure.” Trace takes the box from me, then reaches into his tuxedo jacket to pull out a flat rectangular package wrapped in tissue paper with a colorful red and silver bow. “This is from Harlow, for you.”
I tear into the delicate wrapping and find a picture of the two of us taken last week when we barbecued with her family at my place. The sun slants over Harlow, lighting her up as she tosses her arms around me and kisses my cheek. I’m smiling from ear to ear. Her engagement ring glints in the golden shimmer of light. We look damn happy. Even better, the frame around this image is made of gorgeous sun-bleached wood and engraved with the words TOGETHER IS A WONDERFUL PLACE TO BE.
I hold the gift tight in my fist and choke up, hoping like hell this is her way of saying she loves me. Because she hasn’t said that out loud. “Tell her I said thank you.”
Trace claps me on the shoulder. “You picked a good woman. I wish I could meet a woman half as awesome as Harlow.”
“You will,” I assure my brother. He’s a good guy, after all. “How are things looking out there?”
“Gorgeous. Keeley and Britta have this wedding shit down. And the officiant is a dead ringer for Uncle Ano, right down to the big belly and straggly beard.” Trace laughs. “Both men had a chuckle about that. The flowers are beautiful. The photographer is ready. The cake looks scrumptious. And your bride seems nervous but…man. Your jaw is gonna drop. She’s gorgeous.”
I wish like hell I could talk to Harlow and reassure her, but Keeley and Britta have been uber-protective and determined to maintain that damn tradition of the groom not seeing the bride before the wedding.
“I can’t wait. Let’s do this.”
“Cool your jets, brother. You’ve got ten minutes. But it’s just adorable to see you so eager,” he pokes fun at me, then claps me on the shoulder. “Congratulations. I know your life with Harlow will be happy.”
I try not to remember that she’s still talking divorce in twelve months. I’m going to move heaven and earth to keep her beside me and so ecstatic she’ll never want to leave.
“Thanks, man.”
As I pack the picture and frame she gave me in my duffel, Trace leaves to deliver my gift. Time is tick-tocking with the speed of frozen molasses. I double-check my pockets to ensure that I have everything I need for my plans at the reception. I don’t know her parents or what exactly they’ve done to her, but the necklace I gave her was a simple token. The real wedding gift I’m hoping to arrange is one intended to give her long-term peace of mind.
When I speak my vows, I’ll be promising to love, honor, cherish, and protect Harlow. I take that seriously.
Finally, Maxon and Griff wander into the room.
“You ready?” Griff asks. “Palms sweating?”
I’m cool and ready to bounce. “Nope. Just impatient.”
Since I’ve got a few minutes before the ceremony, I decide to share my plan. I want their approval, especially since I realize this will affect them, too.
“So…I want to give Harlow peace. She’s been through a rough couple of months.”
“What do you have in mind? Extended honeymoon?” Griff winces as if the thought of what we might do on said newlywed getaway is painful to consider.
“Not exactly, no.” I blow out a nervous breath. “I don’t know all the details, but I think you were right. Your parents might be part of her problem.”
“Told you,” Maxon returns.
“I had no doubt.” Griff shakes his head, his face tight with loathing.
Relief that they’re listening winds through me, and I warm to my subject. “Since I don’t know if she’ll truly be able to feel peace until they’re gone from her life, my plan is to make them go away.”
Maxon grins. “If Harlow doesn’t already love you madly, she will after this, I suspect. My mother will jump if you offer her money. My dad is playing a shell game with the bulk of their wealth, and I think she’s panicking that she will wind up virtually penniless when the ink dries on their decree.”
“And aww…her boy toy will go away and use his penis to bilk some other woman old enough to be his mother out of her divorce settlement.” Griff rolls his eyes. “What a shame.”
The younger Reed brother really doesn’t like his mother. No doubt, there’s one hell of a story there.
“Dad is less motivated by money,” Maxon spits. “He loves it, but he’s far more interested in pussy. And avoiding public humiliation. Hey!” His eyes light up. “I could tell you a few stories you could threaten to spill to the press. Anonymously, of course, so it doesn’t come back to you. It’s verifiable information. Throw in a hooker or two, and he’ll probably go quietly. Most of Harlow’s life he said he didn’t have use for a ‘splittail.’”
I haven’t even met this man and I seriously want to punch his face. I want to make him feel the pain Harlow has felt, which he clearly never bothered to care about.
“Lay it on me. I’m happy to use whatever you can tell me.”
Maxon’s grin is full of glee as he fills me in on Barclay’s sexual exploits with secretaries, employees…and the daughters of some of his best friends. He has to talk fast because it’s a lot, but by the time Trace sticks his head in the door with a thumbs-up, I’ve heard enough to nail this bastard to the wall. And I can’t wait.
I head out to the makeshift altar—a huge arch wreathed in a burst of colorful tropical flowers. The ocean roars at my back, and there’s a simple white runner between two rows of chairs on the front lawn, overlooking the beach. About twenty people are gathered to witness the ceremony to be presided over by a guy who really does look like my uncle Ano. My family fills one side of the seating. Harlow’s side is virtually empty, so I don’t have to guess who her parents are. They’re sitting in the front row three chairs apart, looking somewhere between uncomfortable and disdainful. Assholes. Everyone else—even my agent, Cliff, who never celebrates anything—looks excited to be witnessing our happiness unfold.
I feel at peace. I know the next year won’t be easy but I’m all about seizing opportunities. Harlow will be mine for the rest of our lives.
As soon as I’m in place with Trace at my side, the piped-in music stops and Keeley walks up the aisle, bouquet in hand, beaming. She sets her flowers aside and grabs the mic that’s been arranged up front. Her beautiful, almost haunting voice fills the air around me with a vaguely familiar tune. I know I’ve heard it on the radio, but I can’t place it. I wish like hell I could when Keeley sings of today being the first words of a lifelong love letter. When she belts out the lyrics “I choose you…” I start humming along with the Sara Bareilles tune.
Harlow’s friend Kiaria strolls up the aisle in an azure dress that clings to her arms just off the shoulder and molds to her delicate curves. Britta proceeds down the aisle next in a similar dress in a complementing shade of blue.
Keeley finishes the song, then falls into place near the rest of the bridal party, mic still in hand. We left Maxon’s bride in charge of the music and so far she’s chosen fantastically well.
When the next song starts, I know right away it’s “I Will Follow You Into the Dark” by Death Cab for Cutie. It’s an unusual choice, but Keeley’s delivery of the lyrics is emotional, her voice caressing every note and wrapping it in something special before she moves on to the next. I look across the lawn, back toward the house, breath held as I wait for Harlow.
It seems to take an eternity, but I finally see her come toward me in a flowing white dress that hugs her slender waist and ruffles at the shoulders before crossing in a gentle V above her cleavage. A flower at her hip where the fabric gathers gives way to waves of white chiffon waterfalling down to pool around her feet. The diamonds I gave her glitter and sparkle at her neck, making her look every bit as feminine as the white lily tucked behind her ear, bright against her raven hair. I nearly choke at how beautiful she looks. How radiant. I’ve cried very few times in my life—my father’s funeral, my first Super Bowl win…and today. Seeing Harlow come toward me, willing to give me potentially the rest of her life, hits me square in the chest.
“You should see your face,” Trace leans in and whispers. “You love that woman.”
I don’t answer, just smile. Yeah, I do and I don’t care who knows it. And as Harlow comes closer, I see her glowing, her gaze fixed on mine. The windows to her soul look wide open. Tears perch on her lash line, threatening to spill, but the happy curl of her lips makes her expression infinitely sweet. I’d love to freeze this moment in time, so ripe with hope, and stay forever.
The song ends after the first verse when Maxon and Griff deliver their sister into my hands and I curl my fingers around hers. The men join Trace, and the officiant in the vest with the loud Hawaiian shirt underneath welcomes everyone to the beginning of our lifelong union of happiness.
Harlow glances my way again, and our gazes connect. The ground staggers beneath my feet, and I turn dizzy, a little sweaty. She can read me, so she squeezes my hands and raises her shoulders as she inhales before slowly letting the air leave her, encouraging me to follow along. After a few breaths, it helps and I feel calm flow over me again. I’m going to speak my damn vows today. Nothing will stop me.
The ceremony is everything I imagined, and it seems as if I’ve barely had time to blink before we’re sliding rings on each other’s fingers and being pronounced man and wife. Harlow smiles up at me before she leans closer and her eyes slide shut. I wrap my arms around my wife—it feels awesome to call her that—and kiss her with all my heart, silently telling her that it’s the first day of the rest of our lives together.
When we break apart, I raise our clasped hands above our heads with a whoop. Our guests cheer—except for her parents. I ignore them as we race back down the aisle and head toward the massive tent set up on the other side of the wide yard.
Inside the reception site, a champagne waterfall flows, the cake is ready to cut, the deejay is already grinding out celebratory tunes. I hold my wife close before the rest of the wedding party arrives. “Hello, Mrs. Weston.”
She raises a brow at me. “How do you know I haven’t changed my mind? Maybe I want to go by Reed.”
I know she’s teasing me since we discussed this. Well, I insisted she change her name. It’s the only thing I asked for. If she feels as if she’s belonged to me from the beginning of our union, I’m hoping she’ll find it easier to stay for the rest of our lives.
When I growl at her, she laughs. “Gotcha, Mr. Weston.”
“That’s husband to you.”
With a nod, she moves in for a kiss that’s sweet and slow and full of promise. “So…husband, how long do we have to stay here and make nice before we can get out of these clothes so we can get sweaty together?”
“Still can’t get enough of me after this morning? And last night?”
“Never,” she says softly.
God, I must be smitten because all I can do is hold this woman close and kiss her breathless.
“Hey, get a room,” Maxon shouts as he, Trace, and Griff enter the tent, Keeley and Britta beside them.
I give him a good-natured laugh. “So the day you got married, you wanted to shake hands and dance and mingle without any thought of being alone with your bride whatsoever?”
He scowls. “Shut up.”
With a rosy blush, Keeley laughs. “He’s often surly, but that day… I swear he was barely civil to guests about two hours into the reception. I had to coax him into cutting the cake before he grabbed me by the hand and led me off to the bedroom.”
Everyone laughs as more guests fill in. I introduce Harlow’s siblings and their wives to my family, and they all start chatting immediately. Everyone seems to get along, find something in common, despite coming from really different places and backgrounds. I couldn’t ask for more.
Then Barclay and Linda Reed creep into the tent, glancing around, looking extremely out of place. As soon as Harlow spots them, she tenses.
“Relax. It will be all right,” I assure her.
“They’re going to make a scene. Because we planned everything without my mother, she will criticize every bit of this ceremony. She expresses her hurt by hurting others. My dad… I have no idea how he’ll retaliate, but it won’t be pretty.”
I lead her to a quiet corner and take both her hands in mine. “I want to give you another wedding gift.”
Harlow immediately touches the necklace at her throat. “You don’t have to get me anything. This is already more than I need. It’s so beautiful, by the way. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But I want to give you something you really want. The thing is, you have to tell me if you can live with it. Because once it’s done, it will be damn hard to undo.”
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I can make your parents leave you alone for the rest of your life, probably your brothers, too. They’re okay with my idea. If you don’t want them in your life ever again, all you have to do is say the word.”
Surprise transforms her face. “Really? It’s so…sudden.”
“I know. So if it’s not something you want, I won’t do it. If it is, then I’ll make it happen.”
“That’s going to cost you a fortune, I already know. I can’t let you—”
“Money isn’t the issue. I don’t care how much I have to drop if having them out of your life will give you peace of mind.”
Harlow’s face fills with emotion, with gratitude. Lips trembling, brows knitting, cheeks turning red, she looks seconds away from crying. “You don’t even know what happened with them. Why would you do this for me?”
“Because they’re the kind of parents who weren’t there for a nineteen-year-old girl who needed their help. And because I love you. My job now is to make you happy, and I intend to do it so well you’ll never want to leave.”
Tears roll from her eyes and down her cheeks. “It probably sounds terrible because they’re family and we’re supposed to stick together. But that’s not the sort of parents they’ve ever been. I don’t want them anywhere near our son or daughter, and I’d be forever grateful not to have to see them again.”
I’m relieved that I read her right and she’s not offended by my offer. “I have paperwork and a checkbook. I’ll take care of it.”
The tent fills up quickly after that. We eat dinner, toast our union, cut the cake, have our first dance. Every time I see one of Harlow’s parents trying to approach her, I whisk my wife into another conversation or activity. It doesn’t escape my notice that Linda Reed has spoken to no one, as if she finds all these people beneath her, even her own daughters-in-law. Barclay has ignored everyone at the reception except my agent, Cliff. Clearly, Harlow’s father has figured out that my professional right hand can open doors and he’s determined to fast-talk and suck up until Cliff gives him the time of day.
Hours have passed, and it looks as if Harlow’s parents are getting seriously annoyed that they have had no part of the ceremony and have not been given a moment of the bride’s time. Other guests have finally found their own fun on the dance floor and have stopped making friendly overtures toward the standoffish couple.
That’s when I approach them alone at their table. “Mr. and Mrs. Reed, I’m Noah Weston.”
Barclay stands, all charm and smiles. “Our new son-in-law. Welcome to the family. We’re glad to have you and if you’re making our little girl happy—”
“I plan to. Let’s take a walk. It’s loud in here, and I’d like to talk to you.”
“Sure. Anything. And if you’re ever looking for business opportunities, I know some amazing venture capitalists—”
“I’ll take that under advisement.” As I step to the opening of the tent, Barclay and Linda follow me. I gesture them out to the breezy Hawaiian evening, glancing back at Harlow nestled between her two brothers, looking at me with her heart in her eyes.
With a nod, I exit out the flap and lead her parents toward the parking lot. They’re going to leave as soon as we’re done talking. I’ll insist on it.
“What can we do for you, son?” Barclay asks.
That’s something I never want him to call me again. My dad was the most selfless, loving man I’ve ever known and I can’t imagine how Maxon and Griff have learned to become good men with this self-serving shitbag as a father. “I’d like to make you an offer.”
Barclay is all smiles. “Love to hear it.”
When I glance Linda’s way, she curls her artificially enhanced lips up as much as the Botox allows and wraps her bony fingers around my arm, eyes widening as if she’s an ingénue, not a cougar. “We’re definitely all ears.”
“Excellent.” I work myself loose from Linda’s grip. In no way, shape, or form do I want to give that woman any idea that I’m interested in her overtures. “Harlow would like peace and happiness in her life. It’s come to my attention these are two things you’ve never cared whether she’s had in the past. That changes now. Mr. Reed—”
“Barclay, please. Harlow has misrepresented her childhood, I’m sure. She had the best of everything—schools, clothes, cars. The truth is, she suffers from a bit of leftover teen angst.”
It’s all I can do not to call bullshit as I throttle the asshole. “I tend to believe my wife. She desires your absence from her life. In exchange—”
“That’s absurd,” her father insists. “We had no intention of barging in on her honeymoon. Of course we’ll give her a few weeks of privacy while she settles into married life.”
“Exactly.” Linda sends her soon-to-be ex-husband a sidelong glance as if she’s reading him so they can plot, then sidles closer to me again. “We were thinking that we should have a lovely cookout for Fourth of July. Or perhaps later that month we can celebrate my birthday together as a family.”
“No. She desires both of you absent for the rest of her life.”
“What?” Linda looks shocked and perplexed. “What stories has that silly girl been telling you?”
I know of few women who are less “silly” than Harlow, and her mother’s question only pisses me off more.
“Details are unpleasant and unnecessary. Let’s get down to business. Mrs. Reed, if you’ll sign an agreement to walk away from Harlow and abide by it, I’ll give you five million dollars—evenly divided over the next ten years.”
The woman’s blue eyes widen with a gasp. She licks her lips, looking nervous.
“Linda…” Barclay growls in warning as if he knows she’ll be tempted.
She ignores him. “You’ll put that in writing?”
“I’ve already got it right here.” I extract the agreements I had drafted, which are sealed in envelopes. “If you sign tonight, I’ll give you a twenty-five-thousand-dollar bonus.”
“No,” Harlow’s father answers for his estranged wife.
“Yes,” she snaps defiantly, then whirls on him.
“We value family too much.”
She scoffs at his clenched-teeth assertion. “When have you ever given two shits about your children unless they could somehow help you? Never.” The woman turns to me. “I’ll take it.”
“I forbid it,” Barclay insists, fists clenched.
That makes Linda laugh. “You don’t have that power anymore. If I want to escape you, I need money, you tight-fisted bastard. Our new son-in-law has just given me the means to say sayonara to you forever. I’ll see you in court, of course. After all, I helped you make most of that money and spent more than one evening on my back with your sweaty colleagues to make deals happen, so I’m entitled to half.”
Holy shit. Linda isn’t exaggerating, either. Not if Barclay’s face is any indication. That’s how much this man wanted money and power, enough to whore out his own wife?
“Prenuptial agreement, remember?” The man smiles acidly.
“It’s ancient,” she insists with a stomp of her foot.
“But binding.”
“We’ll see. In the meantime, I’m taking Weston’s money and spending my life with Marco, a real man who gives a damn about someone besides himself.”
“He’ll give a damn about you as long as you have cash, Linda. As soon as it’s dried up, so will his affection.”
“You don’t know anything about us.” She turns back to me. “Where do I sign?”
“It’s not quite that simple,” I say, glad the bickering twosome finally gave me an opening. “Mr. Reed—”
“I don’t need your money.”
“You don’t.” I nod. I’ve had this guy investigated over the past couple of days. He’s got a healthy bank balance to go with his rotting heart. “But as I understand it, you’re about to close on big deal with some slightly reluctant owners of a lucrative family-owned business. Great product, by the way. With the right exposure, it will take off and make everyone millions. You have an obviously good nose for business.”
“I do, which is why if you stop listening to whatever nonsense Harlow is spouting, you’ll see that you and I can make serious bank together and—”
“How would an openly religious family feel about knowing that you have a nasty predilection for seducing your very young secretaries and getting them pregnant? How would they feel about knowing you have two illegitimate children and another on the way?”
“You have no proof!”
“I do. Evan Cook bumped his DNA against Maxon’s. We have the test results. I’m also in the process of tracking down your other daughter, Bethany, right now.”
“That was decades ago. I’ll tell them I’m a born-again man.”
“Well, I also have a sworn statement from one of your more recent assistants, Liselle. She signed an affidavit that you hired her at twenty and had her pregnant a few months later. You fired her when she had an abortion and refused to warm your bed again. You’re on the verge of settling her lawsuit, aren’t you?”
“You bastard! What do you want?” He flushes red, green eyes flaring as if he’d like to get violent.
But Barclay is too smart for that. As much as it clearly chaps him raw, he knows I’ll annihilate him if he throws down.
“I want you to sign an agreement that, in exchange for my silence on this matter, you’ll never speak to Harlow again unless she makes a written overture to you first, which I will have to approve and have my lawyers vet. This offer is only good tonight. If you leave the reception before agreeing, I’ll be leaking the information of your indiscretions the second you drive away.” I turn back to Harlow’s mother. “And you won’t get a dime unless your husband falls in line—and stays there. So I suggest you start talking him into it now. I’ll give you two minutes to discuss.”
It doesn’t even take them that long to come to a consensus. They start whispering furiously before I’ve even walked away. Thirty seconds later, Barclay clears his throat. “Fine. We’ll sign. That whore of a daughter never lived up to her full potential. I’m happy to dump her worthless ass in your lap. You can take care of her now. But you mark my words…” He points a finger in my face, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to punch the smarmy sneer off his lips. “She will be nothing but a disappointing albatross who drags you down. Enjoy that.”
It’s late when we leave the merriment. Harlow and I finally retire to the suite Maxon and Keeley reserved for us. A big tester bed draped in pure fluffy white, almost like a cloud, beckons. As we reach the threshold of the room, I hear the revelers fading in the background. Harlow fidgets by my side.
When I lift her into my arms, she clasps her hands around my neck and relaxes into my hold. “I can’t believe we’re married.”
“We are. And now I’m going to make sure you don’t forget it.”
Even in the low, flickering light of a dozen candles scattered around the room, I see her flush as I kick the door shut and carry her across the room while her shoes drop to the bamboo floor in a tumble.
“What does male ána mean?” she asks about the decorative sign on the door.
“Wedding.” I set her on her feet at the side of the bed and draw the gauzy white drapes shut.
“That’s fitting, then.” Her voice shakes. “You know, Maxon and Keeley have done a lot to spruce up this place in a short time and I think they—”
“Do you really want to discuss their decor right now?”
Harlow presses her lips together. “No. I’m just…nervous.”
“You’re not alone,” I assure Harlow as I bring her close again and whisper in her ear, “Aloha au ia ’oe.” When she searches my face for the meaning, I tell her in low tones, “I love you.”
“Noah…”
She’s afraid to admit she loves me, too. I’m almost convinced she does. A hundred times in a hundred ways every day, she says or does something to prove it. For whatever reason, the words are trapped in her heart. But I have a year with her now. I’ll coax them out.
“Shh. Nou No Ka ’I’ini.” I untie the delicate white sash around her dress and let it flutter to the floor. “I desire you.”
Before she can answer, I place my fingertip at the hollow of her neck and trace my way down to the hint of cleavage visible above her dress. Her eyes drift shut with a sigh.
“Touch me,” she murmurs. “I want you so much…”
I lower the zipper down her back. “In good time, wahine.”
“Wife?” she asks breathlessly as the dress clings only to her shoulders.
“Exactly.”
Seconds later, I push the fabric down one arm, then the other. The gown slithers to her feet, revealing a gift that leaves me hard and aching and amazed that this woman is mine.
“You looked beautiful in your wedding dress, but this…” I blow out a harsh breath. “Whoa.”
I have no words to describe Harlow standing before me in a creamy-white baby doll made entirely of transparent lace—except the silk covering her nipples and the underwires supporting her plump breasts. A big bow at the bottom of the silk shows off her tiny waist and the long line of her flat abdomen before tapering down to the flare of her hips and the shadow between her thighs, barely covered by a gossamer strip of peekaboo silk.
I’m going to lose my mind before I get my hands—and my mouth—on all of her.
“You’re beyond gorgeous,” I finally finish. “But what you’re wearing is dangerous.”
She raises a brow at me. “Dangerous? It’s not the kind of outfit I’d wear if I wanted to Krav Maga your ass.”
“It’s the kind of outfit you wear to seduce a man.” My fingers skim down, knuckles brushing the swells of her breasts. “And trust me, you’re going to get fucked.”
“Oh? I thought you’d make me feel tender and adored, like a delicate flower, on our wedding night,” she baits me with a flutter of her lashes.
“I will,” I assure her, caressing her hair back from her face before cupping her nape. “When we leave here in the morning, you’ll have no doubt I value you above everything else. But you’ll also be wrung out, deliciously sore, and smiling.”
“You say the sweetest things, you big hunk of romance.” She winks.
I chuckle as I undo the bow of her nightie and watch it loosen around her body. “I’m the most romantic bastard you’ll ever be married to.”
As the garment falls into my palms, I lean in to kiss my bride again, the way I’ve wanted to since the officiant said I could earlier this afternoon. As before, our lips meet, slow and sweet, clinging and brushing. A spark. A tingle. A thrill racing through my body as I peel away the rest of her clothing and leave her in nothing except the diamonds I bought to fasten around her neck and the ring I put on her finger.
“That may be, but…aren’t you overdressed?”
I send her a lazy grin as I shrug out of my suit coat, bow tie, and shirt. Harlow’s breath catches as she caresses her way up my bare chest as if she can’t stop herself from touching me. I let her palm my shoulders and my pectorals as I unhook the fastening at my fly and yank down my zipper. I toss everything onto a nearby chair and face her, wearing absolutely nothing.
“This what you had in mind?”
She eyes my cock, saluting her at full staff. I had her last night…and this morning—hard. It doesn’t matter, though. I’m beyond eager to sink inside Harlow again, to make our union official in every way.
“I think you’ll have to come a bit closer,” she coaxes.
“Why don’t you get on the bed, lie on your back, and spread your legs for me?”
She blinks…but I don’t change course.
I haven’t forgotten her reaction to my subtle hint of dominance our first night together. I’ve waited, bided my time until I thought she trusted me enough to give me not only her body but her free will for a night. I’m not sure how she’ll react, if I’m asking for too much, too soon. But some part of her wants a man she can trust, who will take care of her in every way. I’m hoping she’ll let me start here and now.
“What?” She sounds somewhere between shocked and breathlessly aroused.
“You heard me.”
A hint of thrill dawns on her face as she shuffles toward the mattress and tumbles back, eyes wide and on me. She parts her thighs shyly. I can see a mere hint of the pink slickness between. “Like this?”
Her question has my stare jerking back to her face. She’s biting her lip, and that rosy pout is making me think all kinds of sinful thoughts about how to put her lips to good use.
Jesus, I’ve barely touched her and my chest is heaving. Even the suggestion that I could command a woman as independent as Harlow floods my system with desire. It runs thick and hot through my veins.
“Wider. Show me your pussy. Show me what’s mine.”
Bracing her feet on the edge of the bed, she flares her legs farther apart, giving me a glimpse of everything wet and feminine and rosy in between. She’s aroused, too. I know her body well now. I know when she’s swollen and pouty. Already her clit looks hard. Harlow is ready. Hell, she’s eager.
A thousand urges pelt me at once, but one towers over the others. I need this—need her—now. Face to face. Heart to heart. Lips connected. Bodies joined.
I caress my way down her thigh and drag my fingers through her glossy folds, gratified by the catch of her breath. After leaning in for a kiss, I sit beside her and grab her wrist, giving her a gentle tug. “Straddle me.”
Without hesitation, she tosses one thigh over my hips and rises onto her knees, positioning herself above my cock. I hold myself in place, nestling my head at her opening and aligning us. When she tries to slide down my length, I hold her hips, make her wait.
Harlow loves every position. She’s enjoyed sex against a wall. She shivers when I take her from behind. She loves the way I kiss her when I’m on top. But after hundreds of hours making love to this woman, I know that nothing sets my wife on fire more than her impaling herself on my shaft as I guide her hips while she rides me.
When I drag my lips up her jaw and skirt the edge of her lips, the seconds tick by. I dive into her mouth. Our tongues tango as I cup one breast, teasing her hard nipple with my thumb. I taste her growing need. She starts to whimper, shifts restlessly, and tries to sink onto my cock. I tighten my hand on her hip to stay her.
“Not until I say so, wahine.”
“But Noah…”
“Not until you admit you want me.”
“I want you. So much. So bad.” She shakes her head at me. “All the time. You know that.”
I do. She’s never shy sexually, always willing to reach out day or night to tell me that she desires my touch and aches for the satisfaction I give her. It’s one of the reasons I feel so connected to Harlow. Not a day goes by that we don’t get lost in one another.
“Not until you admit that you’re mine.”
She peers into my eyes, as if understanding that I’m finally asking for more than her body. “I’m your lover and your wife.” Her exhalation rattles as if my demand has stirred her nerves again. “And I’m yours, Noah Weston. Only yours.”
Primal satisfaction roars through my body. I desire this woman with every cell in my body, every beat of my heart. And right now, I need to know that she belongs to me.
The next demand comes harder. “Not until you tell me how you feel about me.”
I’d give almost anything to hear that she loves me, but I can’t insist that she say it if she’s not ready. I want her words—whatever they are—to come from her heart.
Harlow opens her mouth, closes it, swallows. In my grip, she trembles. The movement is almost imperceptible…but I feel her.
“It’s okay, baby. Whatever you’re going to say, it’s fine. Just talk to me.”
For a moment, she closes her eyes, almost like she’s afraid to admit defeat. Then she sucks in a rough breath and nods. “Kāne… Did I say that right?”
“Husband?” I give her the translation of her Hawaiian word in English. “You said it perfectly.”
“I love you.”
Joy buoys me. She said the words freely, every syllable soft but heartfelt.
I let out a whoop. “That’s what I’ve waited to hear—for so long.”
“I know. I tried not to,” she says solemnly. “Fall in love, that is.”
“Oh, I’m aware.” I cup her cheek. “But I’m so glad you lost the battle with yourself. I’ll never make you regret it.”
“Tonight, when I saw my parents, when I realized what you were willing to do for me simply so I’d have peace…it all clicked. I couldn’t keep you at arm’s length because of anything they had done to me in the past. I couldn’t compare you to Simon, either. And I couldn’t punish you when you’ve done nothing but try to make my life better every day, in every way. You’ve tried to heal me and understand me and… It hit me when I saw you strolling back to the reception tonight after talking to them, whistling and looking so self-assured. You’re not the kind of man to make yourself bigger on the back of someone else’s degradation. You’re fair when treated fairly. You’re kind and funny and…everything I dreamed for as a little girl and didn’t think existed in this world.”
Hearing the cynicism in her voice give way to hope—and knowing I had something to do with that—makes me feel a hundred feet tall.
“Thank you for being so honest. I wanted to make you happy.”
“You have. More than I ever dared to wish for.”
She’s looking at me so solemnly, so sweetly. I can’t not touch her.
“Oh, baby…” I move in to kiss her.
She braces her hands on my chest. “Wait. Let me finish. I want to tell you everything I haven’t yet, everything that’s been holding me back. My…past. But not now. This is our wedding night. This is our night to celebrate us. I don’t want to take that away.”
Her words wrap around my throat and nearly choke me. I can’t swallow. I can’t speak. Harlow is willing to give me all the secrets she’s been protecting so fiercely? She’s well and truly mine now. That makes me want her even more.
“All right. You’re right, tonight should be about us. But I want to hear everything you have to say soon. If it upset or affected you, I want to know about it.”
She smiles softly. “And that’s why I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with you. You’re here not for just whatever you can manipulate out of the situation but simply for us.”
“Always.” I cup her face in my hands. “Now can I kiss you?”
Tears sheen in her eyes. The sob she’s holding in becomes a laugh. “The sooner the better.”
I can’t stand being even a breath apart from this woman for another moment. I seize her mouth with my own and nudge her body down onto me, letting her impale herself at whatever pace pleases her. When every inch of me is enveloped inside her, the connection is more than physical.
My tongue fills her as my cock does, and she shudders. I feel her heart beating furiously against mine. Harlow clings to me—fingers, thighs, lips. Eternity whispers through my head; she’s mine now and this is right. It’s the sweetest music ever. My wife challenges me. She selflessly helps me cope and recover every day. She makes me laugh and moves me in ways I never expected a woman to. And now she’s finally given me her heart.
I manage to tear my mouth from hers, band my arms around her, and rock with her. Lust scorches my blood as my heart threatens to explode. “Hearing your feelings was the sweetest wedding gift you could have given me. Say it again.”
“I love you.”
The words are something just above a whisper as if they still scare her on some level. But she’s braving her fears, opening up, and trusting me. She’s becoming one with me in every way. I feel like a king.
“I love you, baby. Dear god, you have no idea…” I rock inside her and groan, working to get deeper and fill my wife full of every bit of me that I can—cock, heart, love.
Harlow moves in earnest above me now, sliding up, then working the sensation down my length until I’m shuddering to hold back. As much as each sway and gyration of her hips undoes me, I can’t climax before Harlow. I won’t.
Lying back, I grab hold of her hips to pull her onto me completely and hold her still. “Don’t move unless I tell you.”
She keens in protest. “But I’m close.”
“I know.” I feel her tightening around me, clenching, clamping in desperate need.
Holy shit, she’s going to undo me if I don’t keep ruthless control over her every move.
“Noah…” She thrashes around to steal more sensation.
With one hand, I dig deeper into her flesh in warning. With the other, I tangle my fingers into her hair and force her to look at me. “Stop. Tonight, you’ll come when I want you to come. You’ll come because neither one of us can hold back for another second. And when that happens, you’re going to tell me you love me again. I’ll shout it back to you. Then you’ll collapse against me, panting and sated and sleepy. But I’ll just grab you again and start all over…” I press up beneath her, inching deeper inside her, gratified when she gasps because I know exactly where her sweet spot is and precisely how to stroke it repeatedly so she falls apart in my arms. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes. Please. Yes…”
“Please what?” I look into her eyes, telegraphing how much I need to hear her say who I am to her.
She meets my stare. Our gazes fuse.
“Please…husband.”
God, she’s perfect. She knows me, reads me, understands me. Harlow Weston utterly completes me.
That’s my last thought before I drive up inside her again with a roar, pistoning again and again against her most sensitive spot until she cries out. “Come now!”
Harlow does without hesitation, shattering above me with a face full of desperate passion. She’s holding nothing back now. She’s giving me everything—and I suddenly feel the difference between every other time we’ve had sex and tonight, when we’re making love not only without physical barriers but without mental ones, too.
“I love you…” she cries out as her body shudders with completion.
“I love you, too!” I release and empty every bit of myself inside her, then bring her close to hear our heartbeats slow together with a sigh of satisfaction.
Tonight is the first night of the rest of our lives together. I have to believe that nothing can tear us apart now.