Chapter 12
twelve
Jaclyn
My knees shake when Andrew releases his hold on my waist and takes a step back to give me some space. Except, I mourn the loss instantly. Missing his heat, the security of his arms around me. It’s like he’s taken away something precious I desperately need—a piece of me.
“You are the prettiest bride I’ve ever seen,” he says with a sigh.
“Have you seen many?” I ask, trying to find my equilibrium.
I swear I’ve been off balance since I stepped onto Gallant Mountain, and getting married doesn’t help.
Not that I regret any of it—I don’t. Cheri is the one who believes in love at first sight, not me.
Or I didn’t, rather. Kind of hard to stick to that argument when I’m standing in front of my husband with his rings on my finger after I’ve known him for less than twenty-four hours.
Something tells me I’m going to end up in one of Cheri’s books, if she hasn’t already started writing it.
“Three of my brothers and a few friends from college. My brothers’ weddings were similar to ours, but my friends had elaborate affairs, hundreds of guests, and way too much liquor.
Even if we’d waited, I would have preferred what we had to some overblown monstrosity.
” As he speaks, he loosens his tie. Ironically, it’s baby blue.
I wonder if one of my new sisters-in-law told him the color of my dress.
Not that it matters, no one took any photos.
Shit. Cheri’s going to kill me. I totally blanked about the video call with her.
I’d meant to ask Emma before we left for the courthouse, but everything moved so fast. Even if I had remembered prior to the ceremony, as soon as I saw Andrew in his black bespoke suit, whatever brain cells I still had ceased to function.
His ocean-blue eyes fixed on me as soon as I walked into the room, seeming to note every detail of my appearance.
I did the same, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe.
I was marrying the man I’d been crushing on for years, who was most likely the reason I decided to work for JNG.
But back then it seemed like a dream or maybe a fantasy—one never coming true.
Except there he was, standing with who I assumed was the judge, looking like he should be on the cover of a magazine.
He’d pulled his hair back, which only drew my attention to his chiseled cheekbones, how his cropped beard hugged his jaw, and those lips just begging to be kissed.
“What’s wrong, Sweetpea?” he asks gently, reaching for me, but keeping his distance, even though I can see how he wants to touch me. He’s watching me closely. Maybe he’s worried I’ll run for it, but why would I?
“I just remembered we were supposed to call Cheri so she could be part of the wedding. She’s going to be upset with me…
” I say, and my hand starts to slide through my hair, but I stop when I remember it’s pinned up with a zillion bobby pins and white flowers that will probably take me an hour to remove.
“You can call her later. Did the girls take a photo of you before you left for the wedding?”
They did! I’d totally forgotten. Emma took a couple of photos on my phone before we headed to the courthouse.
“Yes! I’ll send her one. Hopefully, she doesn’t kick my ass when she sees me next.
Especially since Cheri packed this dress for me.
You need to thank her. She’s the reason I look like this today. ”
Sending a photo isn’t the best option, but it should appease her a little—fingers crossed. Two days ago, my life wasn’t so fucking complicated.
“How about we take one together, before I undress you?” Andrew asks, reaching into his suit jacket for his phone.
“Really? You’d do that?” Holy shit. I sound like an excited teenager being asked on her first date. My sass must be epic when Andrew’s eyebrows rise into his hairline.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me, little bit?”
“Nope,” I answer quickly. He’s mentioned repercussions I can only imagine, and I’m not quite ready to test those waters yet.
“Sure looked like it to me,” he replies, his voice in full-on Daddy mode.
“It was at myself for getting so excited about a photo. I was acting childish. Being ridiculous, especially at my age.”
“What did I say about talking badly about yourself? You can act however you want around me. I don’t want you to hide any part of yourself from me. You’re safe with me, and I’ll remind you every hour of every day for the rest of our lives, if that’s what it takes for you to believe me.”
I want to believe him—I truly do—but it’s hard to break twenty-six years of learned behavior.
“Let’s use the bookcase as a backdrop. I’d prefer to keep our little love nest private,” he says as he leads me to the side of the room with his books.
“Love nest, huh?” I snicker.
He huffs, smacks my butt, then turns me into his side. Before I can complain about the spank, he tips the phone toward us and says, “Smile, baby. Say Daddy.”
Oh no, he didn’t. Fuck. My jaw drops, and the asshat actually takes the damn picture. “You need to delete that one,” I beg, reaching for his phone to do it myself.
Andrew chuckles as he holds it so far above my head, I need a stepladder to get to his hand. “Nope, not happening. It’ll be a precious memory. Are you ready to smile this time?” Then the fucker freaking winks. He hasn’t shown a playful side before, and I love it—kind of.
“Yeah, just warn me next time.”
Andrew quirks an eyebrow at me, then shakes his head. “Ready, baby?”
I answer with a nod, keeping my jaw firmly in place. As he positions his phone to get us both perfectly centered in the frame, we both smile.
“The picture looks great, we look happy. In love. This is crazy,” I whisper to myself. He hears me because, of course, he does.
“Jaclyn, look at me,” he demands as he tips my chin with his fingers until our eyes meet.
“We are happy and in love, even if you’re not ready to admit it yet.
From this day forward, I will do everything to ensure you’re happy and feel loved for as long as we live. Do you hear what I’m saying, baby?”
Drowning in his deep blue gaze, I whisper, “I hear you.”
“Good. Let me know if you need a reminder, and I’ll be happy to oblige.”
I expect to see amusement shining in his eyes, but all I see is truth. This man is tearing down my walls one brick at a time and showing me no mercy. But I find, I don’t give a damn.
I slide my hands up his defined chest and tug on his ponytail. “Are you going to fuck me now?”
“No, I’m not.” His mouth hovers above mine. As he speaks, his breath teases my lips.
“You’re not?” I sound whiny even to myself.
“No, want to know what I am going to do?” he says, then bites my lower lip, but not hard enough to hurt.
“Yes.” My words are barely more than a sigh.
“First, we need to discuss a few things.” His expression is serious to begin with, but then he smirks. I swear it sends a wave of heat straight to my pussy, my desire soaking the lacy thong I put on earlier to avoid panty lines under my silk dress.
“Now? Can’t it be sex now, talk later?” I even try to do one of the pouts that seem to happen in all the books.
“Cute, but that won’t work with me. Do you remember your safe word?”
I nod, but remember he’s in Daddy mode and will want my words. “Yes. It’s zucchini.”
“Perfect. And what do you say if you want to slow down?”
“Yellow, or if I can’t use my mouth, I tap on you three times, right?”
“Good girl, that’s exactly right.”
I’m not preening, you’re preening. Why does it make my knees weak when he says that?
“Baby, I need to know you’ll use your words if you need to stop or are scared and need to slow down.
It’s my job to take care of you, but I can’t if I don’t know what’s going on inside that head of yours.
You hate to ask for help, and I’m worried you won’t tell me if you’re uncomfortable or hurting because of how I’ll react.
But I’m telling you right now, I will never get angry with you for telling me how you feel or asking for what you need.
I’m not promising you’ll get it, but I will always want to know. Can you promise me?”
“Yes, Daddy.” He’s right, I hate admitting weakness or asking for help, but I also realize if I’m not honest with him, it could do irrevocable damage to our relationship. “I promise, pinky swear.” I lift my hand with my pinky extended.
A pinky swear is sacred. I don’t care if you’re six or sixty-five; no one breaks a pinky swear.
His smile is like sunshine in the middle of a storm. I still can’t believe something is going right in my life. Then he twists his pinky with mine.
“Thank you, baby. I can’t even explain how deeply I feel for you, but I promise to be the best husband I can.”
Tears prick behind my eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever been this weepy in my life, but I guess the last day, actually ever since I sent that email, has been a lot. Or maybe I’m just hormonal.
“Can we have sex now?” I ask hopefully. He said we had to talk, and we did. Now it’s time for the fun stuff. So, the last thing I expect is to be picked up and carried into the bathroom, putting me down in front of the toilet. “Before we get started, I thought you might need to pee.”
As soon as he mentions it, my bladder makes its needs known, but he’s still standing there, waiting. “You can leave now,” I say, trying not to do a potty dance, I haven’t since I was five.
“Nothing is off limits, little bit. You’re mine. Every. Single. Thing,” he growls, in the voice that makes me want to drop to my knees and do whatever he asks. But if I don’t pee soon, there’s going to be a mess on the floor. Not exactly how I want to start married life.
“Please, I have to go. Just give me a little privacy,” I whine.
He’s searching my face for something. No clue what it is, but I need him to get out now. “Since we haven’t talked about limits or rules, I’ll agree—this time.”