Epilogue
Del
Lachlan grabs my arm, hauls me against him, kneads my arse, and kisses and nips his way from my lips, down my throat, to the curve of my shoulder, and back again.
“I’m not going to last the entire wedding before I want to make love to you again,” he growls into my ear as he rolls his hips against mine. My head swims at the rigid press of his erection against my belly, and I fist my hands in his hair.
“You’ll have to,” I chide, rolling my hips back. “Patience is a virtue, right?”
“Fuck patience,” he grumbles, and kisses me again.
We come up for air a few heartbeats later when the celebrant clears their throat.
“Shit,” I mutter, glancing over my shoulder at Stevie. “We’re beginning?”
Stevie grins from behind her veil, then arches an eyebrow at Lachlan. “Take your seat, Mr. McKenzie. For the next thirty minutes, at least, Del is still mine.”
Lachlan chuckles. “Thirty minutes and counting.”
He looks into my eyes, open hunger in his, and strides away.
Just as the processional begins to play—in Stevie’s case, the Star Wars theme.
Turns out, in my part of Australia, a marriage license takes thirty days. No exceptions. Not even Lachlan scowling at the celebrant makes a dent.
Instead, we just booked the celebrant for thirty days from now.
The venue, of course, is a given.
Smiling, I strut down the aisle, heading for the altar.
Well, the strip of grass covered in scattered rose petals.
It’s flanked on either side by rows of ribbon-adorned chairs, and at the front stands an arbor made from ancient gumtree branches twined with sprays of soft wattle and white roses. No inside-a-church wedding for Stevie.
I look amazing.
My hair is a cascade of loose curls tumbling down my bare back. My dress is a shimmering silver sheath with a low back and cowl neckline that perfectly shows off how spectacular my boobs are, and how amazing my hips are.
In my hands, I carry a bouquet of wattle and roses, their delicate perfume almost but not quite rivaling the scent of Lachlan’s cologne still on my skin.
He’s watching me from where he sits just behind Jared’s family, his gaze hot on my body.
Watching me. Hungering for me.
Loving me.
The Staffords hover in the wings. I know they’re hoping he’ll sign the purchase contract after the wedding—they keep harassing him and apologizing to me—but he’s got something else in mind. A retreat in the Snowy Mountains.
Or maybe he’ll do both?
I’m learning very quickly that when it comes to Lachlan McKenzie, nothing gets in his way when he wants something.
I like that in a husband.
Reaching the arbor, I turn and find his gaze on me.
I fucking love you, he mouths.
Warmth floods through me, and I beam.
It’s Stevie and Jared’s wedding, but for me, it’s the beginning of my own happily ever after.
Whoever said love is stupid is an absolute moron.