Chapter 5
Five
Cami
I’m not much of a crier. Not like my sister Jenna. Or Izzy. But my eyes glisten as I walk down the aisle to Leif.
It’s terrifying and exhilarating. It’s not the wedding I imagined but right now I’m happy. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is trust your intuition.
For a long time, after Levi, I forgot how to do that. But not anymore. Not tonight.
I’m not supposed to feel this much for a man I just met. But tequila braces me with a different type of courage, and I stride toward the man looking at me like I hung the moon.
Nerves gather in the pit of my stomach. A thrill of excitement shimmies across my shoulders. When I reach his side, calmness sweeps through me.
The minister begins his speech but I’m looking into Leif’s bottomless blue eyes, free-falling.
Leif’s expression is more serious than I anticipated. He’s not cracking up or making jokes. He’s not high out of his mind and slurring. He’s holding my hand and peering into my soul.
I shiver from the intensity of his gaze and his eyebrows draw together slightly, as if concerned. I squeeze his hand to let him know I’m good.
I mean, sure, I’m a little nervous. Excited. Giddy. But in the best way possible. Leif and I clicked on a level I want to live in. A long time ago, I made bold decisions and embraced moments. Then, I became too fearful to make another misstep that I stopped savoring opportunities when they were presented.
This is one I don’t want to miss out on. I’m not fearful, I’m elated.
Truly, genuinely happy.
We say our vows with an honesty I feel deep in my bones. Our voices are clear, ringing out in the space between us with a finality that isn’t scary. It doesn’t make me feel trapped. Instead, it’s freeing. Filled with possibilities.
When it’s time to exchange rings, both sides of Leif’s mouth curl into a brilliant smile as he slides the purple crown on my finger.
We both stare in disbelief when it’s—“a perfect fit,” I breathe out, as if it confirms the success of our marriage.
I wiggle my fingers, admiring my ring.
I probably shouldn’t love the piece of plastic as much as I do but it feels like a treasure.
Then, I pull the ring I made Leif—a knock-off Rainbow Looms circle of tiny, multi-colored, plastic hair ties I had in my purse and fashioned together in the women’s bathroom—from my pocket and roll it onto his finger.
He chuckles in disbelief, his eyes shining. “You’re resourceful. I like that.”
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” the minister concludes.
Leif arches an eyebrow and shuffles closer.
My breath hitches as he bends his strong body over mine. And I bow into him, knowing he won’t break me, knowing he’ll shield me. How the hell do I know that?
Before I can figure it out, my thoughts scatter.
Because Leif kisses me, and it’s filled with awe. Reverence. A brand of something I’ve never tasted before, and I don’t want to lose.
When he pulls back, our eyes hold for a long moment. Promises are made. Commitments are created. Trust, established.
“Do you want a picture?” the minister asks, interrupting our moment.
“Hell yes,” I gush, passing him my phone.
Leif and I pose like goofballs, smiling or making silly faces for a few snaps before Leif swings me up in his arms, holds me tightly against his chest, and strides back down the aisle.
I giggle. “Are you seriously going to carry me back to the hotel?” My hotel is at least a twenty-minute walk from here.
“I am,” he declares, stepping out into the early morning. “My hotel is on this street. And I can’t wait to get you alone.” He glances down at me and grins wolfishly. “Wife.”
Wife . I shiver from that word in that tone.
At the severity of Leif’s jaw, the strength of his arms holding me up, the quickness of his stride, I know he’s experiencing the same impatient need that’s circulating in my bloodstream.
“You know, we didn’t have to get married to have sex,” I joke lightly as we enter the lobby of his hotel. I glance around quickly but no one is paying attention to us. This is hardly an interesting scene in a Vegas hotel at three in the morning.
Leif snorts and maneuvers my body weight to jab the button for the elevator. “This isn’t just sex, Cam.” His voice is low and rumbly. His eyes flash to mine. “And it’s not just for tonight.”
Oh my.
My cheeks heat, my guy grins, and the elevator—blessedly—arrives.
Everything after that is a blur.
The sound of Leif’s hotel door closing behind us. The grandeur of his hotel suite wraps around us like a cocoon as I step out of my heels and stretch my toes in the soft rug in the living room. The both of us rattling off messages to our friends that we’re fine—better than fine.
“The guys must be out or sleeping,” he mutters when no one pops their heads into the common space to say hello.
And then, Leif’s hand slips across the small of my back. I turn into his arms and wind my arms behind his neck.
“You ever been married before?” I whisper. Clearly my priorities are messed up because I should have asked him this earlier.
“Never,” he swears.
And that little thrill in my limbs grows and dances.
Leif scoops me up and relocates us into his bedroom. He closes the door behind us and peels off my shirt. I lift my arms so he can remove it, toss it on the floor behind me.
I work the buttons on his shirt and push the fabric off those strong shoulders. My fingers trail down the ridges of his abdomen—an entire freaking mountain range. “You work out a lot.”
He chuckles and pops the button on my jeans. “You have no idea.”
My eyes lift to his. “Not yet. But I’m about to find out.” I’m about to get my world flipped upside down. But from this night with Leif and all the nights that come after, with my husband.
“Yeah, you are,” he agrees. Then, his mouth is on mine, his hands squeezing my waist.
I hitch forward into his frame and let his kiss swallow me whole. I don’t want to come up for reality. Or air. I want this—all of this—with him.
Leif coaxes my body into submission like he knows it intimately. His touch unravels my senses. He kisses me in a way that absolves my past sins and makes my future beam brightly.
I’m putty in his capable hands. He tests the weight of my breasts, lowers his mouth to my nipples, and gives them more attention than any man has before. Kneading and pinching. Licking and sucking.
He removes his pants and boxers in one shot and I literally gasp at the perfection of his body.
His eyes dart to mine at the sounds that fall from my mouth but there’s no more light humor. Everything has turned serious between us.
He’s my husband. I’m his wife. And tonight is our wedding night.
There aren’t rushed touches. There’s savoring.
There’s no clashing of teeth. There’s tasting and sipping and devouring.
Leif drops to his knees at the side of the bed and tugs my legs, hooking them around his shoulders.
“Oh, God.” I grip the bedsheet in anticipation. I’m already wet for him. Hell, I think I have been since he walked onto that patio rooftop. The nerves in my body are taut, the need seeping out as arousal between my thighs.
“So fucking perfect,” Leif murmurs, dragging the pads of two fingers through my folds.
I groan at his touch. It’s more than good. It’s centering.
He does it again. And again.
His fingers drag across my sex lazily as he studies me. His eyes hold mine and the look in his—so fucking sexy and surprisingly hopeful—is a salve to years of thoughtless, careless flings and silly, pointless one-night stands.
I shift under his gaze. I squirm from his slow touch. And just when I think I can’t take anymore, he lowers his mouth and uses his tongue.
“Leif!” I cry out, tightening my thighs around his head. My hands twist the sheets.
He uses his palms to slide under my ass and lift it. He pulls me closer as his tongue begins to dance across my pussy. He’s a fucking expert. The pace, the pressure, the intensity, it’s too much.
Within seconds, my back arches off the bed. Every nerve ending I have is on fire, flames licking higher, faster, stronger and then—I combust. “Leif, oh God, Leif.” My eyes are closed, my head tossed back.
And my guy? My guy slows his ministrations and helps me ride out the most intense, powerful, all-consuming orgasm of my life. I whimper as I come down and he strokes my inner thighs, his mouth continuing to press kisses across my over-sensitized flesh.
When my thighs loosen their hold, he moves up my body like a freaking panther. Slow, steady, and focused. I open my arms, he falls into them, and the kiss we share should be fucking illegal.
“I’m clean, Cam,” he swears.
“Me too,” I promise. “And I’m on the pill.”
He nods, holding my gaze to make sure.
“I don’t want anything between us,” he says. “Not tonight. But is that what you want?”
Jesus, this man. This man and these words.
“I’m more than good with that.” I widen my legs.
He settles between them on his next kiss; he pushes inside with one thrust. I see fucking stars. Because he’s big, and so fucking hard.
“Hold on to me, baby,” he instructs.
I grip his shoulders before sliding my hands around to his back. Leif begins to rock in and out before he sets a pace that has my thighs quaking and the tendons in his neck stretching.
He’s beautiful. Glorious. I can hardly take my eyes off him.
He works me over so fucking good, I come again. And only after, does he let himself lose control. He pounds into me, shifting from sensual to downright desperate. And then, he breaks apart and it’s beautiful.
“Camille…” my full name on his lips. A shudder rolls through my limbs. The strength of his body seeps out in release, in need, in naked emotions that flit across his face. “Fuck, baby.”
He collapses onto me and rolls to his side, taking me with him. I hold his face against my chest, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. We’re still joined together and I don’t want to move. I don’t even care that his semen leaks onto my inner thighs. I don’t give a shit about the sticky mess we’re making.
I just want this.
Another moment.
Another heartbeat.
Another kiss.
At some point, I doze off. But when I wake in the morning, I do so with fucking panic.
The first thing that greets my eyes is the sexiest man I’ve ever had. Leif. And that’s saying something because women across the country would sell their eggs for a night with Levi Rousell.
But Levi’s got nothing on Leif. At least, not when I knew him—high, strung out, and on the brink of rehab.
I move to slip out from Leif’s hold so I can use the bathroom and my eyes snag on the purple glitter crown ring on my finger.
“Oh, fuck,” I mutter as the night before comes rushing back.
My head pounds and my throat feels dry enough to crack.
“I got fucking married,” I recall, my thoughts hazy.
But my body isn’t confused. It feels wonderful. Sated. Fulfilled.
Gah!
Still, I need to get the hell out of here.
Mom is going to kill me. How many times post-Levi and the pictures debacle did she warn me against getting caught up in nights like this? In morning-afters like the one I’m currently living? This is the stuff she tells me I need to think through.
But last night, I wasn’t thinking as much as I was feeling. And it felt right. It felt good.
I felt like myself again.
I pull in a deep breath and let out a long exhale. I force myself to lie perfectly still and splay my hands wide on the bedsheet. I need to think .
Last night was…magic.
I cast another look at Leif. But damn did he make me feel good. Whole. Right.
I shake my head and wince at the sudden movement.
Who am I kidding? Who the hell meets a stranger in Vegas and thinks they’re going to complete them?
My phone buzzes on the nightstand and I roll over to grab it before it can wake Leif.
Mom: Las Vegas, Cami? Are you serious?
Shit. I sigh heavily. My sister Jenna must have cracked. Knowing how relentless Mom can be, I can’t be upset with my sister.
A second later, my phone vibrates again.
Jenna: I’m so sorry! Mom was frantic to know where you were and Izzy’s lake house wasn’t cutting it as an excuse because she ran into Izzy’s mom.
Dammit.
A rush of tears burns the back of my eyes, but I don’t let them fall.
I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. Even though last night was a mistake—I married a man whose last name I don’t even fucking know in Vegas—I don’t regret anything about the time I spent, and the way I felt, with Leif. For that alone, I’m grateful. Because he reminded me that I can feel alive and cherished and enough again.
Mom continues to message and that’s my cue.
I slip from the bed, clean up, locate my clothes, and dress.
I ignore Mom’s messages and text Izzy instead.
Then, I spend a long moment staring at the beautiful man who made love to me last night. He will never know that he healed a piece of the broken inside me. For the first time in years, I truly felt like myself with a man. Not scared or doubtful, but free and confident. Bending over his frame, listening to his gentle snore, I smile and press a kiss to his temple. “Thank you, Leif.”
While I’m thanking him for the night we shared, I doubt he’ll see it that way when we need to sort out the annulment papers. But right now, I need to leave.
Slip away before he wakes up and acknowledges the crushing disappointment of marrying me last night.
I swipe up my heels, pad barefoot to the hotel door, let out an exhale, and leave Leif behind.
Then, I slide my purple ring off my finger, tuck it into my purse, and do the walk of shame back to my hotel.
Another good thing about Vegas? No one gives a shit.
After a hot shower and a quick breakfast with the girls, we’re boarding a flight back to Minnesota.
I have three messages and two phone calls from Tennessee, but I ignore them. I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do next. I’m out of my comfort zone and need to reserve my energy to face off with Mom and move to Knoxville. Plus, I’m not ready to confront a sober, awake, and disappointed Leif.
So, I turn off my phone, plop down in my seat, and force myself to fall asleep before take-off.