Chapter 11
Alana
Lorne pulls into my Branwen Beach house's driveway, and I come running out with a suitcase in hand.
"Wait," he says, stepping out of his truck. "I thought we were staying here?"
"Nope," I say, tossing my suitcase into my car's trunk. "Give me your bag, mister. I'm taking you on a surprise trip."
Laughing, Lorne transfers his suitcase into my car, locks his truck, and climbs into the passenger seat. "Where are you taking me?"
"You'll see."
Grinning to myself, I look over at the love of my life, smiling like a fool in front of the National Steinbeck Center.
"I've always meant to come here and do the whole Steinbeck itinerary," Lorne says, shaking his head.
"Well, now you get to do it," I say, looping my arm into the crook of his elbow.
We take the multisensory tour, and my favorite part includes clips from Steinbeck movies. I love me some James Dean. For a late lunch, we stop at the Steinbeck House, where the author and his younger sisters grew up.
On Saturday, we spend the morning driving around Salinas. Lorne and I stop at Jack's Peak Park, which has sweeping vistas of the Salinas Valley and Monterey Bay.
Before dinner, we head over to Lovers Point in Pacific Grove to watch the sunset.
Hand-in-hand, the two of us walk in comfortable silence as we enjoy nature's beauty.
I have a sudden urge that has been mingling in my mind the last couple weeks since we admitted our true feelings for each other, and I stop dead in my tracks, turning to my handsome mountain man.
"You okay?" Lorne asks.
"I'm better than okay," I say, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him close. "Lorne, I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
The smile on his face tells me I said exactly the right thing. "I would love to spend the rest of my life with you, Alana," he says, looking down at me with fire behind his blue eyes.
Pressing my chin against his firm chest while looking up into his smoldering gaze, I say, "Will you marry me, Lorne Morrison?"
"Hell, yes. I'll marry you," he says, lifting me in his arms and pressing his bearded mouth against mine.
The spring equinox sun warms us as we stand in the intimate garden at Hemingway House in Key West. Lorne and I didn't want to wait to marry or deal with actually planning a big wedding; instead, we eloped here.
The lush tropical garden surrounds us with towering palms and historic coral rock pathways, creating a romantic backdrop.
Hemingway's legendary six-toed cats roam freely as the officiant marries us.
I could not have picked a more perfect setting to marry my mountain man professor.
The 1850s Spanish colonial mansion provides a gorgeous backdrop as we say our I do's.
A gentle breeze carries the scent of jasmine and salt air as we exchange rings.
Lorne's hands shake slightly as he slides the simple gold band onto my finger, his blue eyes bright with unshed tears.
I can barely contain my own emotions as I repeat the vows we wrote on the plane here, promising to love him through every season and storm.
When the officiant pronounces us husband and wife, Lorne cups my face in his rough hands and kisses me with such tenderness that my knees nearly buckle. One of Hemingway's cats winds around our feet, purring loudly as if offering its own blessing to our union.
My husband and I sign the marriage certificate under the shade of a massive banyan tree, with just the officiant and a groundskeeper who was nearby serving as our witnesses.
Everything feels surreal and perfect, like we've stepped into our own private fairy tale.
This impulsive decision to elope feels so much more us than any elaborate ceremony ever could have been.
Stepping into our Hemingway suite that overlooks the Hemingway House where we were just married, Lorne begins to strip in front of me. Grinning at me with hunger in his eyes, I start tearing off my clothes as well, and soon we are collapsing onto the bed, giggling and kissing each other.
"You're so damn beautiful," he says, taking my breast into his mouth as his fingers slide down, three of them entering me with his thumb rubbing against my clit.
My husband works me like I was made only for his touch, and soon I am coming on his fingers, crying out his name.
He climbs over me, pressing my thick thighs open and slides his cock inside, filling me inch by inch.
Grabbing my wrists, he pins them above my head as he takes me, thrusting inside with an intense fervor that shoots electric sparks through every nerve ending in my body.
When Lorne climaxes, he yells out my name, with his body shuddering violently above before he collapses on top of me. I wrap my arms and legs around him, feeling his cock still pulsing inside me as we lie there.
"I love you so damn much," he mumbles into my sweaty hair.
"I love you too, baby."