Chapter Nineteen I Get To Love You ~Saturday Before Christmas~
I Get To Love You
Saturday Before Christmas
Joseph
MY HEART IS POUNDING, THUNDERING LIKE a champion racehorse at the starting gate, biting at the bit for the race to begin.
It’s been two years, four weeks, three days, and seventeen hours since I first laid eyes on Samantha Lilian Cavanagh.
It was the Friday before Thanksgiving, my family out of town for the holiday.
I took the standing offer from my then-roommate, Jace, to spend the holiday with his family.
I’d met his parents before, many times, in fact.
But the illustrious Samantha was known to me only through Jace’s words and actions when he talked to her or about her.
Even then, she stood out in my mind as someone important.
Important enough to be spoken of in awe by a man who chased women like a stud working for his next meal.
Jace revered his sister, and though his actions didn’t always equal his love for her, it was obvious, even to me, that she was the most important person in his life.
He wasn’t wrong.
As soon as I saw her, my heart flipped. My jaw clenched.
My cock sprang to life—but so did my soul.
It’s as if it recognized its other half, yawned and stretched from a long slumber, and jumped to attention.
She was it. The one I had unknowingly been searching for, bettering myself for, making a future for.
She. Was. It.
My. Future.
My. Everything.
Now, I stand at the front of the church, my brothers next to me.
Fin as my best man and Matt standing next to him.
Margot as maid of honor stands across from Fin, who might possibly be his other half by the way he’s staring at her.
I want to scream at him that this is my fucking day—pay attention.
But I don’t have it in me, and it would be pointless if he feels even a miniscule amount for Margot what I feel for Samantha—it’s a lost cause.
He couldn’t change his focus even if he tried. He’s a goner.
The wedding march pipes through the biggest damn organ I’ve ever seen.
The center doors at the back of the church open—and there—standing next to Jace—is my girl.
My breath catches, and I have to fist my hands to keep from running to her.
I told her I’d always come after her, but this once, I have to let her come to me. This one time.
She’s all in white, her shoulders bare, her veil perched on her head like a crown, cascading around her as she walks, arm in arm with her brother—to me. Her dress hugs her curves like my body wants to do, flares at the bottom, and trails behind her.
Her face, dear lord help me, that face. Angelic and innocent, blue eyes I want to swim in, pouty lips I want to devour, bone structure I’d want as my muse if I was any kind of an artistic fuck.
And that silken mane of auburn hair, curled and flowing around her, making my fingers twitch to sink in and hold on tightly, while I set those abundant breasts free from their confinement.
Holy fuck, I’ve got a hard-on the size of Texas for my girl.
Movement to Samantha’s right has me meeting Jace’s gaze. His brow is hooked with a smart-ass grin on his face. You’re a fucking pussy, I hear his voice in my head.
Yeah, I am. And only for her.
They stop next to me, Jace impeding me from taking hold of my girl. The minister asks, “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”
With a smile and dancing eyes, Jace looks at Samantha and then me. “I do.” He then places her hand in mine and steps back. He grips my elbow. “She’s all yours, brother. Be good to her.” His eyes shine with tears.
I swallow around the lump in my throat. “Like my life depends on it, brother.”
He nods, pats my back, kisses her cheek, and takes a seat.
Finally. I step closer, taking her in, that lump in my throat trying to steal my voice, but I manage to say, “You look beautiful, Sweetness.”
Her face lights up like she thought I might possibly think otherwise. “You look like pure heaven.”
I lean in to kiss her cheek, but she turns, facing me.
“Kiss me, Caveman.” She tips her chin to me. “It’s the last kiss you’ll ever get as a single man.”
Fuck me. Is it against protocol? I shrug at the minister and do as my soon-to-be wife requests and kiss the hell out of her.
Clapping and catcalls erupt. The minister clears his throat, but I don’t give a shit.
This is a very important kiss, nearly as important as the one right after he pronounces us man and wife.
This is my final goodbye to all that came before her, all that happened before this day, any doubts and fears she has for our future—I need to kiss out of her.
And kiss out of her. And kiss out of her.
I pull away with a wicked grin. “That was your final kiss as a single woman.”
She blinks, trying to catch her breath, and wipes at her lipstick—which must be magic as it didn’t smear—and smiles. “I don’t need any other kisses as I’ve only ever had yours. Single, married, pregnant, young, old, they’re all yours.”
Fuck. Me.
I’m the luckiest damn man around. I take her arm in mine and turn to the man of the cloth, who’s watching us with brazen surprise. “You need to make this woman my wife, like yesterday,” I command.
He simply smiles and begins…
Samantha
“I Get To Love You” plays through the ballroom speakers. Our friends and family surround us, but I only see my man—my husband—turning me on the dancefloor like Fred Astaire for our first dance.
Did I envision this day? Did I dream of my wedding as so many little girls do?
No, I never did have that wedding fantasy of finding my prince in shining armor or being whisked away to his castle where we live happily ever after.
I didn’t have once up on a time kind of thoughts as a kid.
I was never your average girl—I suppose I’m still not.
I’d rather code than shop. I’d rather see a sci-fi movie than a romantic comedy.
And I’d rather fall in love with one man—and only one man—than play the field, notching my belt with romantic dalliances before I found the one, or Mr. Good Enough.
I’m lucky. I know. I’ve hit the romantic jackpot. A jackpot I wasn’t even looking for, longing for, or even knew was possible until Joseph Patrick McIntyre came into my life like a storm, turning it upside down and sweeping me off my feet.
“Do you take this woman to be your wife?” The minister asked Joseph.
“I do,” he replied with tears in his eyes.
“Do you take this man to be your husband?”
“I do.” I really, really do.
When the minister pronounced us “husband and wife” and told Joseph, “You may kiss your bride, again,” everyone laughed, except Joseph and me.
The intensity of his stare, the need in his eyes, and the possessiveness of his embrace left no room for anything other than my love for this man—my husband.
He kissed me like a new beginning, a breath of fresh air, a promise of happily ever afters, and a lifetime of hot, delicious sex.
How can this be? How can I have come so far in two years and still feel like the same determined, ambitious girl who saw stars in her eyes, computers in her future, and didn’t dare to dream that the VP of Product and Technology at McIntyre Corporate Industries would even know who I was, much less want a future with me?
“Mrs. McIntyre, I believe it’s time to cut the cake.” My dreamy Mr. McIntyre draws my thoughts back to our reception and our duties as the bride and groom.
I take his proffered hand, my smile blazing a path across my lips. I can’t believe I’m his wife. “Husband, I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing you call me that. Though, I do so love Sweetness, Sweets, and baby. I hope you won’t retire those.”
He stops and pulls me close, our hands joined at my side. The back of his fingers caresses my cheek. “I have no intention of retiring any of those, Sweetness. I’m simply adding Mrs. McIntyre and wife into the mix. I believe my repertoire of lovenames is now complete.”
“Hmm, and which one will you get tattooed on your cock?” I whisper.
His devious smirk has me blushing. “I’ve got it all planned. When I’m not hard and ready to fuck you senseless, it will simply say Sam’s.” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “But when I’m hard as steel and aching for you, it will say Samantha Lilian McIntyre’s.”
I snort on a laugh. “Oh God, I walked right into that, didn’t I?”
He leans close and whispers into my ear as his erection pokes me in the stomach. “I need to bury myself inside my wife—soon. I’ve been hard since I saw you walking down the aisle.”
“Joseph,” I groan, my head falling to his chest. “You sure know how to wind a girl up.”
His chest rumbles with a laugh. “Come on, Sweets. Let’s eat some cake. We’ve only got an hour before we leave for the airport.”
“Really?”
His emerald eyes flare. “It might not be what you want, but our first time as husband and wife will be a mid-air collision. I can’t survive hours until we make it to our destination.”
“You’re not teasing me.” Please, can’t we leave now? I really want to ask.
“Mrs. McIntyre, I would never tease about a thing like that. Soon, Sweetness.” His succulent lips take mine for too short a ride before he pulls away, leading me to cut our cake.
We transition from cutting the cake to bouquet and garter toss.
Margot catches my bouquet, and Fin catches the garter.
Now if that’s not a telling sign, I don’t know what is.
They’re still keeping their relationship a secret, but they do manage a dance or two beyond the wedding party’s obligatory ones.
Love is in the air, and I pray they get sucked in deeply, endlessly, and most definitely happily.
I don’t bother with changing. Whatever I wear will only end up on the bedroom floor of MCI’s corporate jet anyway. So, what’s the point? I’ll change on the plane, that is if I can manage after hours of mindless sex with my husband.
My husband. How long will it take before the novelty wears off?
Never.
Like my love for Joseph. It’s endless. Timeless. Immeasurable. And steadfast. The latter sealed and made true by his unfathomable faith in me. He says I’m enough for him.
And.
I.
Finally
Believe.
It’s.
True.