Chapter 26
Michael
I couldn’t stop looking at her.
Grace Mathews, now Baron.
My wife.
The words reverberated through me. My wife. Grace and I were legitimately, legally married in the eyes of the law and anyone else who cared to look.
The whole wedding had felt surreal, almost like a dream, though I’d known it was very much reality. Grace’s presence next to me, the sound of her soft voice saying those all-important words, the feel of her hand in mine, the cool metal as she’d slid the ring on my finger, and I’d slid her rings on hers.
And the surprise and pleasure in her eyes when she saw the ring I’d added to the plain platinum wedding bands we’d agreed on.
The ring had a deep pink tourmaline center stone surrounded by smaller stones of rich purple-blue alexandrite, a combination of her birthstone and mine. Mercy spotted it at the jewelers when she’d gone to pick up the rings for us and had sent me an image of it. The second I’d seen it I’d told her to get it. The symbolism of my birthstone surrounding Grace’s struck a chord with me and I hoped, in some way, it would for Grace as well.
She’d looked at it a hundred times from the moment I’d put it on her hand up until now as we sat surrounded by my family and our friends at Brothers Pub.
I knew because as much as she looked at the ring, I looked at her.
I tore my eyes away from her as Jamey’s hand landed on my shoulder. He’d reserved us a few tables in one corner of the pub and set us all up with some appetizers and drinks. Jo and Ellie had even surprised us with a small two-tier wedding cake, which sat center stage on one of the tables waiting to be cut and served.
It was enough that anyone observing would have no doubt that this was a wedding celebration and who the happy couple was.
“I know the circumstances aren’t ideal,” Jamey said, his voice pitched low so only I could hear him, “but you look plenty happy to be the groom.”
“I am.” My gaze slipped to Grace again. She was so damn pretty as she talked and laughed with Mercy and Jo. “I want to try to make this work.”
To my surprise, Jamey just nodded.
“Not surprised at all that I’m thinking long-term?”
“When you’ve been thinking long-term about that woman since about three seconds after you met her?” Jamey shot me a grin as he turned to leave. “No, not surprised.”
It was an exaggeration but not by much. Something about Grace had tugged at me from the first time I’d met her, when Jamey had introduced her to me as a new addition to our kitchen staff.
It wasn’t until she’d disappeared weeks later that I’d realized the extent to which she’d taken up residence in my heart. But what Jamey said was fair. Even from the very beginning, Grace captured my attention.
Like she did now as she walked toward me, her eyes shining.
“Do you think it’s okay if we cut the cake? It seems like everybody’s here from what Jamey said.”
I looked at the group, some sitting, some standing, everyone talking and mingling and having a good time. My family, of course – Mercy, Ace, Ry, and Levi – and my friends who were the next closest thing – Jamey and his girlfriend, Meg; Kendrick and Jo; Cal and Ellie, and Dante and Dev and their wives, Mia and Holly. My parents had sent their best wishes from New Zealand, where my mom was on a year-long teaching assignment.
“It’s your day, Gracie. I’d say you can do whatever you want to.”
She reached out and nudged me gently, her grin echoing mine. “It’s our day,” she corrected. “Let’s have cake.”
“Okay by me. I also think I should kiss you.”
She’d started to turn, but that stopped her. “You...?”
I bent my head a little so I could speak directly in her ear. “I think I should kiss you. We haven’t kissed since Vaughn said we could back at Levi’s.” Even that had been just the barest brush of our lips. “You’d expect a happily just-married couple to kiss at their wedding celebration, right?” My family and friends knew the gist of the situation, even if some didn’t know the details, but anyone else watching...
“I would.” Grace’s gaze slipped to my mouth. “At least a little one. Maybe not a kiss kiss, but I mean” ...Grace lifted her eyes to mine... “yes, I’d expect that.”
I rested my hand on her waist, pulled her a tiny bit closer, and dipped my head to press my lips to hers. I kept it soft and sweet – not a kiss kiss, as Grace had said – and drew back before I wanted to.
Just to have Grace lift up on her toes a little, rest her hand against my chest, and return my kiss in kind.
If she felt the way my heart pounded under her hand, she gave no indication.
“Ready for cake?” I needed a distraction before I dragged her in the back and kissed her like I wanted to.
“Ready.” She took me by the hand and tugged me toward the table where the cake sat. “Come on, husband. Help me do the honors.”
––––––––
G RACE GIGGLED AS I carried her up the stairs to our apartment, sounding cute, and happy, and above all, tipsy.
After we’d cut the cake, Kendrick had popped open several bottles of champagne. It wasn’t my thing and other than drinking to Kendrick’s toast to “the newlyweds” I’d left it for the others, including Grace.
“You don’t have to carry me, Michael. I can walk.” She tunneled her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck, sending a shaft of heat streaking straight through me.
An armful of soft, sweet, slightly buzzed Grace was hard enough to resist without her doing one of the things that was my own personal kryptonite. There were a couple other things she hadn’t discovered yet, thank God. If she ever did, I was a goner.
Not that she was setting me on fire on purpose.
“Of course I’m carrying you,” I answered in an attempt to drag my mind back to where it needed to be. “It’s tradition. I’m carrying you over the threshold.”
There were other time-honored wedding night traditions I’d love to indulge in, not that we were going to. Even if the reality of our situation didn’t stand between us, I’d never take advantage of Grace – or any woman – that way.
Certain parts of my body weren’t necessarily getting the memo, but that didn’t mean I had to – or would – follow through.
I carried Grace inside our apartment, kicked the door closed behind us, then set her on her feet. She looked up at me, blinking like a little owl, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“What?” She smiled back at me.
“It seems like the champagne is catching up with you a little bit.”
She tilted her head, considering. “Maybe. I think you’re right.” She sighed. “We should probably go to bed.”
I wished she meant that as an invitation. Even if she did, tonight wasn’t the night.
“Why don’t you go get changed and I’ll bring you some water and aspirin?”
Grace headed to her room as I went into the kitchen to run her a glass of water and grab the bottle of aspirin from the cabinet.
Grace’s bedroom door was wide open when I reached it. I walked in to find her struggling to unzip her dress. She’d taken the clip and pins out of her hair, and she was having a hard time holding it out of the way with one hand while working the zipper with the other.
“I need help,” she said, turning her back to me.
I set the glass and aspirin bottle on her bedside table, then walked over to stand behind her. While she held her hair out of the way, I clasped the tiny zipper pull and carefully lowered it about halfway down her back.
“Will that do it?” God, I hoped so.
She glanced over her shoulder trying to see the dress. “Can you just unzip it all the way? That would help a lot.”
I took a breath, clasped the zipper again, and lowered it the rest of the way, thankful that the edges stayed close together, so I didn’t get a glimpse of...
The breath clogged in my lungs and my heart slammed to a stop as Grace pushed the dress off her shoulders, let it fall in a heap around her feet, and stepped free.
Giving me a spectacular view as she walked away from me toward the bathroom, her hair tumbling in waves down her back and her sweet little ass showcased to perfection in a tiny white thong.
Thank God I hadn’t known all day that that’s what she had on under her dress. I doubt I would have even been able to say my vows if I had.
“I’ll be right back,” she said over her shoulder, jolting me into action. I turned my head away, resisting the need to watch her, and picked her dress up off the floor. Not sure what she’d want to do with it, I put it on a hanger and hung it on her closet door where she’d see it.
I was standing wondering what to do next when she walked back into the room and every bit of blood still left in my brain and upper body headed south.
She still had on the thong – which was made of white lace I could now see from the front – now paired with a thin white tank top that fit her like a second skin, with just the faintest shadow of her nipples showing through. She’d scrubbed her face clean and gathered her hair into a loose braid that lay across one shoulder.
She was the picture of temptation and I felt myself getting weaker by the second. My entire body went rigid when she came to stand in front of me, once again turning her back to me and holding her braid out of the way.
“I couldn’t work the clasp on the necklace. I don’t want to break it.”
I forced my attention to the necklace as fantasies of pulling her close, slipping one hand up and under her tank top and the other down the front of her thong while running my teeth along the creamy white skin of her neck and shoulder swamped me.
Careful to touch only the necklace, and not stroke my fingertips across her silky skin, I undid the clasp and lifted the necklace away.
Utterly unaware of the effect she was having on me, she crossed to her bed, climbed in, pulled the comforter up to her midsection, then patted the space next to her.
It wasn’t enough room for me to climb in with her, so I took it as a request for me to sit next to her. Not that I was about to do that.
As a concession, I walked over to her and handed her the water and a couple aspirin tablets. Though I fought against it, my eyes drifted to the outline of her breasts in that damn tank top. She caught me, looking down at it before looking up at me.
“Is this okay to wear?” she asked, sounding innocent as a child. “I’ve been wearing a t-shirt, but I used to wear tank tops a lot and I grabbed this so...”
“It’s fine.” I sounded choked, hoarse. I cleared my throat and tried again. “It’s fine. Whatever you want to wear is fine.”
“What do you wear?”
“What do...” Holy shit, this was torture. Trying to think, talk, with Grace less than a foot away, in bed, half naked.
If I’d done something in a previous life to deserve this punishment, whatever it was must have sucked.
I blew out a breath and focused on the ceiling, trying to force my bloodless brain to work.
“To bed, I mean. What do you sleep in?”
“I...uh.” I scrubbed my hand over my head. “A t-shirt and gym shorts. You’ve seen me lots of times.”
“I know that’s what you wear around, like when you’re in the kitchen or living room or whatever, but I thought maybe you wear something else when you sleep.”
The answer was nothing.
Was that what she wanted to hear? That typically, when no one was staying with me, I slept naked?
Was that what she was hinting at?
My dick twitched at the thought of Grace picturing me that way. If I was wearing the gym shorts I normally did around the apartment right then, she’d have no doubt of my reaction to this conversation.
“Uh...no, that’s it.” For now. If a miracle happened and I got Grace in my bed, that would change.
“Oh. Okay.” Did she sound disappointed? “I think maybe I should go to sleep.”
Yes. Sleep. Good.
I took a step back. “If you need anything during the night, wake me up. Sweet dreams.”
I heard her slide deeper into the covers as I crossed to the door. I flipped the light off and was closing the door behind me when her soft words stopped me.
“Thanks for being my husband.”
I rested my forehead against the doorframe, wondering for the first time what the hell we’d gotten ourselves into.
“It’s an honor, Gracie. Thanks for being my wife.” I lifted my head and stepped into the hallway. “Good night.”
Then I closed the door, her sweet “good night” in my ears, and crossed the apartment to go to my own bed alone.