Page 165 of Seale the Deal

Oh, come on, Audrey says. They’re cute.

Remi clicks her tongue. They should save that for when they’re home.

Which is going to be right now, I say.

Wrenley twists in my arms, blinking up at me with surprise. Now?

I spin her fully, tugging her close until her chest presses to mine. My hands rest firm on her waist. I’ve been good. I ate dinner. I danced. I cut the cake. I even made the rounds… twice. But I’ve missed you.

Her lips curve slowly and softly, a smile that melts every defense I’ve ever built. I swear I could live off that smile alone.

I’ve missed you too, she says, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip as her eyes roam over my face like she’s memorizing me.

I kiss her before I combust. The room erupts in whistles and hollers, voices carrying over the music. I wave them off, not even pretending to care. This isn’t for them. This moment has never been about them. It’s only her. Always her.

Okay, she breathes when we part, her cheeks pink. We can go home.

You haven’t thrown the bouquet yet, Remi pipes up.

Wrenley gasps. Oh, right. She lifts the handmade bouquet high in the air. Where are all my single ladies?

A few women gather, some giggling, some competitive, all eyes on her. Remi elbows her way to the front despite being adamant that marriage is blech.

One, two— Wrenley dips her knees, the picture of tradition. Then she turns on her heel at the last second, presses the bouquet straight into Remi’s hands, and hugs her tight.

The crowd cheers anyway. No one cares that she broke the rules because what they see isn’t a tradition ruined; it’s a tradition remade. A family born, not by law or blood, but by love and stubborn choice.

That’s us. That’s this whole town.

Five minutes later, we’re in my truck, and five minutes after that, we’re home, practically racing up the stairs to our room.

As soon as the door is closed, our mouths are fused, hungry and reverent all at once. Wrenley makes those soft, desperate sounds that turn my bones to ash and send heat rushing low. My body is already more than ready to claim my bride.

You look gorgeous, I murmur between kisses, tasting her smile. This dress is unreal.

She hums against my mouth, sly. You’re going to hate it in about thirty seconds.

Why?

Her lips curve into a wicked smile as she turns, and that’s when I see an endless row of tiny buttons running down her spine.

For a second, instinct tells me to tear the damn thing off her. But no. Not tonight. Tonight, I want to savour and earn every inch of her.

I let one fingertip trail slowly down the line of buttons, just beside them, tracing the length of her back. Goosebumps rise in my wake, and the sound she makes, half gasp, half sigh, almost undoes me.

Starting at the top, I work each button free, slow and deliberate. With every slip of fabric, I kiss the new skin revealed. First her nape, then her shoulder, then the soft curve where her back meets her ribs. She tilts her head back, breathless moans spilling from her lips, and I know I could spend forever right here, worshipping her piece by piece.

By the time I undo the last button, my hands are shaking. I ease the sleeves down her arms, pushing the gown until it pools at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a lacy white thong.

My brain shorts out.

Fuck.

She turns to face me, bare and beautiful, her dark nipples tightening as if begging for my mouth. I dip toward her, but she presses her palm to my chest and shakes her head, teasing.

Not until you’re as naked as I am.

I chuckle, low in my throat. Deal.