Rebel(44)

All the fight has gone out of me, and I can’t seem to find it again. I’ve no idea how long we dance, but I’m snapped out of the moment when there’s a bright explosion on night sky, illuminating us in reds and blues. My first thought is the Captain’s tall pirate story, but it’s only fireworks.

We look up, still standing close and swaying gently. Flash after flash lights up the deck, spraying every color imaginable into the air. The fireworks reflect in the crystal clear waters, making it seem like we’re completely surrounded. It’s magical. Something tells me that I need to remember this, because I can’t imagine a more beautiful wedding, and no matter what happens afterwards, for right now, it’s mine.

Captain Chuck comes by with fresh champagne flutes, giving us one each with a wink before returning to mingle with the other passengers. He’s got the sense to leave us alone. Gavin downs his in one long gulp and then throws the glass overboard. “We’re going upstairs.”

I open my mouth to protest, but my body betrays me. I shiver in anticipation, and when I speak it’s not the oh my God, no that I was thinking. Instead, I just say, “Okay.” Grinning mischievously, I throw my glass like he did, watching it arc through the air until it disappears into the inky blackness surrounding the ship. I giggle like I’ve just done something ridiculously naughty.

Who are you and what have you done with Angie?

With a laugh, Gavin scoops me up in his powerful arms, carrying me easily. Instead of fighting him, I nuzzle my face against his broad chest and wrap my arms around his neck. My new husband might be an asshole, but there’s still a stupid smile on my face.

The crowd cheers and claps as he carries me past them. I burst out laughing, and I can’t stop it, burying my face in the crook of his neck in embarrassment. Everyone knows where we’re heading, and why.

I’ve just gotten married to a guy who confuses, infuriates and tempts me like no other.

And it’s time for the wedding night.





Chapter 22: Angie


We burst in through the door to our suite, him carrying me over the doorstep, true to tradition. Sort of, anyway. I suppose most brides are carried over in more than a bikini, but at least it’s white. I giggle, getting a look from Gavin. The champagne’s still bubbling in my blood.

He kicks the door shut behind him, not bothering with the lights. Outside, the fireworks are still going off, throwing showers of colorful light spattering across our bedroom. I hardly notice. His eyes are locked to mine, gazing at me so intensely. My world narrows until it’s just the two of us while he carries me to the bed.

It’s going to happen. I should be scared, or angry, or at least push him away, but I don’t want to. What I want is him, at least for tonight.

He lowers me gently onto the white satin sheets, then follows until he covers me. His lips trail kisses along my shoulder and collarbone, as he pulls the flimsy wrap aside. It’s like I’m viewing myself from the outside in, watching as I give myself to him. I don’t know if the haze is alcohol or lust, but I can’t stop touching him. I explore him with my hands, running them all over his muscular back, tracing his shoulder blades with my fingertips.

I have to taste him. Running my fingers into his hair, I grip him tightly and pull him up to me until our lips touch. For the first time ever, I’m the one kissing him, savoring the flavors of champagne and dessert, and something that’s uniquely his.

Pressing against me, he forces his hips in between my legs, and even though we’re still wearing our bathing suits, I can feel his hardness against me. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this,” he says huskily.

“Shut up and kiss me, before I change my mind.” I squirm, eager to finally ease the emptiness inside me.

He chuckles softly before he leans in and kisses me roughly, claiming me with his mouth. Then he moves, leaving me gasping while he licks and nibbles his way along my jaw. I’m holding my breath, just feeling his skin against mine.

As he travels down the side of my neck toward my shoulder, he grabs my bikini top and pulls it up. My breasts pop free, and he palms one with his big hand, squeezing it and rolling my nipple between his rough fingers. I moan in response, arching against him.

His lips explore my collar bone, kissing their way onto my chest. Every touch sends a little spark arcing across my skin. Slowly, but surely he approaches the rise to my unhandled breast until he closes his mouth around the nipple.

My racing heart feels like it’s about to beat its way out of my chest while adrenaline courses through me, making me shiver so hard it almost hurts. Burying my fingers deep in his hair, I try to keep him in place when he kisses down the bottom curve of my breast, but no matter how hard I tug, he ignores me.