Because before we get to that, there are things that must be said. Things she deserves to hear.
My voice is a raw whisper. “Olivia, about the things I said, the night you left. I’m—”
“Forgiven.” Tears well in her eyes. “You’re completely forgiven. You had me at ‘horse’s ass.’”
And she throws herself into my arms.
I bury my face in the hollow of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin—honey and roses and her. My lips travel up across her jaw, finding her mouth, feeling the wetness of her tears against my cheek. And then our mouths are moving together, tasting and delving—wild and demanding. This is no sweet, storybook reunion . This is raw and desperate and unadulterated need. Being away from her, knowing how close I came to truly losing her, makes me rougher than I should be. My hands push through her hair, clench down her back holding her tight against me, feeling every breath that shudders through her.
And I’m not alone. She moans into me—I taste it on my tongue—her hands tugging on my hair, her legs wrapping around my waist, squeezing like she can’t get close enough. Like she’ll never let go.
And everything about it is perfect and right.
After a time, the desperation ebbs and our kisses slow—our lips turn to savoring and sucking. I feel Olivia’s soft hands stroking the planes of my face gently and her forehead comes to rest against mine. We gaze into each other’s eyes, breathing the same air.
“I love you,” she whispers, her voice trembling. And more tears fall down her cheeks. “I love you so much. I can’t…I can’t believe you gave all of that up. How could you do that?”
She’s crying harder now—and I realize she’s grieving for me. Because somehow she thinks I’ve lost something.
I set her on her feet, brush back her hair and wipe the tears from her face.
“It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. When I stood up there, in front of all those cameras, it was like when they say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re dying. I saw all the years ahead—and not one of them mattered worth a damn. Because I didn’t have you there with me. I love you, Olivia. I don’t need a kingdom—if you’re beside me, I already have the whole world.”
“That’s so beautiful.” She cries. “And really cheesy, too.”
And there…there it is—that stunning smile that hits me right in my heart.
And my cock.
She rests her head against my chest, her arms around my waist, and we stand just like that for several minutes.
Until Olivia asks, “What happens now?”
I kiss the top of her head and lean back.
“Well…I’m out of a job.” I step backward, grabbing the HELP WANTED sign from the window. “So, I was hoping the dishwashing position is still available.”
Olivia’s eyes sparkle—one of the most gorgeous fucking sights I’ve ever seen.
“Have you ever actually washed a dish?”
“Not one.” I peck her lips. “But I’m a very eager learner.”
“And what about us? What happens with us?”
“We can do anything we want. Every single day of the future is ours.”
I sit down in the chair, pulling her onto my lap. She toys with the back of my hair, thinking it over.
“I want to go to the movies with you. And to the park. Even if security has to tag along. And I want us to lie around in bed all day and order takeout.”
“And walk around the apartment naked,” I add helpfully.
Olivia nods. “All the normal things couples do when they’re dating.”
“It would be an interesting change of pace for us.”
Olivia’s fingers massage and rub at my neck. Feels amazing.
“So, we’ll take things…slow?”
I bring her head down closer, whispering just before I kiss her, “Sounds perfect. I like slow. And you are going to thoroughly enjoy how I do…slow.”
Eight months later
SLOW DIDN’T EXACTLY WORK OUT…
“I now pronounce, henceforth, that they be man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
I don’t have to be told twice.
I lift the gauzy veil trimmed with lace, cup her beautiful face in both hands, and press my mouth to Olivia’s. Reverently—at first.
Then I kiss her deeper. Hungrier. Lost in the taste and feel of my sweet new wife.
Olivia giggles against my searching mouth. Henry whistles inappropriately beside me, and Simon coughs to try to cover it. Then the church bells ring, rattling our bones, the congregation stands, and I escort Lady Olivia down the aisle. Her dress is a strapless, lace confection, cinched at her tiny waist, long in the back—the train taking up almost the entire length of the aisle, carried by half a dozen little flower girls.