Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
“It doesn’t look like history to me,” I muse, dipping to scoop Ava up, hoping that’ll get us out of here quicker than Ava’s feet seem to want to carry her.
But then I hear something, and I still, half bent, listening. Oh no.
Now? The DJ chooses now?
“Hello, Justin,” Ava says as I straighten up to full height. The beat starts to sink into my body. Fuck, she’s tired.
Tell your body that, Ward.
Lovestoned has always been a favorite, but since the night when I looked into Ava’s eyes on that dance floor and saw what I knew was love, and then she told me—drunk or not—it’s the favorite. And as I look at her now—now that she’s my wife—I just know it’s hers too.
And I must dance with her.
Must.
Relive that night and smile because look where we are now. Married. Joined. Never to be separated. Let’s finish the day on a high.
I fix my crumpled suit, my shoulders jigging. “Oh, Mrs. Ward,” I muse, seeing some life trickle back into her at the prospect of her husband showing the world how to dance. “I’m about to tear that floor up.” I pull her back onto the dance floor and put us in the center, removing my jacket and tossing it aside as Ava laughs. That sight alone, her face, her happiness, is enough for me to keep her up for a little longer. Justin is just a bonus.
This is how she will remember our day.
“Woohoo!” Kate yells, the change in direction of music seeming to sober her up and make her smile. Her arms go up in the air, Sam laughs, and I check Dan’s whereabout discreetly, seeing him still on the edge of the dance floor, but now Joseph is with him. Talking some sense into him?
I refocus on Ava, happy to see her awake, and move in, crouching to get her closer. “Ready to reenact one of my favorite nights with you?” I ask, dotting kisses all over her face in time to the music, feeling my groin grind into her.
“My mother’s watching,” she says around a grin.
“And?” I take her hand and twirl her, watching her beautiful wedding gown fan, before pulling her back into my chest.
“And she might keel over if she sees you dry-humping me on the dance floor.”
I laugh. “My amazing dancing will distract her.” I spin her again and smile at the sound of her laugh filling my ears.
She crashes back into me. “Then she’s in for a treat.”
My eyebrows rise. “And you?”
She lifts up on her toes and nibbles at my chin. “I think I need reminding that my husband has talents outside of the bedroom.”
I’m laughing again, my head falling back, giving her access to my neck. “Fucking hell, woman,” I say, dropping my eyes and pushing my lips to her forehead. “I fucking love you.”
“I know. Now dance with me.”
So I give her what she wants and hope it redeems me for making too many bad decisions on her big day. I’d wanted to make our wedding unforgettable—and possibly have for the wrong reasons—but I am Jesse Ward, after all. A fucked-up arsehole who somehow managed to get the most beautiful, special woman in the world to marry me.
6
“We need to consummate our vows,” she says sleepily when I’ve finally got her upstairs.
Who is she trying to kid? She’s good for nothing, as proven when she requested me to carry her, out of necessity rather than simply because she loves me carrying her everywhere. I mean, I’m tempted, always tempted, but as I’ve explained to her endlessly, I’d prefer complete cognizance when we’re intimate. “Baby,” I say softly, appeasing her. “You’re too tired. We’ll consummate in the morning.” And every other morning for the rest of our lives together. I encourage her from my chest and look down at her sleepy face. Yes, she’s knackered. God love her.
She relents, falling forward, back into my chest. I don’t let her, just wanting to look at her this closely for a while, take in every inch of her, not that I need my mind refreshing. Just . . . well, I could look at her continuously, especially when she looks so peaceful. “What?” she asks.
“Tell me you love me.”
“I love you.”
“Tell me—”
“I need you.”
“You’ll never know how happy that makes me,” I say around a smile.
“I do know,” she counters as I drop a light kiss on her bare lips.
“I want you naked and spread all over me.” Snuggles. “Let me get this dress off.” It’s almost a crime to remove it from her body since it’s obviously been made for her. But . . . . naked.
When I’ve turned her in my arms, her chin drops to her chest and my eyes cross at the number of buttons that greet me, all tiny, all very close together. I frown at my fingers. This is going to be fiddly. I make a start, struggling with the first one, but once I have a few undone, it becomes easier. “What’s happening with your brother and Kate?” I ask quietly. Like I said to Kate, I don’t want Sam to be messed around. It’s taken a lot for him to admit he’s catching feelings, albeit in his own weird way.