“What can I do to convince you?”
“Hmm…you can start by ordering us the biggest pizza in the history of the world.”
I drop my mouth to her skin. “I can do that.”
“And tell me one more time. You’re falling in love with me?”
“Yes.” I look up directly into her eyes. “I’m falling in love with you.”
The way she’s looking at me, I want to see that look forever. A mix of awe and happiness. She reaches out and brushes her hands through my hair. Draws those same fingers down my cheek.
I smile. “What do you say? Will you stay my wife?”
She laughs, her eyes filling with tears. “I’ll stay your wife.”
Pinning her more firmly to the bed, I kiss her hard. Now that she’s mine, I’m never letting her go.
Epilogue
Rose
One Year Later
I’m so nervous that I could throw up, though I don’t pretend to know why. This, of all things, shouldn’t scare me. Asher and I have been married a year. One glorious, amazing whirlwind of a year. So why on earth does wearing a wedding dress make me feel like I’m about to fall through space with no landing point?
This was our choice, but that doesn’t stop the swarm of butterflies swirling in my stomach or the way my breath is coming in shallow gasps.
All those people out there…
Our friends and family are here at Blue Mountain to celebrate the wedding that we never had. We even called Edward to come back and officiate, as a way of coming full circle. I’m going to walk down that aisle, speak the vows that I wrote, let Asher put his ring on my finger. Again.
Leo and Diana are waiting for us, bridesmaid and groomsman, and more in love than ever. I think they even give Asher and me a run for our money in terms of purely unbearable displays of affection. Poor Hudson.
This is so much more nerve-racking than walking the aisle at graduation. Though my husband made such a big deal about that and threw me such a big party that I still blush thinking about it. Especially when the best part of that celebration was what happened after we left.
I look in the mirror again, taking in the silk and the lace that slips off my shoulders, the long veil down my back. It feels…a little unreal.
Most people don’t marry their husband before they know them completely. But then again, Asher’s and my relationship has never been strictly conventional. And every minute of this year—getting to know him, loving him, and letting him love me. I have to place a hand on my stomach at the sudden swirl of emotion.
Every second has been exhilarating.
I laugh to myself. If my father hadn’t decided to be a prick who wanted to scam people, I never would have met the love of my life. He isn’t out there. His schemes caught up with them and now he sits in a jail cell where he’ll be for a long time.
Good riddance. I don’t miss him.
The photographer that we hired is just out of sight, giving the illusion of privacy. She’s going to snap pictures when Asher sees my dress for the first time. Just him and me. Privately. My heart pounds in my chest as I hear the door open behind me, and I turn to face my husband.
The look on his face—I’ll never forget it.
Asher’s eyes utterly consume me, crawling up and down my body and marking the way this dress clings to my curve. The demure shape that hints at what’s beneath. Exactly the kind of thing that he loves. That drives him mad.
I didn’t expect the emotion that I see from him. “Rose.”
“Hi,” I say a little breathlessly.
He walks to me slowly, not taking his eyes off me for a second. “You look…stunning.”
“So do you.”
His tuxedo is tailored exactly for his body, emphasizing his broad shoulders and narrow hips, not doing nearly a good enough job concealing the fucking exquisite body that he’s hiding underneath it.
Asher wraps his arm around me, kissing me gently. “Careful of the makeup,” I manage to whisper.
“Fuck the makeup. It can be reapplied.”
I only have seconds to wonder where the photographer is before I’m completely swept away. My husband can kiss. He dips me back, hands sliding down my body at the same time that he’s holding me up. He’s right. Fuck the makeup. That can be fixed.
I moan softly when I feel him against me. Hard through his tuxedo. “You’re happy to see me?” I ask.
He chuckles, dropping kisses along my neck and shoulder. “You know that I get hard every time I’m within three feet of you. Of course I’m happy to see you.”
Asher isn’t lying. In the year we’ve spent together, the explosive chemistry between us hasn’t faded. Images flicker through my mind. My husband dragging me away from homework to ravish me when I was exhausted from studying. Or trying to focus despite him spreading my legs under the table where I studied and not letting me come until I finished reading, even with his tongue deep inside me.