“Do you, Sloan Meghan O’Neill, take Sebastian to be your husband…”
I tune out the rest of Lono’s speech and zero in on my bride, willing her to say that one magical phrase.
She draws in a choppy breath and meets my stare like she’s rattled. But she’s got fire and spine, so she pulls through. “I do.”
“And do you, Sebastian Andrew Shaw, take Sloan to be your wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward? For better or for worse? In sickness and in health? Forsaking all others until death do you part?”
I squeeze her hand again and smile into her eyes. “I do.”
We exchange rings as Lono says something about them being the symbol of unending love because they, like love itself, have no beginning and no end.
“I now pronounce you Sebastian and Sloan Shaw.” He turns to me and winks. “Here’s the part you’ve been waiting for. Kiss your bride.”
He’s right. I don’t hesitate to cup her face, lean in, and lose myself in the moment. Even over the salty tang of the ocean, I smell strawberries. Her breath is warm and sweet as I hover above her lips, savoring this moment as she clings to my arms and lets out a jagged exhalation. Then closes her eyes and gives herself over to me.
Our lips touch, but I feel the kiss all through my body. Sloan must too since she stiffens. But when I brush my mouth over hers in a gentle glide, a press of reassurance, she softens against me.
It’s almost surrender.
Maybe I should back away with a polite smile and look happy for our guests, but nothing is more important than imprinting myself on my wife. So I nudge her lips apart and settle my mouth more firmly over hers. And—yes!—she lets me in with a breathy moan only I can hear, shyly meeting my tongue as I slip inside.
Her sweet acceptance makes me lose my head.
I plunge deeper, sweeping my way past her lips to taste every part of her, reveling when she grips my biceps like I’m the only thing keeping her from melting. She tastes like cinnamon and honey—both spicy and so, so sweet.
God, I’m going to claim this woman as mine. I’m going to convince her to spend her life with me. Make her love me. I don’t know how that’s going to work since she still hates me. I’ll have to break down the barriers she’s built around her heart because everyone who should give a shit about her doesn’t. But as I press into her mouth again, I vow to figure all that out because I’m never letting her go.
Evan clearing his throat beside me brings me back to reality. The wedding. Our guests. My semi-hostile bride.
I ease away to find Sloan with rosy cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, and a gorgeously dazed expression. Unfortunately, I can’t take her to bed for hours. It sucks because I have no idea where her head is or what she’s likely to do once I get her alone.
Reluctantly, I release her, then take her hand and paste on a big smile for everyone attending our nuptials. Keeley sings Ellie Goulding’s “Love Me Like You Do” as we head down the stairs together, taking our first steps as man and wife.
She looks my way, the moment breathless, frozen, and uncertain—but I see a hint of hope in the curl of her lips as she clutches my fingers.
Maybe she doesn’t totally hate me…
Then she scans the crowd—and I know the exact moment she spots Bruce Rawson looking at her. She gasps and nearly trips on her long, flowing dress.
Quickly, I wrap my arm around her to keep her from falling. “Look at me, baby.”
“Why is he here?” she whispers.
I don’t know. Before I can tell her that, Britta, Bethany, and Harlow—along with the snarky brunette’s friends, Amanda and Masey—surround us and take Sloan’s bouquet before leading us to the lanai, which has been transformed from a beachside hangout to a wedding paradise during our short ceremony.
A trio of round tables has been assembled to accommodate our roughly twenty guests. A long banquet table occupies one side of the area, complete with chairs for the bridal party, elegant place settings, and a simple white cake, sprinkled with colorful plumerias. And lots of food perfect for a breakfast reception—platters of fruit, pastries, frittatas, and parfaits.
I sign the wedding license, then Sloan follows suit, hand shaking. It’s done. We’re officially and legally man and wife.
Maxon approaches from behind and slaps me on the back. “Congratulations.”
I turn and take his hand, watching my wife—it’s crazy to say that—out of the corner of my eye. “Thanks. And thanks for letting us get married here last minute.”
“Are you kidding? Keeley was tickled. I think all the ladies had fun last night. It was like a grown-up sleepover. Even Kailani did her best to keep up.” He smiles at his daughter. “Didn’t you, princess?”
Her happy gurgle lights up the big green eyes just like her father’s. “I really appreciate it. Just tell me how much I owe you all for everything.”
Maxon shakes his head. “Keeley and I are happy to give you the venue until ten and your honeymoon suite tonight. The cake was Britta and Griff’s gift to you. Noah took care of the photographer. Trace handled the flowers. Evan paid for the rest. Enjoy it. Be happy. And now someone needs a diaper change.”