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“If you don’t mind me saying,” the minister says. “You two make a fine couple. Just dandy!”

“You think so?” I ask.

“I know so! How’d you two love birds meet anyhow?”

I try my best not to laugh and then lie. “Oh, you know. Just one of those boring stories of two people meeting. I’m a waitress. He came into my diner.”

“Ah.” The minister nods and smiles. “Good ol’ Americana!”

I feel kind of bad for lying, but it’s not a complete lie. More like a lie of omission. An incomplete truth. That did happen; it’s just not the whole story.

I can tell he’s about to keep up the small talk, but thankfully the door to the men’s dressing room opens, and Anton steps out. And what I see simultaneously takes my breath away and makes me break out laughing.

Anton looks more handsome than Elvis ever looked in his life, but also like an Elvis that might kill you if you crossed him. I also can’t believe he actually did it. He walks toward me like I already belong to him, takes my hand, and places a ring on my finger. For some reason, this really affects me.

“This is not expensive,” he tells me. “I will buy you a nicer one when we return home.”

I look down. It’s a simple silver band with a small diamond. It may not be nice to him, but to me, it’s incredible.

“Anton…”

“You look beautiful, Peaches. More beautiful than Marilyn herself.”

“Gosh darnit,” the minister says with delight. “You two just made my day. Come on, let’s get you two hitched!”

5

Mia

The ceremony itself is quick and forgettable. Not because it means nothing, but because there’s nothing to it.

What really matters is what’s going on between Anton and me.

Neither of us had vows written, of course, which is fine. A hardened man like Anton dressing up like Elvis for me says more than any words he could ever have prepared. Once it’s all over and we are officially husband and wife, the minister says those fateful six words that cause my stomach to do backflips like it’s doing a balance beam gymnastics routine.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Bride…

Not kidnapping victim. Not blackmailed girl.

Bride.

Anton leans in, and my heart threatens to burst. “Yes,” he whispers, loud enough so only I can hear him. “Yes, I may.”

When our lips meet, the world suddenly seems to make sense.

Yes, this is how it’s meant to be.

My knees start to shake, followed by my legs, which tremble so hard I’m sure I’m going to fall down.

But Anton wraps his strong arms around my waist and holds me firm as he crushes his mouth against mine.

My first kiss…

And it’s not with a boy behind the bleachers, or in the backseat of my car, or at the school dance.


Tags: Jenna Rose Erotic