“Nervous?” asks Val.
“Nah,” I say, finally getting Dad’s flower straight. “Why would I be? You two have to go first.”
They laugh, but the truth is that after giving birth with only a few hours notice, and spending the past seven weeks adjusting to motherhood and to life with Aiden in the middle of the city, this feels like a cakewalk. There’s not a single doubt in my mind about whether I’m doing the right thing. Aiden has been the best partner a woman could ask for, and the best father a girl could wish for.
Music begins to seep out of the hall. Val hands me my bouquet of ivory, burgundy and navy roses, full of winter sprigs, and gives me a quick air-kiss to avoid spoiling my makeup. Lexi steals a hug, and then, with a mutual nod, they both walk purposefully into the hall together. My dad offers me the crook of his left elbow and gives me a reassuring wink, and before I know it the music has changed to Wagner’s Bridal chorus. It’s our turn. The double doors in front of us open wide, and we start walking slowly down the makeshift aisle.
The hall of Driscoll’s resort is nothing like I remembered. The chairs are clothed in beautiful ivory covers and decorated with gold ribbons, flowers matching mine adorn the ends of the rows, and the wooden walls are draped beautifully with rich fabrics.
When I look to the front of the hall, I see Aiden standing there, devilishly handsome in his pale, smoky gray suit, decorated with a burgundy cravat, grinning at me. I smile at him, and, for good measure, when I approach him closer and the guests are all behind me, I bite at my bottom lip. He narrows his eyes at me, and I dip my head to suppress a chuckle.
The past seven weeks have been an exercise in patience, for both of us. Six weeks were obligatory abstinence, on doctor’s orders, and then we decided to abstain a little longer, until our wedding night. Well, okay—we didn’t strictly “decide” that. Aiden bet me I wouldn’t be able to resist him, and I took it as a challenge. Consequently, he’s spent the last week trying to rile me; kissing my neck then feigning disinterest, unveiling his ridiculously hot body slowly before getting into bed and pulling me against him while his erection presses against my back. It almost worked, one night, when a make-out session during Jessica’s nap got particularly heavy, but a hundred dollars is a hundred dollars. And a stubborn streak is a stubborn streak.
The service goes smoothly throughout. Having spent the last seven weeks caring for a needy newborn, we’ve opted to forego writing our own vows. We each repeat after the officiant, looking into each other’s eyes, holding each other’s hands. It feels like a dream, as I listen to him recite my full name and vow all of the evers and every one of the afters.
The officiant turns to the guests and asks: “If anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace,” and the obligatory awkward silence follows. I stare up at Aiden, my eyes twinkling with humor. And then Jessica decides to gurgle loudly into the silence. I laugh, along with my almost-husband and the entire congregation.
“You may kiss the bride,” says the officiant, finally. Aiden leans down, one hand on my waist and the other on the back of my neck. His lips touch mine and I feel a jolt of joy in my tummy, fluttering around wildly. Our guests clap and cheer, and when they—and I—realize he’s not stopping, everyone laughs. Aiden slips his hand a little further around my waist, holding me tight and tipping me back until I have to break the kiss to laugh, myself. He’s grinning when I look up at him, his eyes glittering.
“Hello, wife,” he says. I bite my bottom lip, smiling, and he kisses me again, deeper, before returning me to my feet.
The food they serve at the reception in Driscoll’s bar is delicious. There’s bubbly on arrival, canapes while we wait, then a six-course meal that I can hear everyone talking about enthusiastically, long after the dessert plates have been cleared away. Aiden’s parents chat to me throughout; his mother is particularly interested in how Jessica is getting on, who did my hair, and if I know whether Lexi is dating anyone at the moment.
The speeches are hilarious and heartwarming in equal measure. Aiden’s dad gives me a wonderful welcome into the family. Aiden has everyone near tears when he talks about how lucky he is and how beautiful I am, and about the unexpected Christmas miracle that is our daughter. My dad issues just enough threats in Aiden’s direction to be funny, but not overbearing. And Dave has everyone rolling in their seats with stories about Aiden’s childhood trips to the resort.
The band strikes up for the first dance, and Aiden and I take our positions. We slow dance around the floor to a chorus of claps and camera flashes from our guests. Aiden sweeps me around as though I weighed no more than a feather, and leans down to whisper in my ear.
“You’re beautiful in that dress,” he says.
I look up to him and smile.
“But I bet you’ll be more beautiful out of it, later.”
I feel my cheeks flush, and I chuckle, realising with some surprise that I’m nervous.
“Oh, beautiful, delicious Pip,” Aiden says beside my ear, his breath hot on my neck. He takes my waist a little more firmly in his grip and pulls me closer. “Did you really think you won our little game?” he asks.
I look up and he’s grinning down at me devilishly, looking like he might throw me over his shoulder and cart me off any second. I realize what he’s been doing for the last week:, winding me up, bringing me to the verge of giving up on my own stubbornness, then stopping at the last second, making me anticipate our wedding night more and more with every passing day. Without even thinking about it, I bite my lower lip in response, and his eyes zoom in on my mouth, his jaw clenching visibly with pure lust.
“We’re leaving in twenty minutes,” he says, as the first dance draw to a close. He pulls me close, one strong arm around my waist while the other hand cups the back of my head and he probes my mouth with his tongue. I can hear our guests cheering, but I’m so dizzy with need for my new husband that they sound distant and muffled. “So be ready.”
I have to take a moment to compose myself when we’re off the dancefloor, then I excuse myself to go and speak to my mother. She’s about to retire, too, with Jessica. I shower my daughter with kisses and cuddles around her ear protectors, Aiden comes over to do the same, and then we wave them off.
“Ready?” asks Aiden, when they’re gone. Everyone else is distracted on the dancefloor, boogying away to an upbeat medley of love songs.
I press my lips together and nod. Without another word, he takes my hand and sweeps me away from the hall.
Aiden
I carry my wife over the threshold into the cabin—the very same cabin we spent that wonderful first week in, almost a year ago—kissing her and enjoying her giggles as she holds tight around my neck. As soon as we’re inside, I stop in my tracks. Lexi and Dave have outdone themselves.
“Wow,” says Pippa, looking around the room. I place her down, gently, and spare a moment to take it all in.
The curtains have been drawn, and little jars with candles inside them glitter all around the room. The fire is roaring away, crackling and popping occasionally, and pillows and blankets have been draped artfully over the couches. Atop the table in the middle of the room sits a large bucket full of ice, with a bottle of fine champagne sticking out of it and two glasses sitting beside it, a fresh strawberry in the bottom of each one.
“No kidding,” I say to Pippa, giving her hand a squeeze and smiling at her.
“So… I guess we’re both about ready to turn in for the night?” she asks, nonchalantly.
I turn to look at her, narrowing my eyes as I see hers sparkling with amusement.
Her sense of humor was one of the first things I liked about her when we met. I laughed until my gut ached that first week, but at the time I thought it was just a frivolous thing, shallow and unimportant. Now that we’ve been together a little longer, moved in together, had a baby together, all at the sort of breakneck speed that would have shattered many cou
ples, I realize it’s a fundamental part of her. It’s like glue, holding us together, making everything just that little bit easier. Life with her isn’t just pleasant - it’s fun.
I lean down beside her and brush her hair back, away from her neck. My lips find the shell of her ear and brush her skin, ever so gently. I place the softest kiss I can manage against the side of her neck, another against her jawline, and another at the very corner of her beautiful mouth. She stares up at me with her huge, blue eyes, and I run my thumb across her lower lip.
“Do you want to turn in?” I ask.
She swallows, bites her bottom lip at the spot I’ve just touched, and shakes her head.
I scoop her up again, carrying her over to the bedroom, and nearly kick the door off its hinges in my need to have her again. Inside, there are more candles dotted around the room, throwing dancing light against the walls, and the bed is strewn with rose petals.
“Pretty,” she says, as I place her down.
“I’ve seen prettier,” I tell her, looking into her deep blue eyes. I lower myself down on top of her and take her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.
There’s eight long weeks’ worth of desire for her pent up inside me. Every time she’s laughed or smiled, every time she’s taken care of our daughter without complaint in the wee hours, or sat in her makeshift office, making sketches or emailing clients; pretty much every time I’ve looked at her, I’ve wanted to be inside her again. The last week has been particularly difficult, knowing that I could probably win our silly competition, but wanting to save it all for tonight. My length is straining hard against my pants, pressing against her thigh as she lets out a soft moan into my mouth.
“You’re sure you’re ready?” I whisper.
She grabs my cravat and wrenches me back down, kissing me eagerly and nodding. I don’t need any more encouragement than that.
Reaching down, I pull up her lovely gown, drape by drape, until it’s bunched around her waist.
“Filthy,” I groan against her lips, when I realize she has no underwear. It means she’s had no underwear on all day, and the thought drives me wild.
“It’s just because I didn’t want to h—”
I swallow her excuse with another kiss and reach down to where her hands are already trying to find my zipper.
“Shall I be gentle with you, Mrs. Coleman?” I ask, undoing my belt. She’s squeezing at my bulge with her hand, and I’m having trouble restraining myself. But restrain myself I must, and I will, if she needs me to. We have our entire lives to do this. Every single day.
She finds my zipper and peels it down, popping the clasp of my pants a moment later. I feel her hand close around my cock and a loud, satisfied groan escapes me.
“No,” she whispers, shaking her head.
She strokes me with a firm grip, and I reach down and wrench down the front of her dress. Her breasts spill forth and I dip my head, drawing one of her hardened nipples into my mouth and sucking gently.
“Are you sure?” I ask, thrusting myself through her fist with short, barely restrained snaps of my hips. She must surely be able to feel the pent up tension running through me.
Parting her thighs wider, she wraps her legs around my waist and releases my length, pulling me toward her.
“Fuck your wife,” she whispers, and her words murder my restraint.
I line up and look down at her, wanting to sink right into her, but aware enough of her wellbeing to hold back a little. I feel the warmth and wetness as I start to push, gently, and watch her face for any signs of pain or discomfort.
It’s a bad idea. The way her eyes roll as I press into her drives me wild. A shudder begins with the clenching of my balls and travels all the way through my body, and I lean down into her, snapping my hips forward until I’m buried to my sack, my mouth on hers, straining to hold still as she gasps and squeezes her legs tighter around my waist.
I reach down between her legs to find that sensitive little bundle of nerve endings that will be her undoing, and start to roll my thumb in a circle. I feel her relax underneath me, her brows lifting as she starts to respond, arching her back in invitation.
No longer able to restrain myself, I begin to roll my hips, rhythmically, slowly at first, but not for long. I thrust my hips, over and over, watching the tiny changes in her face, watching her cheeks turn a pretty pink and her chest a deep red. I’m in danger of spilling over, so I slow down, focus all my attention on her, circling my thumb around at that same, steady pace and matching it with my hips.
She looks so beautiful there, so obscenely beautiful, laid back on the bed with her breasts bared and her dress hiked up around her waist, her legs open, her head thrust back. She gasps huge, desperate gasps of air, her hands in the blankets, gripping at rich cotton and pretty rose petals. She takes a particularly large gasp of air and holds it, and I know exactly what’s coming.
As soon as I hear the first peep of her moan and feel the clench around my length, I grab her hips and pull her toward me, leaning down again and slamming my hips forward, faster, harder, prolonging her orgasm while I chase down my own. She is moaning loudly in my ear, renewed pleasure ringing out of her with every snap of my hips. My heart is thundering in my chest, my thighs are aching from the force I’m putting into every thrust, and then… release. My head explodes into a cacophony of pleasure, and I spill inside her, pressing, desperately, pushing as deeply into her as I possibly can. Breathless, heaving huge gulps of air while she twitches underneath me, I still.
Looking down, I see her lips formed into one of her secret little smiles, and lean down to peck a panting kiss to her mouth.
“I love you, Mrs. Coleman,” I tell her, as I ease myself off her and roll onto my back, pulling her into my side. She wriggles into me, draping her arm across my chest, and her eyes are satisfied, glittering little stars.
“I love you, too, Mr. Coleman,” she says, and I am complete.
Deleted Chapter
If you enjoyed Pippa and Aiden’s journey to their Happy Ever After and you just can’t get enough, sign up to my mailing list to read about the very first time they met.
Oh, and if you loved Lexi and Dave as much as I did, keep an eye out for news about them, coming soon!
Love and Rockets,
Harmony
xoxo
About the Author
Harmony Knight is an emerging romance author. Born and raised in an ex-mining village in South Wales (UK), where the only amenity was a post office and the only escape a twice-daily bus, she became an avid reader and book-lover from a very young age. After kissing her fair share of frogs, she found her prince and moved across the Irish Sea, from the land of song and dragons to the Emerald Isle, where she now lives with her family. She writes the books she loves to read, full of competent heroines and the caring alpha men who have to have them, and she hopes you'll love to read them, too!
For news and updates, sign up to Harmony’s mailing list, or check out her website at www.harmonyknight.com.
You can also follow her Facebook page by clicking the icon below.
This is Harmony’s debut novel.
Surprise Baby for Christmas Page 14