“Can I kiss you?”
A huff and an eye roll. So damn cute.
“Tell me something about yourself. Something big,” she said, a small quiver to her voice.
“I’m getting married today.”
Before she could react, I smacked her bare ass and scooted her toward the bathroom. “Go take a shower. The girls are here.”
“Girls? What—”
“I love you, Bunny!” I shouted over her protest, closing her in the room.
I pulled a pair of sweats over my wet body and yanked open the door. Aida barreled through and captured me in a painful embrace. “Fuck, Tits. I can’t believe you’re actually going through with this.”
Slade sauntered in behind, waited her turn, then hugged me long and hard. “Where’s our girl?”
“Shower.” I pointed a thumb over my shoulder.
“Good,” Aida chimed in. “The guys are in my room, waiting. Now, go.” She faked a kick at me. “We have lady shit to do.”
Barefoot and bare-chested, I scrambled to the suite three doors down and let myself in. Tango and Tucker sat on opposite ends of the sofa, each holding an icy glass of amber liquid, each still sporting bed head and different versions of pajama pants. “The fuck you losers doing?”
Tango lifted his glass to the sky, his grin forced, his skin pasty. “Bachelor party.”
Tucker laughed. “Hair of the dog.”
Fuckers had spent the evening enjoying the City of Sin, while I sat on a torture bed of ink and needles. Wouldn’t have traded places with them for anything.
Tango leaned back, stretching an arm across the back of the couch. “You sure about this, cousin? Don’t have to do it in a church. She’ll take you regardless.”
“Never been more sure of anything. My girl deserves to get married in a church.”
He held my gaze, assessing my mental competence, I assumed, then nodded. “All right then. I sure as hell never expected you to be the first, but damn, am I glad you’re blazing the trail for the rest of us.”
I clapped my hands and rubbed them together, dropping my ass on the couch between the two lugs. “Where’s my drink?”
Tucker retrieved a third glass from the table at his side and handed the liquid courage over, raising his own to the sky. “To killer curves and silver daggers.”
Tango lifted his glass. “To dancing queens and flip-flops.”
I raised my own. “To thunderstorms and church girls.”
Our crystal clinked. We swigged. We dressed.
Two hours later, I stood in front of the pastor, staring at my glowing bride, and I said, “I do.” I’d never spoken truer words.
And when she kissed me. Fuuuuck. That kiss. Brought me to my knees. Tuuli followed, arms tight around my neck, laughing, crying, and trembling against me. I held her tight, and there, on the floor of the church, in the arms of my angel, I prayed, stumbling through a pathetic, yet heartfelt thank you to a God I’d long ago turned my back on.
Later that evening, after I’d given my wife multiple orgasms and she lay sprawled across my chest, she whispered, “You knew I’d say yes.”
“No, Bunny. I expected you to say no.”
She raised her head, her chin resting on my sternum, those killer baby blues blinking up at me. “But the church, the dress, you had to have planned months in advance.”
“One month.” I brushed a chunk of hair off her face. Damn, that pink glow dusting her cheeks was a boost to the ego. “I knew if you did say yes, I wouldn’t be able to wait another day.” I shifted, pulling her on top of me. She wasted no time straddling my hips, nestling her sweet spot against my growing erection. “I fucked up, though. I’d planned to propose at the Full Tank, not our hotel bathroom. Didn’t predict what a mess I’d be.”
She merely smiled, a storm raging behind that sleepy gaze. “It was perfect.” Those delicious hips rolled, creating beautiful friction, lightning before the thunder. “We’re married.”
“Yeah, Bunny. We’re married.”
“Bunny and the Beast,” she said, on a breathy sigh.
“That’s right, Bunny and the Beast.”
I’d never been more grateful to be alive.
The End
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Madison. Thank you for sticking with me through this extremely slow-going, hair-pulling, soul-draining, gut-wrenching process. You are a blessing.
Julie. I love you. You are one of the most beautiful people I know, inside and out. Thank you for my gorgeous covers. Thank you for being my friend.
Felicia Moree. I’ve never met you, but I want you to know that your short-but-sweet posts on my FB page kept me going when I wanted to quit. And believe me, I wanted to give up at least three hundred times while writing this book. It may not seem like much, but for an author who struggles to be seen and heard, those tiny little bursts of encouragement are a lifeline.
My family. Just love. So much love, I could burst.
My readers. Thank you, thank you, thank you for spending time with my Triple T Boys and the women who rule their worlds.
Above all, thank you, Jesus!
How To Kill Your Boss
Aflame
Aglow
Truck Stop Tango
Truck Stop Tempest
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