Get Over You (Dare Me Book 1)

by Skylar Hunter

  After we exchange rings, Father Lozano prays over us and recites the Nuptial Blessing. He then pronounces us man and wife.

  Reyes lifts my veil and gently throws it back over my shoulders, staring into my face with a breathtaking reverence that makes my heart soar.

  “I love you.” In his voice is all the devotion that’s in his eyes.

  “I love you, too,” I whisper back.

  When he lowers his mouth to mine, the cathedral erupts in rapturous applause. We kiss like long-lost lovers as our guests cheer and whistle approvingly.

  By the time we pull apart and grin at each other, everyone is on their feet clapping wildly.

  In a totally unrehearsed move that draws scandalized gasps, Reyes sweeps me up into his arms, train and all, and carries me down the aisle while I throw back my head in euphoric laughter. The man is a renegade in every sense of the word.

  We exit the cathedral to find a throng of cheering, waving spectators lining the street. As we descend the grand staircase together, fireworks explode in the evening sky. Our guests cheer and shower us with orange blossoms that rain down like confetti.

  Kissing and laughing, we make our way down the red carpet to the white vintage Rolls Royce waiting in front of the church. When our chauffeur opens the back door, I climb in first. Reyes carefully piles my train into the car and then slides in after me, laughing as we find ourselves buried in a cloud of tulle.

  Undeterred, he grabs my face and resumes kissing me as we set off to take photos with the wedding party while our guests enjoy cocktail hour back at Bodegas Galindo.

  The reception is being held in the winery’s formal garden. The central courtyard is exquisitely decorated with round tables covered in white cloths and topped by luxurious floral centerpieces and candles in jars. Thousands of fairy lights twinkle in the surrounding trees. The garden’s fountains, statues and lush topiaries add to the romantic aura.

  When Reyes and I make our grand entrance, we’re greeted boisterously by hundreds of our friends and family members. Àvia invited nearly every relative in the country, hordes of Galindos and Olivareses. Many of Reyes’s current and former teammates came with their wives and girlfriends. Both of our agents are there, along with several old college friends and mentors. Greer and Zoe’s parents showed up, Lon came with his wife, and Brooks’s foreman and ranch hands brought their families from New Mexico. The crowd is also sprinkled with celebrities that Reyes has befriended over the years through his charity work.

  The weather is perfect, a gentle evening breeze carrying the aroma of Catalan cuisine served by a platoon of tuxedo-clad waiters. An abundance of wine flows from the winery’s cellars as everyone enjoys the lavish five-course dinner. Spanish guitar music playing softly in the background creates the perfect ambience.

  Toward the end of the meal, Reyes and I are presented with a slideshow featuring photos of us from early childhood through high school. We laugh in delighted surprise as we view the collection of images accompanied by Edwina Hayes’s apropos “Feels Like Home.”

  There we are riding bikes together, my bright red pigtails streaming out behind me. There we are sitting side by side on horseback, squinting into the sun with happy smiles. There we are playing and chasing each other around the front yard of his family’s big ranch house. There we are enjoying a horse-drawn hayride, my face covered with a huge wad of pink gum after Reyes popped my bubble.

  There I am looking gangly and awkward in a frilly white dress and heels, scowling murderously as Reyes teases me from behind the camera.

  There we are smiling and swigging spiked punch at each other’s sweet sixteen birthday parties, first his and then mine.

  There we are celebrating after he led our high school football team to the state championship. He’s wearing his muddy uniform and a megawatt grin while carrying me on his shoulders. I have his jersey number painted on my cheek and my index finger pointed skyward as I chant triumphantly, “We’re Number One!”

  And there we are at senior prom, laughing and dancing the night away.

  Each picture is like a love letter chronicling our journey to becoming one. As the slideshow ends and our guests break into thunderous applause, we share a long, deep kiss that has everyone hooting and cheering.

  A few moments later when Reyes’s father stands up to offer a toast to us, the crowd goes instantly silent, all eyes focusing on him.

  “As you all have just seen,” he begins in his molasses Carolina drawl, “Reyes and Emerson have known each other forever. I’ll never forget the summer afternoon she came unexpectedly into our lives. Reyes and I were in the driveway tinkering under the hood of our old pickup, and Natalia was on the porch swing rocking Mireia to sleep. Out of the clear blue, this little slip of a girl came peddling up the road on a shiny green boys’ bike. She came right up to the truck, introduced herself and told us she’d just moved into a house down yonder. She asked Reyes how old he was, and when he grunted ‘Seven,’ she clapped her hands excitedly and said she was the same age, so they could be friends. She then asked how many cows we had and offered to help out around the ranch, but only if we let her ride our horses.”

  Warm laughter fills the air as I duck my head sheepishly.

  Brooks chuckles, his blue eyes twinkling as he continues the engaging story. “Natalia invited Emerson to stay for lunch, and she talked our ears off the whole time. After she left, Reyes grumbled, ‘She’s annoying. She asks too many questions and talks too much.’ But the very next day, we found him sitting on the porch steps waiting for Emerson to show up.”

  A roar of laughter erupts from the crowd.

  I grin smugly and poke my tongue out at Reyes. He accepts the ribbing with a sheepish grin and a shrug of the shoulders.

  His father waits for the noise to die down before continuing warmly. “After that day, Emerson became a regular fixture at the ranch, and we wouldn’t have had it any other way. She completely stole our hearts and became one of us.” He pauses for a long moment, his voice deepening with emotion. “When Natalia lost her hair during chemotherapy, Emerson cut off all her hair in the most beautiful gesture of solidarity.” He looks at me with eyes full of gratitude. “You’ll never know just how much that meant to her. To all of us.”

  I give him a quivering smile, my throat so clogged with tears that I can’t swallow.

  When Reyes leans over and kisses my bare shoulder, the tears slip down my cheeks. Further down the table, I can see wetness glistening on the faces of Àvia, Blanca and Mireia.

  Brooks smiles softly at Reyes and me. “Nothing would have pleased Natalia more than to be present to witness this momentous occasion. Although she may not be occupying a seat at this table, she’s very much here with us, in our memories and in our hearts. And I know she’s celebrating this long-awaited union with as much happiness and joy as the rest of us.” He holds up his champagne glass. “To the newlyweds, Reyes and Emerson. Salut!”

  “Salut!” the crowd shouts with their drinks held high.

  Reyes nods to his father, his eyes shiny with tears.

  Brooks returns his nod with a quiet, loving smile.

  When I lace my fingers through Reyes’s, he turns and kisses me softly, sweetly, warming me to the depths of my soul.

  Speeches follow from Greer and Zoe. Their humorous anecdotes about Reyes and me elicit appreciative laughter from the crowd.

  After the toasts and speeches, it’s time for our first dance as husband and wife. In keeping with Spanish tradition, our guests form a heart shape around us to cheer us on when we take to the dance floor.

  As Ruelle’s “I Get to Love You” begins playing, Reyes pulls me into his arms. I melt against him with my arms wrapped around his neck, my eyes locked to his as we sway together, our bodies perfectly in sync.

  When I start mouthing the lyrics to the song, he lowers his forehead to mine, bringing our faces so close that I can see the blue flecks in his irises. We dance in slow circles, sharing secret smiles and whispers, lost in our
own magical world until the dreamy song ends and our guests clap and cheer.

  Over the next hour, a flamenco band entertains the crowd while Reyes and I visit each table to hand out wedding favors and take pictures with our beaming guests.

  “Beautiful wedding,” we’re told repeatedly. “Truly unforgettable.”

  By sundown the party is in full swing. Bellies are full of good food and wine, and the deejay is pumping out nonstop jams that keep the dance floor packed with twirling, gyrating bodies.

  We hired an entertainer to keep the children occupied so their parents could relax and enjoy themselves. So there’s a separate party happening in another section of the garden.

  Spanish weddings are famously long, and ours will be no exception. Four hours into the reception, I slip away to change into a slinky white sleeveless dress with a vee neckline that plunges almost to my navel.

  When I return to the festivities, Reyes is laughing and socializing with Greer, Alejandro and a slew of cousins whose names still escape me. He’s in the act of raising his glass to his lips when he spots me at the edge of the crowd.

  He pauses, his eyes sliding over me in a way that tells me the dress will be ripped off my body the second we’re alone.

  Seeing his reaction sends delicious excitement pulsing through me. I give him a sultry smile that has him licking his bottom lip before taking a swig of his drink.

  “I saw that,” Zoe purrs mischievously beside me. “That man is gonna fuck you good and hard tonight.”

  “Totally,” Teagan gushes breathlessly. “I’m so damn jealous!”

  “Same,” Zoe laughs, fanning herself. “I still haven’t recovered from the way he picked her ass up and carried her out of that church.”

  “I know!” Teagan squeals. “Talk about big dick energy!”

  I laugh and grab their hands. “C’mon, girls. Grab a partner and let’s dance!”

  I never knew it was possible to have so much fun at my own wedding. I’m having such a wonderful time that I don’t even bat an eye at the helicopters circling above.

  As the celebration stretches into the night, I lose track of how many people I dance with. Sometimes Reyes. Other times Greer, Alejandro, Uncle Miquel or one of Reyes’s celebrity heartthrob friends.

  I dance with Molly, who drunkenly informs me that I’m her favorite client, Reyes is the yummiest groom she’s ever seen and this is the best frigging wedding she’s ever attended.

  My bridesmaids and I rock out to Pink’s “Raise Your Glass,” throwing our arms in the air and shimmying our hips to a chorus of wolf whistles.

  Granda and I delight the crowd with some Irish step dancing that has everyone cheering and clapping to the jaunty song. Reyes apparently told the deejay to add some Irish music to his repertoire, which endears him even more to my mom and grandparents.

  When he and his former teammates break out into the latest hip-hop dance, all the ladies scream and swoon like they’re at a rock concert. I’ve seen the guys celebrate touchdowns with these slick dance moves. Tonight they look extra badass dancing in their tuxedo pants, ties loosened and shirts unbuttoned enough to reveal muscled male flesh.

  Swiveling my hips to the music, I sashay right up to Reyes and begin grinding on him, provocatively rubbing my ass against his crotch.

  The crowd roars with approval.

  Reyes grabs my hips, his breath warm on my cheek as he rumbles darkly in my ear, “Just wait till I get you alone, wife.”

  I shiver with pleasure at hearing him call me wife. Looking over my shoulder, I meet the wicked gleam in his eyes and purr coyly, “And just what are you gonna do with me, husband?”

  A wolfishly satisfied smile curls his lips. He likes his new title, too.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” he whispers sexily in my ear, sending a rush of tingles down my spine.

  I grin and turn, looping my arms around his neck as we grind our hips to the throbbing beat of the music.

  His arms are tight around my waist, his hands resting on the curve of my ass. Every inch of my skin is thrillingly, painfully aware of the layers of fabric separating us. The heat of his body is electrifying, and the pressure of his massive length against my stomach has my sex growing hot and slick with need.

  We’re spending our honeymoon night at a hotel and then returning tomorrow for the weekend’s farewell pool party. As much as I’m enjoying the festivities, I can’t wait to have Reyes all to myself.

  As the song changes to something slow, he pulls me even closer, his body moving sensually with mine. He’s more intoxicating than all the wine in the vineyard’s cellars, and the way he’s rocking his hips is driving me crazy.

  I slide my fingers into his damp hair and close my eyes, letting my body go with the rhythm of the music. One song flows into another, night slipping toward day.

  At four in the morning, a second round of desserts is brought out for the remaining partygoers. Reyes and I feed cake to each other, licking delicious icing from each other’s fingers as the crowd whoops and hollers encouragingly.

  He gazes into my eyes with a smoldering look. “Had enough yet?”

  I nod, breathless.

  “Good,” he rumbles. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  REYES

  We leave amid a flurry of hugs and kisses and sly goodnights.

  Greer slaps my back with a leering grin. “If you two don’t make it back for the pool party, we’ll totally understand.”

  I grin at him. “You might have to hold down the fort for us. If nothing else, we’ll probably be late.”

  His eyes gleam with mischief. “You’re putting me in charge of hosting a pool party full of babes in bikinis? No problemo.” He winks. “What are best men for?”

  Emerson wags her finger at him. “Behave yourself,” she warns before I grab her hand and tug her away.

  Drunk on laughter and exhilaration, we speed off in a Morgan Roadster that’s illegal in the States. We ride with the top down, coasting along empty stretches of road beneath a blanket of stars.

  Emerson lifts her face to the sky and laughs a carefree laugh, her hair blowing in the wind.

  I stare at her, dazzled by the long auburn strands whipping through the air like flames.

  She grins sideways at me. “Eyes on the road, mister.”

  I grin and reach over to catch a tendril of her hair, winding it around my finger.

  She sighs blissfully. “I can’t believe we actually did it, Reyes. We actually got married.”

  “We did.” My grin softens. “We took the long way, but we finally made it.”

  “God, yes.” She beams at me. “Everything was so freaking beautiful. The cathedral, the flowers, the garden—”

  “Not nearly as beautiful as the bride.” I gaze at her. “You were breathtaking, Em.”

  “Were?” she teases.

  “Are. Always.” I wink.

  Grinning naughtily, she unfastens her seat belt and straddles my lap, partially blocking my view of the road.

  I laugh in surprise, easing my foot off the gas as she wiggles against me, her dress riding up her thighs. The plunging neckline exposes the creamy swell of her breasts, tempting me to bury my face between them.

  “Little witch,” I growl, fighting to keep at least one eye on the road. “Are you trying to get us killed on our wedding night?”

  “Of course not.” Her breathy purr caresses my ear as she unbuckles my belt, unzips my pants and reaches inside.

  “What’re you—” I suck in a breath as her hand grips my cock, easing me out of my boxer briefs. My thigh muscles clench as she rubs her thumb over the sensitive head, spreading the bead of moisture that eagerly seeps out.

  “Holy hell, woman,” I groan.

  She laughs wickedly and nips my jaw. “Eyes on the road.”

  The first streaks of dawn are breaking across the sky as we reach our honeymoon destination in Costa Brava. Nestled high on a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, the luxury spa ho
tel offers seclusion from the rest of the world.

  After we check in, the smiling concierge escorts us to our rooftop suite. It’s large and luxuriously furnished with polished travertine floors, vinotherapy toiletries and a Jacuzzi.

  I tip the concierge generously, close the door behind him and turn to smile at Emerson. “Well? What do you think?”

  “Oh, my God, Reyes.” Bubbling with girlish excitement, she slips out of her heels and runs to fling open the French doors that lead to a terrace overlooking the sea and coastline.

  “It’s perfect,” she breathes, admiring the stunning panorama. “It couldn’t be more perfect.”

  “I think so, too.” Transfixed, I stand there watching her, trying to convince myself this isn’t just a dream, that she’s really here, wearing the ring I put on her finger after she pledged to spend the rest of her life with me.

  Just to be sure she’s not a mirage, I walk up behind her and bury my face in the soft, shimmering waves cascading down her back.

  “Mmm,” she sighs, leaning back against me as my arms slide around her waist. “This is absolute heaven.”

  “Agreed,” I murmur, savoring the lush heat of her body.

  A cool dawn breeze wafts over us, carrying the scent of crisp sea air mingled with bougainvillea tumbling down the cliffside.

  Emerson laughs softly. “You guys weren’t kidding about Spanish weddings being an all-night affair.”

  I grin. “We could have left hours ago. All you had to do was say the word.”

  “And offend our guests? No way. Besides, I was having the time of my life.” She turns in my embrace and wraps her arms around my neck, her beautiful green eyes glittering in the soft light. “Are you tired?”

  “Not at all. You?”

  “Not even slightly.”

  “Good,” I whisper in her ear. “Because I intend to keep you up for a long time.”

  “I’m counting on it,” she breathes as my hands slide down her bare back, stroking the sweet curve of her ass through her silky white gown.