by Roxie Noir
“I think the first one is the real you,” I say, my voice just a broken whisper. “And I cried for weeks when I found out that Alex died, even though I never told anyone. I moved here to get away from thinking about it, and I tried to forget it happened because I knew I could never explain it to anyone. Because it sounds completely insane to say that the one person you want, more than anything else, is the guy who kidnapped you.”
I gulp air.
“I like that Alex,” I say. “But I’m still afraid I’m wrong, that the other version is the real one. I’m afraid I’m lying to myself because I’m some kind of idiot. That I couldn’t see the truth because I liked you too much.”
“It’s not,” he says. “I swear to God, Tessa, it’s not.”
I just look at him, both hands shaking and in front of my mouth, like if I keep them there he can’t tell what a goddamn mess I am.
“Can I hold you?” he asks, and I just nod and then he’s pulling me against him, my head in the spot where the LC tattoo used to be.
I give up trying to keep it together and just sob into the arms of the man whose heart I think I broke, because the world is ass-backwards sometimes.
“And then you were dead and I thought it was over and I wouldn’t have to decide,” I whisper. “How do you mourn someone you’re not supposed to want but do?”
“I wanted to tell you,” he said. “I couldn’t. I wanted to.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper between sobs. “I think I fucked this up and I don’t even know what un-fucked looks like.”
He just strokes my hair and holds me tight until the sobbing stops and I get the hiccups.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asks.
“No,” I whisper.
“I didn’t think so,” he murmurs. “You never acted like it.”
“I should have been,” I say.
“I’m glad you weren’t,” he says. “A lot of people were.”
I swallow.
“I always felt safe when you were there.”
“Even when you thought I was going to shoot you?” he asks.
There’s a long pause.
“Well, no,” I say. “But that worked out.”
“I couldn’t think of any other way to do it,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head.
“Don’t be,” I say.
“That morning, when I left, I called my boss and he told me he’d sent guys to kill you because he knew I didn’t want to,” he says, slowly. “And I tried to tell him that he shouldn’t, but it was already done.”
He squeezes me tighter.
“So I decided to rat on the cartel instead of letting them kill you,” he says, and then sort of laughs. “I actually didn’t think I’d survive this long.”
I hold him tighter against me.
“But I knew I’d rather die than let them hurt you,” he says. “I never regretted it. Even if you turn me down right now and I walk out of here and never see you again, I don’t regret it.”
“Don’t go,” I say automatically.
“Don’t turn me down,” he says.
“You haven’t suggested anything yet,” I say.
He laughs.
“Don’t ever stop arguing with me,” he says.
He leans back and pushes my hair out of my face.
“Is that the suggestion?” I ask, lifting my eyebrows.
“Give me a shot,” he says, his voice going serious. “Go on dates with me. We’ll see movies and go to dinner and whatever it is regular people do.”
I can’t help smiling.
“I’ll bring you flowers and chocolates and shit, and I’ll pick you up for dates and we’ll meet each other’s friends and everything,” he says.
“You want to be my boyfriend,” I say.
“Yes,” he says. “Tessa, let me be your boyfriend. At least try me out.”
I take his hand and intertwine our fingers.
“You cannot go through my phone and text people,” I say.
“I know better,” he said. “I swear, never again.”
“Never?”
“Never,” he says. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
I run my hand down his arm, skimming over the tattoos of Santa Muerte and his brother’s dates, and I have this moment of wonder that despite all this, he’s here with me now.
It almost feels like gratitude.
“I can get rid of La Santa Muerte if you want,” he offers.
“Don’t,” I say. “I’m glad you made it to twenty.”
“Good. I’d like to make it to thirty.”
“Don’t get rid of any of them,” I say. “Who you used to be isn’t going to just disappear.”
“So if you’re telling me what to do with my tattoos, is that a yes?” he asks.
“It’s a yes,” I say. “As long as I’m still your fuck goddess.”
“And my dirty fuck tiger or whatever I said the other day,” he says. “Can I have a kiss?”
I snort.
“Don’t start that,” I say.
“Start what?” he asks.
“Don’t start asking permission because you’re my boyfriend now,” I say. “Just fucking kiss me.”
He does.
Epilogue: Tessa
A year and a half later
“Maybe he got cold feet,” our friend Josh says.
His girlfriend Marisol rolls her eyes and smacks him playfully.
“He’s parking,” she says.
Alex’s mom comes up and puts her hand on my shoulder.
“He would never,” she says, very seriously.
“Thank you,” I say. “I’m not worried. He’s parking the car.”
My dad looks at the big clock in the atrium of Portland City Hall as the minute hand clonks over ominously. Four minutes to three, when we’ve got our appointment.
“Maybe he made a break for the Canadian border,” Josh says.
Marisol and I just roll our eyes.
“What’s Canada got that I don’t have?” I ask, giving Josh a hard time while I wait.
“Moose?” he asks.
“Sure,” Marisol says. “Alex got cold feet and left her at the altar because she doesn’t have any moose.”
Josh just grins and kisses her on the cheek.
The clock ticks over again and my dad elevates his pacing to a whole new level. He and Alex’s mom are the only ones here who know the real story of how we met, and I wish they would stop exchanging those looks.
Alex and I drove here together. Ten minutes ago. From our apartment. He dropped me off out front of City Hall because I’m wearing heels and went to go park the car.
I’m not getting jilted, for fuck’s sake.
But when the clock ticks down to two minutes left, I start worrying. Not that he’s left, but that we weren’t as safe as we thought. That some leftover element of La Carretera found him parking his Honda Civic in downtown Portland, or that someone he busted in his new job got mad and took him out.
Finally, with one minute left, I see him walk through the front door below and look up at us, standing on the third floor mezzanine.
I wave. Josh and Marisol cheer. His mom puts her hand on her heart. My dad relaxes visibly.
Alex gives us a thumbs up, then jogs to the stairs.
“I told you,” I say.
Moments later he’s turning the corner and walking toward us, looking sharp as fuck in a three-piece suit, every bit as tall and handsome as when we met three years ago.
“Sorry,” he says, coming up to me and putting a hand on my back. “The parking garage was full and I had to go to a different one.”
“We thought you left for Canada,” Josh says.
“Nobody thought that,” I say.
“Why Canada?” Alex asks. “All the strip clubs are right here in Portland.”
I laugh. His mom looks embarrassed and my dad frowns, but then the door to the Pioneer Room opens and there’s a hush for a moment.
“Last c
hance for Canada, buddy,” Josh says.
The four of them go in first and sit down, but just as I’m about to follow them, Alex grabs my hand and tugs me back outside.
“I want one last kiss from my girlfriend,” he says.
“I’m your fianceé,” I say.
“You gonna argue, or you gonna kiss me?” he asks, putting his hand on my lower back as he bends down and plants his lips on mine.
I put one hand on his shoulder and move my mouth against his just a little and his arm tightens around me.
It goes on a little longer than a public kiss in City Hall probably should. When we pull back he takes my hand in his and smiles at me.
“Ready, tiger?” he says.
“Ready,” I say.
We walk in holding hands, and all four of our wedding guests applaud politely. The Justice of the Peace is a smiling woman with gray hair and glasses, and whatever she says I barely hear.
Alex holds my hands in his and even though he’s trying to listen to what the officiant is saying, he’s absently rubbing one thumb over my knuckles, and it’s so comforting and protective and I’m so overwhelmed that I somehow ended up here, with him, that I almost cry.
The officiant lowers the book she’s holding and looks at us.
“Tessa and Alejandro have written their own vows,” she says. “Who’s going first?”
“Me,” I say instantly, because I’m already on the verge of losing my shit completely. I pull out a typed sheet of paper, because I’ve been working on this for a month and got all the words totally perfect.
I take a deep breath and crumple it into nothing, then look up at Alex.
“I was never sorry I met you,” I say.
He squeezes my hand. It’s probably a weird way to start wedding vows, but this is an atypical wedding.
“There was one time when we first started dating that we just watched movies all day on the couch,” I say, looking up at him. “And I remember I fell asleep on you almost right away, because even then, I knew I was safe when I was with you.”
“Pretty Woman?” he murmurs, and I nod, glad that he knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“I love that you’re never boring,” I say, my voice just a whisper now. “I wake up every day and think how fucking lucky I am that you’re there next to me, against all odds.”
I swallow. I’m crying now.
“I love you,” I barely manage to whisper.
There’s a loud sniffle from the crowd. Alex’s mom is crying.
“My turn?” he asks.
I just nod, pretty sure that if I say anything I’ll have a total break down.
“You’re the bravest person I know,” he says. “I fell for you the second I met you. I’m still falling. I would have crawled across the desert on my hands and knees to get back to you. I’d do it tomorrow. Sometimes I see you across a room and still can’t believe that you’re mine, and I wonder if this is a dream and I’m going to wake up someday.”
He swallows, and his voice lowers.
“This is it, tiger,” he says. “You were it for me from the moment I caught you. No one makes me feel like you do.”
He sneaks a quick glance at his mom, then leans in close to my ear.
“You’re my filthy sex tiger and you’re my fuck goddess, and I fucking love you,” he murmurs.
I turn bright red, and he’s grinning.
“I love you,” he says again, this time so everyone can hear it.
The officiant nods. If she heard what he said, she’s got a great poker face.
“Do you have rings?” she asks, and Marisol jumps up, handing them over.
Alex has mine and I have his. It’s a thick, simple gold band but it’s heavy in my hand, and I realize that Alex is going to wear this for the rest of his life, this thing I’m about to put on him.
I close my hand around it and squeeze.
“Do you, Alejandro, take Tessa to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do,” he says.
I slide the ring onto his finger and then squeeze his hand.
“And do you, Tessa, take Alejandro to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do,” I say.
He slides mine on, a smaller, thinner version of his, and I stare at it for a moment. Then I look up at him, and he starts grinning, and I do too.
“Now that you’ve exchanged vows,” she says. “By the power vested in me by the state of Oregon, I pronounce you husband and wife.”
Then I’m in Alex’s arms and he’s in mine and kisses me. It’s soft at first, tender, but then after a moment it deepens and I nearly forget where I am, in front of several people during my own wedding because there’s nothing but the two of us.
Finally we pull back and realize the officiant is looking at us with a wry expression on her face, and everyone is laughing.
“You may now kiss the bride,” she says, and he does.
We go for dinner and drinks with our parents and our friends. The restaurant figures out from my tea-length white dress that we just got married, so they give us free champagne.
“Appropriate,” he murmurs in my ear. “We met when you leapt for champagne.”
“I thought we met when you saw my picture the night before,” I whisper.
“That wasn’t meeting, tiger,” he says back.
We’re being super rude, carrying on right at the dinner table like this, not including anyone else.
“That was just lust at first sight.”
“Romantic,” I say. “You should have included that in your vows.”
“I thought fuck goddess got it across pretty well,” he says, and for a second I think he might bite my ear while his mom is watching, but he doesn’t.
I wonder how inappropriate it would be to sneak off and fuck my husband in the bathroom of this very fancy restaurant.
We rented a hot tub suite in the Portland Biltmore with the money we didn’t spend on a wedding, and the moment the elevator doors close my back is against the elevator wall and his erection is pressing against me, both his hands on my ass.
“I was right about something,” I say.
“What?” he asks.
“We never did fuck in an elevator,” I say.
“Not yet,” he says. “We’ve got ten more floors, tiger.”
“Then get to it,” I say, unbuttoning his suit vest as the elevator slows.
A couple with two young children gets on. They look confused when the elevator’s going up.
We behave ourselves until our floor, and then Alex pushes me up against our hotel room door.
“I still want you bad enough to fuck you right here,” he whispers, pulling my dress up as I bite his bottom lip. He moves his fingers up my thigh all the way to the top, and then frowns.
Then laughs.
“You forgot panties, tiger,” he says.
“I didn’t forget them,” I say.
He runs one finger along my slit, grinning, and I arch my back against the door, fighting down a moan.
At last, he reaches into his pocket and pull out the key card. He unlocks the door and then picks me up, carrying me inside and pushing me against a wall as I wrap my legs around him.
“Think you taste married now?” he asks into my ear.
“Wait,” I say.
He frowns.
“I have a surprise,” I say. “Put me down.”
“What is it?” he asks.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” I say.
He grumbles but puts me down, and I head to the room where our suitcases are.
In no time flat I’ve changed out of my wedding dress and into another outfit completely, and as I walk back to where Alex is, I grab a bottle of water from the dresser and then stand in the doorway.
“Holy fuck,” he says, a grin spreading across his face.
I walk toward him slowly, then sit on the edge of the hot tub and open the cap on the water bottle as he watches me, nearly panting with anticipation.
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I take one sip of water, and just let him think about what’s going to happen. I’m wearing a tight white tank top, no bra, and a denim cutoff skirt that would get me arrested if I wore it outside.
I pour the rest of the water on myself and then stand up and Alex is there, his mouth on mine as I tear him out of his clothes.
“I’m not driving this time, tiger,” he says.
“Maybe it won’t be so hard to get you to give me what I want,” I say.
He laughs.
“When has that ever been hard?” he says. “Say the word and I’m yours. I always have been.”
He bites one nipple through the wet fabric.
“Tell me what you want, tiger, and I’ll fucking do it.”
“I want the same thing as always,” I say.
I’m molten and electric and I’ve had a couple glasses of champagne.
“What’s that?” he asks.
“You,” I whisper. “Now.”
He pushes me backward onto the bed and then he’s on top of me. We’ve done this a thousand times by now, but I’m still as desperate for him as I was that day in the car.
“What if I can never get enough of you, tiger?” he murmurs into my ear. “I think I’m always going to want more.”
“I’m right here and I’m yours,” I murmur back. I put one hand on La Santa Muerte and for a moment, I thank her for keeping him safe.
“Say it again.”
“I’m yours. Forever.”
He groans and licks my neck.
“I like that,” he says.
“I like it too,” I say.
Then he pauses for a moment and lifts himself up and looks me in the eyes.
“I love you,” he suddenly says. “And I love this.”
“I love you,” I say back. “And I love being your fuck goddess.”
He grins.
“Good, because you’re stuck with it.”
He kisses me again.
“Always,” he whispers.
The End
Thanks for reading Loaded! I hope you loved reading it as much as I loved writing it, and I really liked writing it.
There’s another bonus book, too - Betting on Wolves. Just keep going :)
Betting on Wolves