“Yes, ma’am! I should be back in 25-ish minutes. Do your thing.”
I leave her to get ready and drive around the bay. Sneaking into my own house, early in the morning, makes it feel like I’m doing something wrong. Everyone is already up and gone, even Ka‘eo's truck isn’t parked at his place, but I feel like I’m about to be caught. I grab my uniforms and pack bags with my clothes and stuff from the bathroom. I can deal with anything else later when I’m ready to face my housemates.
When I pull up at Nalani’s she’s waiting for me at the top of the stairs, like a princess ready to be presented at court. She’s even more beautiful than when I left her. How is that possible? It’s like some kind of sorcery. Her hair is falling in smooth waves, and she looks polished and sophisticated in her dark blue dress. She’s wearing makeup, but it’s subtle, highlighting what makes her special instead of changing it. I find myself out of the car, watching her walk down the stairs, really solidifying the movie princess imagine, staring.
She nibbles her lower lip, nervously. “Do I look alright? Wedding worthy?” She does a cute little curtesy and I pull her into my arms. I’m kissing her, breathing her in, feeling whole and happy with her pressed against me. She’s wearing heels and I don’t have to lean down as much. We need to get going, but I don’t want to pull away.
“You are gorgeous.” I press my lips to hers one more time, savoring the sensation, and then take a step backwards before I forget why I’m here. “Really. Gorgeous. I’m going to run my shit upstairs before I forget our schedule and drag you up there to take that dress back off of you.” She blushes and I can’t help but steal one more kiss. I open the car door for her, drop off my stuff, and point us back towards the H-3, Honolulu, and the unbelievable reality of a wedding with my dream girl.
17
Nalani
Today has already been a whirlwind and it’s not even 8 am. After leaving home, I spent the ride tingling from that kiss and growing increasingly nervous about the wedding. Not about Ames, necessarily, but it’s all starting to feel very real and I’m not ready to emerge from this dream weekend to face reality. Ames insists on going to Na Hoku, a really nice local jewelry shop, to buy our rings. Being surrounded by glass cases of sparkling jewels and shining metals makes my palms sweat.
“Ames, this is too much. I don’t want you spending a ton of money on rings while we date and share a last name.”
His hand rests on my shoulder, thumb stroking my collarbone. “I want you to have something worthy of you. You shouldn’t have to wear something plain, like a prop for a charade.” That digit is smoothing away my nerves, comforting and sweet. “Let me pick something, and you tell me if it’s right.” Wedding rings are expected, I suppose. How will we convince people we’re legitimate if we don’t even wear a sign of our commitment?
We stroll around the cases, Ames bending down to look more closely often before guiding us on. The salesman tries to steer us towards the cases filled with platinum rings, but Ames is resolute.
“My girl needs yellow gold. I don’t want anything that won’t complement her skin tone and natural warmth.”
Is it warm in here? Maybe their AC should be bumped a little. I’m watching his profile — the straight line of his nose, the fall of his hair on his forehead, the shadow his lashes cast on his cheeks as he looks down — when he straightens up, startling me with the quick change in posture, and taps the glass.
“That’s the one.”
Unlocking the case, the ring is pulled out and handed to my fiancé, the use of that word in my head giving me a little glow. I’m afraid to look, suddenly nervous, as if all of this is real. He turns to face me, dropping down to one knee, and my insides dip like I’m on a ride at the state fair. The ring he presents is too extravagant by half. It has a round diamond, surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds on a yellow gold band with maile vines etched on the top and bottom edge of the band. It’s delicate and absolutely gorgeous. A dream ring. The kind of jewelry you’d pin to a mood board, fantasizing about the future. Butterflies are taking flight inside me, and stupid, embarrassing tears are pricking my eyes.
“Nalani, will you accept this ring and share your life with me?”
I nod dumbly, unable to speak, and he slides the ring on my finger, kissing me like the staff aren’t watching us. It doesn’t take long for the ring to get re-sized, and Ames pays for it and the matching bands.
Getting the license is easy, especially since we had already filled out the paperwork ahead of time. I insist on paying for the license and ceremony and I’m glad Ames doesn’t fight me on it. I didn’t like feeling like I wasn’t contributing, like I was merely being swept along through this whole thing. We make it over to our civil ceremony appointment with plenty of time to spare. Ames looks completely at ease while I feel like I have a swarm of warring, angry wasps buzzing around inside of me. I’m unconsciously wringing my hands together, only realizing I’m doing it when he reaches over, without even looking up from the pamphlet he’s reading, and takes my hand, running his thumb along my inner wrist in calming circles, before bringing it up to press his lips there. How does he do that? He sees me in a way that no one ever has — like I’m not one giant flaw. We’ve only been sitting here for 10 minutes, but my heart is racing like I’ve been over here doing stupid HIIT workouts. Finally, we’re called back.
Ames gives the woman in the office his phone to take pictures for us.
“This will be short, ya?” I ask nervously. “Is there like a lightning-fast option?” The longer we wait the more twisted up my digestive system gets. I want to be done already. Surely my nerves will dissipate once we’re married. It’s just the weight of the moment that’s messing with me. The officiant looks taken aback. I can’t possibly be the only person that wants their civil ceremony to be as brief as possible, can I? Isn’t that one of the main advantages?
Ames turns on his Southern charm. “It’s probably clear, since we’re here, that the wedding ceremony itself isn’t important to us. We’re not worried about the look or the pomp of a fancy wedding. The only thing that matters to us is the marriage. We’re impatient to get to that part. We want to be husband and wife. Do you have a ceremony that focuses on that? Something that will get us out the door quickly to start our life together?”
That seems to hit the right note. Ames has a gift for saying the right thing and fixing situations I make weird. I should marry that guy…
The officiant shuffles some papers around and then we’re standing, facing each other and holding hands, being married. Ames’ dark blue eyes are locked on mine and I can’t look away. More than that, I don’t want to. He looks earnest and genuine, and I let myself believe that this is real, that I’m joining my life to his out of love and a desire for commitment. I imagine him wanting to take care of me as much I want that, and I relax into the moment. He slides the wedding band he selected for me onto my left ring finger, a thin gold band with more maile vines, his warmth and steadfastness calming me in a way I’m already beginning to rely on.
“I, Ames Harrison Cabot, take you, Nalani Mino‘aka Kimura, to be my lawfully wedded wife. I commit myself and all I have to you and the life we will create together. Take this ring as a sign of my commitment and fidelity.” He lifts my hand and kisses my ring finger, making those butterflies take flight again. The woman with his phone audibly sighs. Clearly, I’m not the only one his magic works on. I grab the ring I selected, a wider gold band with matching maile vines etched in a channel around the middle, and slide it onto his finger, my hands shaking.
“I, Nalani Mino‘aka Kimura, take you, Ames Harrison Cabot, to be my lawfully wedded husband. I commit myself and all I have to you and the life we will create together. Take this ring as a sign of my commitment and fidelity.”
Ames’ eyes have never left my face and I am barely paying attention when the officiant tells us that, by the power given him by the state of Hawai‘i, we are husband and wife. Ames tips his head ever so slightly, like he’s asking my permi
ssion to do what’s expected. I smile, wanting it more than anything. He keeps ahold of my now adorned hand, bringing his other up to my face, cupping it gently. The kiss is soft, full of promise, and I’m melting into him. I feel giddy with the contact. I hope we do a lot of this over the next year because my husband is an amazing kisser! The woman looks a little teary eyed — how can you be that emotional if you hang out marrying people every day? Maybe consider a career change, Auntie — as she takes photos of us. Ames takes back his phone and our paperwork and we’re done. We’re married. We walk out hand in hand and the giddiness hasn’t left. In fact, I think it’s intensified. A crazed giggle escapes and Ames does his freaking adorable loud braying thing.
“Holy shit! We’re married!” The sound of my heels on concrete and our laughter surrounds us and he grabs me, dipping me low like we’re in a freaking rom-com and kisses me. We hear someone yelling and we both turn, seeking out the voice. There’s a giant Hawaiian dude at the bottom of the stairs, hollering up at us.
“Yo! That’s killah!” He’s jogging up towards us and Ames brings me back up to standing. “Give me your phone, Brah! You gotta have loving kine moments captured!” He grabs Ames’ phone and runs back to the bottom of the stairs, grinning wildly. “Do it again! Kiss your wahine! I got you!”
Ames does as he’s told, dipping me low again and making my toes curl with a kiss that leaves me breathless.
“Does that work for you, Mrs. Cabot?”
“Mmmmhmmm.” I nod, words failing me in the wake of the fiery pressure of his lips. Our new buddy jogs back up to us, making Ames flip through the photos to make sure we like what he got.
“These are awesome, man! Thank you for doing that for us!”
He tosses us a shaka and yells congratulations as he leaves.
We eat a celebratory lunch, getting stopped constantly by strangers. I’m assuming it’s the beaming hottie in the tux that’s causing it. That and the fact that we’re more than a little overdressed for lunch, especially in Hawai‘i. We’re heading into the hotel when our clothes and new rings catch the eye of the concierge.
“Am I right that congratulations are in order?” he inquires.
“This beauty just became my wife!” Ames is really leaning into his new role. I like it.
“Wonderful! Please, allow us to send up complimentary chocolate covered strawberries and champagne.”
“That’s really thoughtful,” I speak up, “but we actually don’t drink. We’d happily accept sparkling water or something similar, if you have it, with our greatest appreciation.”
“Of course, Mrs. Cabot. With pleasure.”
I’m humming happily to myself, mentally weighing the feel of being called Mrs. Cabot, as the elevator doors close and Ames pounces. He presses me into the mirrored wall, body flush with mine, arms boxing me in, his lips insistent and searing.
“What was that for?” I blink, feeling drunk from the unexpected, passionate kisses.
“Because I like you.” He punctuates his words with tiny kisses on my face. “Why did you tell the concierge we don’t drink. You never mentioned that to me.”
“Was that ok? Abstaining is important to you. If we’re together, it’s important to me too.” He kisses me again, with a little more fire this time and my knees threaten to buckle beneath me.
“I really, really like you, wife.”
18
Ames
It’s a little awkward maneuvering from the elevator to our room considering I still have my arms around my wife and haven’t stopped kissing her. Rather than continue to stumble around, I hoist her up. Her legs wrap around me and I’m struggling to focus on getting us to the door with so much of her touching me at once. Fumbling the key card, I almost drop it, but I’m not sure she notices since she’s unbuttoning my shirt. I’m being choked by my bowtie and Nalani is trying to pull my shirt out of my pants while her legs are still wrapped around my waist.
“Nalani, I’m trapped in my tux. I’m going to have to put you down if you want me to take it off.”
“Yes, take it off. Take it all off.” She scrambles down my body, reaching back to unzip her dress but freezing at the sound of a knock at the door. I turn to answer, and she pushes me behind it like we’re in high school and I’m hiding from her parents. “You can’t answer the door looking like that!”
“What do I look like?” I smirk.
“Like I was trying to rip your clothes off while sucking face!” She opens the door and the barely contained laughter on the young guy’s face says he heard everything. I can’t help but laugh, watching Nalani smooth her hair and hold the door open for him to roll the room service cart inside. Once the door is closed she covers her face in her hands, moaning. “That was so embarrassing!”
Pulling her hands down, I tip her chin up until she’s looking at me. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about — you’re completely dressed. And we’ll never see him again, no worries. At most, we gave him something to laugh about.”
She runs her hands up my torso before trailing them back down to my pants, undoing them. “Is it bad that I don’t even want to take the time to get undressed?” She reaches in, freeing my cock and pumping me with her small hand. “Can I have you just like this?” She slowly lifts the bottom of her dress, revealing that she’s not wearing anything underneath.
“Fuck me,” I whisper.
“That’s what I’m saying, Ames. Please.”
That small ‘please’ undoes me. We crash together, impatient, and eager. I lift her onto the dresser behind her, finding her wet and ready for me. The spreading of her legs is all the invitation I need. She giggles, the sound like music, as my pants slide down and I have to shuffle forward, but it turns into a moan as I rub my tip along her folds. We may be aching for each other, but that doesn’t mean I want this to be quick.
She runs her fingers through my hair, nipping at my bottom lip. I want to match her fervor and frenzy with languorous exploration. She’s making it hard. Nalani pushes my flapping shirt to either side and lightly scratches her fingernails down my chest. I unzip the back of her dress, trailing my fingertips along the delicate bones of her spine as I pull the garment down her body. She is all silk beneath my hands and I have trouble with the clasp of her bra, finally just pushing it down, out of my way, in my near desperation to get my mouth on her. Finally freed, I circle a firm bud with my tongue, and she arches in to me.
“I need you, Ames,” she gasps, writhing against me.
“I’m yours,” I push slowly into her warmth, resting my forehead against hers. “Anything you want, everything I have, it’s yours.” I capture her mouth and we find our rhythm easily, like there’s never been anybody else. There’s no more talking, our bodies saying everything for us. Her legs are wrapped around me, holding me close, and instead of stroking in and out, my movements become deep and slow. The sensation is intense. Nalani grinds against me, a small wrinkle forming between her brows.
“It’s so good,” she breathes, but as she tightens her muscle to lift up into me, that small wrinkle forms again. My wife needs more. I slide my hand between us, leaving my thumb to rub against her clit every time I thrust in. “Oh shit, that’s what I needed. Right there.” Her head drops back, eyes fluttering. Fuck yes. There has never been anything more beautiful than Nalani, lost in pleasure. The moment she comes, tightening around me and pulsing against my thumb, her eyes fly open and it’s as if she can see into my soul. I could lose myself here. The orgasm she milks out of me has me calling her name, clinging to her small body like she’s my lifeline. I may already be lost. It’s possible it’s already too late.
“I’m not sure how I’m going to survive this marriage if you make me feel this turned on all the time,” she muses, lips curving up into a smile. She fixes her bra, adjusting the cups and demurely pulling her dress back up. She’s quickly tidy and ladylike while I’m half-dressed and disheveled. I should probably do something about that.
Stepping out of my pants, I a
djust my boxers and walk over to the closet area, opening the garment bag the tux came in. I’m methodical, efficient, locked on to the task at hand. Shoes lined up in front of the door, socks back in my bag, pants smoothed and hung smartly on the hanger, then the shirt over the pants, buttoned enough to keep it from sliding off the hanger, followed by the bowtie looped over top. I’m turning to find the jacket when I hear an odd, strangled sound. I locate it quickly and realize Nalani is staring at me, mouth looking a bit like a goldfish going after fish flakes. I pause, jacket in hand, “Everything ok?”
She snaps her mouth closed, still staring.
“Nalani?”
“Um, sorry, I’m being weird. I, uh, just wasn’t expecting you to strip down in front of me.”
“I’m not naked.” My brows are wrinkled with genuine confusion. “And we’ve actually been naked together. Oh shit, was it that forgettable? Do you remember the naked times?” I can’t get enough of the sound of her laughter. I’d humiliate myself every day, no shame, just to make her laugh.
“The only way I could forget the naked times is if I had actual amnesia! Even then, I’d probably forget my own name, but still remember that.” She giggles again. “This just felt different, I guess.”
“How?” I finish what I was doing, adding the tuxedo jacket to the hanger and zipping everything inside the garment bag before walking back to stand in front of her. I admit it, I’m still messing with her a little by not getting dressed. I am genuinely interested in finding out what about this is bothering her, though. We’re about to be living together, after all.
“I guess nothing.” She blushes. “My brain was somewhere else, and then suddenly you were taking off all of your clothes like it was no big thing. I wasn’t quite mentally prepared for casual nudity.”
“I didn’t think it was a big thing, especially not after what we just did. I just needed to hang the tuxedo up, so I did. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable though. Should I plan on getting dressed and undressed in another room?”
Like a Good Wife (Oahu Naval Officers Book 2) Page 8