I glance at my watch. “Not long now,” I soothe, rubbing her exposed back.
The moment crystallizes as my time in Bronze Bay comes together. The utter awful feeling of being sent to a satellite base, to the sheer joy of exploring the small town, to falling in love. With not just Caroline May, but with this place, my new home. The people surrounding us have played a part in our relationship in some form.My buddies from San Diego flew in for the occasion, and seeing them and their wives gives me more than hope. It gives me proof that real love survives anything.
It has to.
Because I won’t survive without her.
Not without her friendship, and surely not without the commitment we made today.
TWENTY-FOUR
Caroline
The suitein the inn is something out of my wildest dreams. One of his friends from San Diego stopped him in the hall. Several of them are staying here tonight. We had the extra space, so it was perfect, even if right now, it’s inconvenient. They were bro hugging and talking about something related to guns and bad guys, so I smiled politely and took my leave. This isn’t the room that Tahoe was staying in when he asked me to marry him, this is a few rooms that were renovated into a gargantuan room that overlooks the bay. It was far later than we wanted it to be when our guests started dispersing, so the late hour lends a bluish tint to everything it hits.
The ceremony was beautifully simple. We exchanged vows on the dock. I teared up, and staying true to character, Tahoe was serene and well-spoken. There were cheers and wild shouts when we kissed, and for that one second, all was right in our world. There was nothing on my mind but the love we shared. My cheeks, honest to goodness, hurt from smiling so much. We finally snuckaway when the rental company arrived to tear down the big, white tents. Now there’s electricity running through my veins where blood once raced. I’m buzzing with excitement and anticipation—the anxiety I feel at finally knowing what it feels like to have Tahoe in all ways.
There are white candles scattered everywhere. White lilies are in vases, covering every surface, even a few bouquets in large displays on the floor next to the arched window. It takes my breath away. It’s so eloquent. It’s so special. But I knew he wouldn’t treat this any other way, not after all we went through to keep this moment intact.
I sense, rather than hear, when he’s behind me in the doorway. “What do you think? Do you like it?”
“It’s perfect, Tahoe. I can’t believe you did all this for me.”
He drops a kiss on my shoulder. “I did it for us,” he corrects. “I want this to be perfect.”
Just this once. I agree with his definition of perfection. “It already is. Today was the most magical day of my life. I couldn’t picture anything differently. I’m so happy you’re my husband.” The last word is new, so I smile like an idiot when I say it.
He walks in and shuts the door. The resounding lock follows. “Yes, wife. I agree. What should we do first?” He uses his cell phone to play music through a wireless speaker. He turns it up. “We need some background noise, I think.”
My heart races. “Yes. Of course. What should we do first?”
He works the buttons on his uniform, and I watch in awe. “I’ll make the plan then. It’s not the mostcomfortable uniform. I’ll probably get comfortable. If you don’t mind,Wife?”
I nod. Like a meek child. Him naked is my favorite sight, better than a million sunrises or sunsets from the air. Better than a cloudy sky in mid-July.
He hangs up his shirt, a careful maneuver, and unzips his pants. Tahoe meets my eyes. “Then you should probably get out of that dress. It can’t be comfortable either.” His pants fall to the floor. He’s controlling this atmosphere completely, and I’m eating it up in the wildest way possible.
“It’s not. It’s absolutely horrid,” I deadpan.
He holds his dominance, but I see a hint of a smile in his eyes. He grabs the collar of his white undershirt and pulls it over his head in a brusque maneuver. Running his hands through his hair, he rakes my body with his gaze. “Shame. I don’t think you’ve ever worn anything that makes me want to fuck you more.”
I gulp, losing my breath. “Not even my white sundress,” I counter.
He shakes his head. “Nope. Not even close.”
“Why?” I raise my chin and step toward him.
He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “Because this dress means you’re mine.”
“Remember that time in the diner? You sat in Shirley’s section and barely noticed me?”
That memory takes him out of character—a slight grin pulling up his lips. “That wasn’t the first time I noticed you. That was the first time I let you see me noticing you.”
“I wanted you even then. When I thought I had noright to like a man as faultless as you. Even when you hassled me the month we worked on my house. I never admitted it to myself, but I was yours even then, Tahoe. A dress doesn’t make me yours,” I say, crossing to where he stands in a pair of dark boxer briefs. Slowly, I raise my left hand to his chest, right above his heart. “This makes me yours.”
His hand encircles my wrist, and it’s warm, a soothing touch.
“What comes next in the plan?” I ask softly. The moonlight makes his eyes glow even bluer than they are in natural light. Every muscle is shadowed and lit in perfect harmony. “I want to touch every single part of my husband,” I admit. “Can that be part of the plan?” I ask.
