Page 6 of Cord

Cord smiles, and it softens his leathered features. “You just made me the happiest man in the country.”

It only takes a few minutes to start the wedding over again. This time, when my father walks me down the aisle, he says, “You come home to me if you’re not happy. Don’t you ever stay with someone who makes you feel like you’re not worthy.”

I give him a serene smile, not understanding why I feel at peace with this decision. I only know that I can trust this cowboy in a way that I could never trust Stuart.

Despite the tuxedo, Cord looks every inch the cowboy as he stands at the front of the ballroom, his gaze blazing. His work roughened hands take mine in his, and he leans close. “It’s all going to be okay.”

To anyone else, it looks like sweet things. But to me, it’s the first time I can breathe since I said yes to Stuart’s engagement.

We repeat our vows to each other, and it strikes me that his voice never shakes and he never stumbles over the words. It’s like he’s spent a lifetime practicing for this moment. When he slides the simple gold wedding band on my finger, I love it so much more than the one with the crazy number of diamonds on it.

After the officiant says it’s time to kiss the bride, butterflies tumble in my stomach. I’ve never had a reaction to a man like this. Never wanted to be kissed so badly that the anticipation was sweet torture.

Cord looks like he feels the same way. His hands go to my hips, and he pulls me close. Our breaths mingle as he growls, “Come here, wife.”

The meeting of our lips is gentle and soft. He kisses me like I’m precious, someone to be held and cherished. I melt into him, letting him hold my weight as he teases my mouth open and strokes my tongue.

I press against him, suddenly needing to feel him everywhere. He’s big and strong and makes me feel like I’m finding home.

When he finally lifts his head, I’m drunk on the feeling of his lips, desperate for another taste of him. The look he gives me is filled with masculine longing. His voice is gritty when he says, “Welcome to the start of forever.”

Chapter 3

Cord

I am owned by a goddess. That was my first thought when I saw Mira Moore for the first time. It was more than how she looked in that little white slip. It was the fire in her eyes and the way she carried herself. Like a woman done apologizing to the world for not being enough and instead demanding that the world accept her as she is. Hot as fuck.

Every bit of my blood went straight to my cock as soon as I saw her. I wanted nothing more than to grab her and hold on to her for the rest of my life. It’s not every day that a cowboy walks in on his soulmate already dressing for the wedding. A man can’t get luckier than that. Then I learned she wanted me to interrupt her wedding, and I knew it was perfect. She is perfect.

The tuxedo was about two sizes too small, and the wedding bands were simple, lacking any ornate detail. But still it was the perfect wedding in my eyes because she was there. My bride. My Mira.

After our wedding kiss, I saw it on her face. The pure lust, the need and the desire but also fear. It’s little wonder she’s afraid of making a mistake after that dickhead she was about to marry. He may have tripped over a few things in the parking lot on his way to leave. Pity when that happens.

“Let’s get the bride and groom together for the photos,” the wedding planner announces. She’s a little too loud and a little too enthusiastic.

“We don’t have to do those,” Mira says softly, for my ears only.

“This should look real,” I remind her and instantly hate myself for saying it. This isn’t fake in my mind. It’s every bit the real deal, and I don’t want her thinking for a moment that I’m not in this for the long haul. I met my soulmate and married her twenty minutes later. How many people are lucky enough to say that?

“Of course,” she answers and squares her shoulders. There she is, my perfect goddess. The warrior who won’t let this world push her around. She might doubt her strength, but I see her spine of steel.

The next hour passes by in a blur of poses. I take advantage of every opportunity to put my hands all over my new bride, inhaling her intoxicating scent and memorizing the curves of her body.

When it’s time for our first dance as man and wife, I pull her close, loving the way she fits her head against my body. We were made for this, to wrap around each other. I’m certain of it.

While I’m busy marveling over how perfectly we fit together, she whispers the words that break my heart, “I know that you saved my pride out there, and I appreciate that. We can quietly get an annulment after this. No one even has to know you were ever married.”

Fuck that. I don’t plan on letting her go and more than that, I want the whole world to know we’re married. But I don’t want to tip my hand and risk making her run away scared, so I keep quiet.

She sighs softly and puts her head on my chest. “Only a few more hours to go.”

I’m not letting my miracle slip away. Not now. Not ever. But I don’t tell her that. Instead, I spin her around the dance floor, holding her close for every love song until it’s time to cut the cake.

The rest of the wedding festivities pass quickly. It’s obvious to me that while everyone here is for the bride, most of them aren’t close to her. If anything, it seems like most of the guests in attendance are from her company and business network.

It’s only when she’s yawning that I finally insist it’s time for our honeymoon to start. She’s exhausted and clearly needs to rest.

“We have a honeymoon suite booked upstairs,” she whispers. “Come up with me then slip out a back exit later when most of the guests are in their rooms.”