Dare You Forever (Brothers of Ink and Steel #2.5) (7 page)

Quinn runs and grabs a damp towel, and Jules holds it to my face—catching the tears as they stream so they don’t spoil my gown.

I try to stop crying—honestly—
but a broken watch?
Love that is so unconditional and accepting?

“Mommy?” Charlie’s gentle little fingers twine with mine.

I desperately try to pull it together. “I’m okay, sweetheart, really I am.”

“Then why are you crying?”

I shrug. “I’m … I’m happy, baby.”

She gives me a thoroughly puzzled look.

“Here, let’s go see what we see can out the window.” Britt leads her to the other side of the room.

Debra hugs me carefully, trying not to mess me up more than I already am. “Now I have two daughters to love.” She glances back at Quinn. “And a grand baby in the same giftwrap. Thank you for that, Sophie.”

“Yeah, we totally needed some more estrogen around here.” Quinn comes over and takes my hand.

She flips over my wrist as Debra takes the bracelet from the box and fastens it on my wrist.

“Now you have your something new.” She kisses me on the cheek.

Her soft lips are warm and tender like a mom’s, and it doesn’t help me stop crying. “I really, really missed my mom last night. Thank you—both of you,” I say, including Suzanne. “For giving me two.”

“Mommy’s still crying,” I hear Charlie say from over by the window.

Everyone laughs.

“What’s so funny?” she asks Britt, who shrugs her shoulders.

“My turn,” Jules cuts in. “Hike your skirt up, sweetheart, I have the something blue.” She winks and slips a blue lace garter over my foot and ankle and slides it up to my thigh.

“It counts for something borrowed too,” Livie explains. “Both Jules and I wore it for our wedding days. Now it’s a tradition.”

Oh no.

“Why are you crying again?”

“Because we have a sister tradition.”

“Josh is going to think she got hurt.” Suzanne shakes her head, watching me.

“I can’t help it,” I blubber.

“It’s okay.” Livie kneels down and rests her head on my shoulder.

“It’s time for the something old, so I guess that means it’s my turn,” Suzanne says.

I try to laugh at her joke, but I’m not sure I can take much more.

“First I want to tell you how very proud I am of you,” she begins.

Yeah, she’s going to make me cry. In fact, it’s like she’s trying to.

“You, my beautiful new daughter, have overcome obstacles you could have never foreseen in your life. And look at you. You are an amazing mother who would do anything for her little girl, and you’re a beloved fiancée, soon-to-be-wife, to my son. It’s because of your love and your strength that you’ve come this far, and I’m so grateful to the universe for plucking you and Charlie up out of harm’s way and dropping you both into our lives.”

Now she’s crying with me.

“When I met you for the first time over the Christmas holidays, you were so wide-eyed with fear, and now … now you’re invincible.” She strokes my cheek lovingly with her fingers.

“You all—your love and Josh’s love—helped make me that,” I remind them. “You gave me the roots to stand strong.”

She smiles and it’s so beautiful and sincere and overflowing with a mother’s love. “That’s because we’re a family.”

Suzanne barely gets the words out before she pulls up the corner of my crying towel and carefully blots her eyes and cheeks.

“Now, this is your something old.” She attempts to smile through the tears but only more fall.

Suzanne turns a small white satin bag upside down over her other hand. Out tumbles a large silver pin. On it hang two small silver framed charms.

I look closer. In the tiny frames are postage stamps—one has wavy lines of ink, as if it had actually been mailed.

“Colt and I were high school sweethearts and fell in love young, but when his parents passed away so tragically, he struggled hard to find himself—his meaning, what he believed. He was lost. And when the state didn’t let him near his brother Cade, it tore what little was left of him to shreds. He removed himself from the place the pain was the worst, and that was Minnesota.” She looks into my eyes. “I didn’t think we were going to make it. I cried for six weeks. Then the first letter came.” Her fingers hold one of the stamps above the other prominently. “This stamp is from the first letter I got from him. He’d written to explain how he felt, how sorry he was, and that he wondered if I could ever forgive him. And for the next year we wrote back and forth every day—this was before computers and email—and on weekends we’d talk on the phone all night; it was the only time we could afford the calling rates.”

“Letters,” I say with a sigh.

“It’s how we kept our love alive,” she continues. “I know your wedding color is gold, but I thought I’d make this silver as a contrast—you’re always going to have adversity in addition to the good times. Just remember that there’s always a silver lining, especially when you least expect it. That’s how I felt about these letters.”

“And the second stamp?” I ask, sniffing. “I have to know.”

“It was the last letter he sent me. He actually delivered it himself.” She smiles and bites her lip with the recollection. “In it, he told me he was coming to get me and we wouldn’t be apart any longer.”

We all just sit quietly, caught up in the memory with her.

“Now I know where Josh gets it from.” I can’t help but put my arms around her, and I don’t care at all about the dress. “Thank you for raising such a wonderful man.”

She squeezes me, then says, “Here, stand up and turn around so I can pin it to the inside of your dress.”

“I don’t want it on the inside, I want it on the outside,” I tell her.

Suzanne nods. I turn and feel her gentle fingers work the pin against the top of my heart shaped breasted gown, which wraps around to my mid-back.

I gather my hair and pull it to the side, over my shoulder. “Can you see it?”

“Perfectly,” my new mother replies.

“Then spray my hair please, so it stays here.”

“Oh … I brought a lovely clip!” Jules goes to her makeup bag and comes back with simple gold hair comb.

“Perfect touch,” I tell her.

She smiles sweetly then says seriously, “Now, everyone out of the room! I have to fix her makeup and no one but Josh can mess it up again!”

“HI, JOSHY-DADDY!” Charlie yells as she waves out the window, and then she scolds me. “Hurry, Mommy!”

Chapter Twelve

Josh

“She’s here, Josh, stop worrying,” Talon argues.

“Just because she’s physically in that building”—I point to the window I saw Charlie in before we came out back into the vineyard—“doesn’t mean she’s coming out.” I try to soften my expression for all of the people watching my brothers and me.

We’re a crew: Liam stands next to me as my best man, then it’s a crapshoot what kind of order the guys have themselves in, and I don’t care. Not to mention the fact that I have twice as many attendants as Sophie has bridesmaids.

And what does it even matter, if she doesn’t want to marry me??

“If you don’t calm down they’ll hear you in the front row of seats,” Liam says through his teeth while smiling as if everything is fine.

“I shouldn’t have given her the last letter.”

Jake says, “You’re making yourself crazy.”

“Yeah, and Connor should be here by now.”

“Hey, Josh?” Will starts. “Man, I was a real dick last night and—”

“Yeah, yeah you’re sorry,” Sam interrupts what could’ve been the apology of the fucking year! “Great timing.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK! “
Everything was perfect on the phone last night, but I just had to take it one step too far.”
I’m such an asshole.

“Maybe you did fuck it up,” Reese leans in closer to whisper. “But you can rest assured you’ve looked great doing it.”

“Man, you really are no help,” Caleb seethes in Reese’s direction.

“That’s my job,” quips Reese.

Nate puts in, “On my wedding day I felt like my veins were filled with electricity—hurt like a mother!”

“Do your veins feel like they’re filled with electricity?” Chase wants to know.

“No, man!” I tell him. “It feels more like fucking rocket fuel!”

All of a sudden they all go quiet.
Perfect!
“So that’s all you guys got?
Really
!?”

My eyes catch Ryder’s and I follow his gaze between the open rows of high-winding grapevines.

That’s when I hear Sophie’s chosen wedding march, The Goo Goo Dolls’ “All That You Are,” begin to play.

And standing there is my sister Jules, in a lightly metallic-gold sundress with a wide matching sash and shoes. She’s grinning from ear to ear!

The sight of Sophie’s first bridesmaid elates me! She can’t be far behind!

Right?

Livie comes next, then Britt, then Quinn, then Angie … and I really wish they’d walk a little freaking faster!! I feel the beads of nervous sweat roll down my back—
attractive
.

Connor should be up here by now giving me the “all’s okay” thumbs-up.
But he’s nowhere in sight!

Charlie rounds the corner and comes into the aisle. Her eyes and smile beam towards me like headlights on a dark and stormy night. I feel my face almost burst with the smile she puts there.

God, I love that little girl!

Charlie is so absolutely crowd stealing in her little white gown, tossing flower petals for her mother to walk over. They
ooooh
and
aaahhh
at her …

And me?
It’s all I can do stand still and not go running to find my bride.

Where is your mother???

I swear to God, my heart is going to pound right out of my chest!

How the fuck do guys survive this??

Then literally, it’s like time freezes.

My breath hitches in my chest. It’s her.

IT’S HER!!

She’s coming!!

My eyes lock with hers and I can’t pull away. I can’t look at her dress, or her hair, or shoes, or anything I think that I’m supposed to.

Her face is so incredibly beautiful and flushed and perfect, and she’s happy …

She’s fucking happy!!

My body sways forward. I pull back.

No! Don’t move.

She’s not going to say no. She’s going to say yes. All of her body language says she loves me, says she’s safe and confident.

Jesus Christ!
In less than the time it takes for a hummingbird’s wing to flutter, I remember that I almost lost her, and Charlie.

I have to touch her.

STAND STILL!

Then she smiles. It isn’t soft or shy—it’s alive and bright. The strength and fire in her eyes is like a universe of stars.

And it ignites the very core of my soul.

I rush towards her, because nothing else matters except for her.

Our eyes never lose contact and it’s the most powerful sensation I’ve ever experienced.

As my right arm wraps around her waist, my left hand dives up under her hair, and I hoist her up in the air and against me then spin her once around.

I’m full of joy and adrenaline and fire!

“Jesus Christ, Sophie, I love you!” I breathe into her face.

“I love you, Josh …” Tears come streaming down her face. “I love you so much!”

That’s all I need to hear her say. I ball her hair in my fist, press her head down so I can reach her, and take her mouth with mine. It’s the most ardent and passionate kiss, a kiss that both possesses and surrenders at once. With it she owns me—mind, body, heart and soul.

As if she’s just realized we’re standing in the middle of the aisle and I’ve completely broken protocol, I feel her lips curl up over mine as she begins to laugh. It’s perfect!

“You’re perfect!” I speak softly against her soft happy mouth.

Applause breaks out from our guests, and we receive a standing ovation.

“I love you, Josh North!” She twists her hand between us.

I look down and see the gold envelope wrapped around the stem of her bouquet.

“You’re the proud father of a beautiful little girl,” she announces.

“You signed the adoption papers?”

She nods. “Connor witnessed me sign them. Knowing just how far you were willing to go to be her daddy … best letter of all.”

“I love you, woman!” I squeeze her tighter—no way am I putting her down!

I bring us to Charlie, who’s giggling, and in one move I position Sophie on my right hip and scoop Charlie onto my left.

The entire crowd roars with laughter and more applause.

“Are we married yet?” Charlie asks, trying to figure out the commotion.

“Almost …” I gaze at Sophie and will her to feel all of my love. “What do you say, scrapper?”

“I say … Dare you … forever.”

Silk curtains of royal purple and sparkling gold dance and tangle in the sultry Indian Ocean breeze that floats through the windowsill. Lush white linens drape with sophisticated laziness over the four poster canopy bed. The walls are accented with dark, polished woodwork that was created artfully by master craftsmen. My first favorite part of our private bungalow on the pristine shores of the Indian Ocean is that the three adjoining sections are raised up on stilts over the bluest, clearest water I’ve ever seen—you can see the fish as they meander by. It’s an incredible place to make love. My second favorite part is the vibrant celebration of love and sex.

Within the rooms, beaches and gardens that surround us are opulent stone sculptures—replicas of the erotic statues of Khajurao—with subjects portrayed in various positions of lovemaking; flowers that line the paths pay tribute to the male and female genitalia, and of course, what self-respecting, sensual high-end Indian hotel would be complete without a pictorial guidebook—about one thousand pages long—on the positions of Kama Sutra?  Josh is already making arrangements to extend our stay until we have tried—and mastered—each one.

A sensual-spiritual honeymoon in India was Josh’s idea. I have a very smart husband.

But the Light Heavyweight champion of the world isn’t the only one with winning moves—like calling the resort ahead of time and having them install a platform with a stripper pole—it’s amazing what you can do with money. I had them disguise it as a curtained-off closet that I told Josh we really didn’t need to use, so he never bothered pulling back the curtain.

A little after lunch, I drag him into that room.

“Ready for some playtime?” I say as seductively as Mistress Kim.

He wears a cocky grin. “Hell yeah.”

“Good. First we’re going to get rid of …
this
.” I get nice and close to him so my breasts are touching his muscular chest and pull up and off his loose t-shirt.

He reaches down to unbutton his jeans.

“No, no … not yet,” I play-scold.

His eyebrows lift in surprise. “What do you have in mind?”

“It’s so hot to watch your dick get hard for me while it’s trapped underneath the denim of your jeans. Now sit.” I push him into a straight-backed chair.

His mouth pulls into a willing smile. “It smells very nice in here.”

“Jasmine.”

I let the robe I’m wearing fall down around my shoulders to give him a little peek while I turn to the bar and pour him a whiskey.

“Did you know that French kissing didn’t really originate in France?” I ask absentmindedly as I ready myself for his surprise.

“Serious?”

“Yep, ancient literature—namely the Kama Sutra—suggests it started right here in India.”

“I believe that,” Josh says.

I come back and place the cold drink in his hands. “You’re going to need this.”

I dip my finger in the glass, stir it around, and then paint his lips with the liquor. “My challenge is—how long can you take the heat?”

At that, I lick the wetness from his lips with my tongue. His mouth falls open slightly and I let my tongue slide inside, but just for a second. “That’s your first taste. Drink.”

Stepping back I let him have a deep pull from the glass.

“I hope that alcohol goes straight to your cock,” I tease and step backward, drinking his eyes with mine.

“Sophie,” he says questioningly.

“I have to make things fair, you know.”

“Yeah, fair.” He nods his head, not taking his eyes off me. “Nothing you’re doing right now is fair.”

“Oh, it’s so much more.”

I step behind the lavish fabric of the curtain. India’s sexual energy, as explained in the Kama Sutra, is all about igniting all of the senses—all of the sights, sounds, touches, tastes and scents are employed together to create a mind-blowing experience. 

“What are you doing behind that curtain?”

“Don’t get impatient,” I say. “Now, I know what you missed at your bachelor party, and I have to make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me …” he says with expectation with a hint of question.

“The most difficult decision was deciding exactly how to do it.”

“I really want the ‘do it’ part.”

“In time.”

I ready myself another moment then say, “Okay, champion—you’re going down.”

“Oh Christ, I hope so.”

I pull the curtain, and in one swoop it becomes my backdrop.

Josh’s mouth drops to the floor and he leans forward on his seat. “Holy hot fuck!”

“Are you ready for the show, fighter?”

I’m barely dressed in a liquid onyx peek-a-boo outfit with strips of leather that do nothing more than hide my nipples and push my breasts up. Thin leather straps slide down to the micro-est miniskirt, G-string, and laced leather ties go from my seductive black suede high heeled platform pumps all the way to my thighs. It’s a rocking outfit.

Josh pulls a long hissing breath through his teeth as his hands move from the tops of his thighs to his knees and back up again—probably to help re-navigate some blood flow.

I tap my foot on the remote control for the room’s sound system, then shove it out of the way.

Warrant’s “Cherry Pie” wafts through the speakers and subwoofers, and I can feel the bass thump in my body.

“Tonight I’m your wife and your slave queen—and your wish is my desire to fulfill.” Hot words that could easily have me in hysteric embarrassment, but the wide-eyed hunger and appreciation in my man’s gaze tells me I’m doing it just right.

I kick my leg up then wrap it around the pole and let myself slide to the floor. I spread my legs wide and, planting my feet, reach up, grip the pole and lift myself back up, making sure to let my head and hair hang back low as my breasts follow me up. Slowly I gyrate then slide the cool metal pole between my legs.

I don’t look at him—I can’t yet! I’m not exactly demure, but shy—yeah.

Don’t think, Soph, just do.

I face the pole, turning my back to him, and calculatedly shake my ass by alternating my hips up and down and bending my knees. I’m not much of a dancer, but I watched a lot of Shakira videos to prepare for this moment.

Holding the pole, I swing down to the side, this time catching his eyes. The expression on his face like he’s going to lick every inch of my skin and fuck me into oblivion by the time he’s done with me is well worth it.