Going...Going...Wed (Wife, Inc. #1)
Page 36"Not to me. It's something you have to do right now."
She smiled. "How far you've come, Alexander," she marveled. "It's amazing. More so that you did it alone. I'm impressed as hell."
His heart, he swore, swelled and shot to the sun. "Thanks, Maddy. That means a lot to me."
"How much?" She puckered her lips like a fish.
"Much." Smiling, he slid his hand behind her neck, tipping her head to lay his mouth over hers in a slow kiss. Wind buffeted them, tearing her hair loose and spreading it across his face like spilled silk. He tried for calm, for patience, when he wanted to crush her to him and feel every lush inch of her against him.
"More," she muttered against his lips, inching closer. "I can feel your restraint. Don't hide how you feel. Not from me, please."
In a heartbeat, he dragged her onto his lap, and she curled around him, her arms around his neck and her fingers in his hair. She devoured him, aching so deeply in her belly for him – for the boy he'd been, the man he'd become and the lover he wanted to be. She'd never met a man who tried so hard to not want her or who kissed like madness and made her wish she'd dumped her virtue years before. Especially when he ran his hands over her hips and down her legs as if she'd disappear. She worked her hands under his shirt, rubbing his chest, her thumbs rasping over his nipples before diving lower.
He groaned, deepening his kiss and was laying her back on the bench when the reel snapped, then spun rapidly. She broke the kiss, smiling at his disappointment. "Here, fishy, fishy." She kissed him once more, hard and quick, then scrambled off his lap to stop the line. Reeling the line in, she glanced back. He was rubbing his thighs and breathing hard. His arousal tented his khaki shorts.
She felt exotic and powerful. "My, my. What a nice compliment." He threw her a dark look. "It's the justice of nature that women don't have so obvious a sign."
"Oh, yeah?" His gaze lowered meaningfully to her breasts, her nipples thrusting against the navy T-shirt.
"Cold air."
"It's eighty degrees out," he countered wryly, loving her sly smile.
The rod jerked, and she focused on the fish, calling, "Come to Mama, fishy."
Alex watched her fight the biggest fish he'd ever seen, laughing as it nearly snapped the rod, then catching her around the waist when it almost took her into the water to avoid capture. Her excitement was his, and he made a big deal of it, taking her picture with it on the bow of the sailboat. The fish wiggled on the hook, its tail slapping her shoulder, and she suddenly rushed to the rail and released it, shouting, "Be free, escape!" before falling into his arms, laughing wildly.
Fish stink and all, Alex swore it was the best time he'd ever had.
The instant they stepped into the suite the phone rang.
"Angus. We were just changing to – oh, no kidding." Alex covered the phone. "Bridgett went into labor this morning. He's calling from the hospital."
She smiled. "Does Randy need help with Shannon?"
Alex relayed the message, thinking how easily she offered her help. He shook his head at her, then gave Angus his cell phone number and asked if he'd call with the news. Angus assured him this wouldn't delay the renewal of his and Laura's vows on Saturday.
He hung up, slipping around the door of the bathroom, watching her wash her face and brush the tangles from her hair. "Wanna do something? We're free for awhile."
"Like what?"
His smoldering gaze roamed her from head to toe. "I could think of one or two things, and we wouldn't have to leave the room."
He grinned, utterly fascinated as she freshened her lipstick.
"There's a festival this afternoon and street dance tonight."
"Great," he said. "Let's go."
"Let me change first."
He looked down at her white shorts and navy T-shirt as she left the bathroom. "Madison. You look fine."
"Ick, no. I'm wearing fish slime." She flicked through clothes hanging in the closet. He folded his arms over his chest and frowned, impatient. "It's a girl thing, deal with it," she said, closing the bathroom door in his face.
The rewards of living with her, he thought, was seeing her as she really was. While dating, people put their best foot forward, often artificial, but Madison didn't disguise a thing. She'd rather be outside than in, dine from a vendor's cart than in a restaurant. She wanted to make the bed, though housekeeping would, yet misplaced things constantly, raking through her drawers and bags in search of the elusive item. She tossed her shoes in the closet in a pile while his were in neat rows.