All of Me

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “I know what I promised about this morning,” he says, “but do you know how hot it makes me to think about you being my wife?”

  And that’s all it takes. I sway toward him, and just like that, we snap. Suddenly we’re kissing, his hands cupping my backside as he lifts me and sets me on the entryway table, tugging his shirt up.

  Then I hear a car door slam, and my eyes open. The next sound I hear is Katie’s voice.

  “Oh God. The window. The window by the door, Chris.”

  He lifts me and sets me against the door, out of view of prying eyes.

  “That was so close,” I say. “I didn’t even hear the car.”

  “Why is she here?”

  “To help me get ready, and probably to split us up. Which means it’s already noon.”

  He glances through the glass pane next to the door and laughs. “Can you imagine her face if she’d caught us?”

  The doorbell rings, and I push to my toes and kiss him. “Do you know how hot it makes me to think about you being my husband?”

  And then I dart away, laughing when he groans. I think it’s safe to say we’re both looking forward to tonight.

  • • •

  Appalled that Chris and I spent the night together, Katie chides us for our bad wedding etiquette and hovers as I shower and pack. I have a few minutes alone as I finish gathering my things, then I head to the kitchen to find Chris and Katie standing by the coffeepot. I have no makeup on, my hair isn’t done, and I’m wearing his Harley T-shirt with a pair of sweats. He looks his normal biker hottie self, with jeans, a T-shirt, his leather jacket, and biker boots on. I drool.

  “This instead of the tux,” I say. “I approve.”

  His eyes light with mischief. “I’ll wear this if you wear my T-shirt,” he says, clearly referencing our hallway encounter. “Or not.”

  Katie steps between us. “Stop it, you two. You aren’t even supposed to see each other until the wedding.” She turns to me. “I booked a massage for you in fifteen minutes. It’ll relax you.”

  My throat thickens. “Massage? No. I just . . .”

  Chris drapes his arm over my shoulder. “She doesn’t like other people touching her. Unless it’s me.”

  I don’t know how he knows this. Maybe I’ve told him. Or maybe it’s just the way Chris gets me. But since Michael, I’m weird about being touched. It’s part of what made my intense physical reactions to Chris so surprising from the beginning.

  She looks at Chris, her gaze soft, and I’m certain she senses he’s being a big, protective bear. “Sure, no massage.” The doorbell rings. “I’ll go tell her the massage is cancelled, then we should head to the chateau.”

  She leaves me alone with Chris and I face him. “You knew.”

  “Of course I knew.”

  “I trusted you from the beginning. It’s like some part of me just knew you were safe.”

  Katie pops her head in the door. “Let’s go. And break it up, you two.”

  He grabs me and kisses me firmly. “See you soon, baby.”

  I back up and wave and then turn and follow Katie outside, aware that the next time I see Chris, it will be to say “I do.”

  The idea has me smiling as I slide into Katie’s BMW.

  • • •

  The tight security to get onto the chateau grounds should be comforting, but it reminds me of all the people arriving soon. All the vendor trucks and people running around don’t make the tremors in my stomach any better, either. Katie and I exit the car, and I’m pleased that it’s sunny and on the warm side, though it’s two o’clock now and the ceremony is at six, right at sunset, and I expect it will be chilly then.

  I glance toward the steps leading to the chateau, relieved to see Jacob and Blake by the front door, both wearing Walker Security T-shirts. The instant they see us, they break away from several other men to approach and Blake whistles.

  “The bride has arrived.”

  “Yes, and she needs to be protected.”

  “Oh?” he asks, sounding serious. “From what?”

  “Tripping over my own feet in front of all these famous people coming today.”

  “I’ve never seen you fall,” Jacob assures me. “Though I do remember ripped pantyhose and a lot of sand once.”

  I blush, remembering that incident well myself. Chris had come home from Dylan’s funeral. We’d fought, and ended up making love on the beach. Later, we’d tried to sneak into the garage unnoticed, but Jacob had busted us. “Thanks for that memory, Jacob. I feel better already.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” he says with a wink. “But seriously. We’re here. We’ve got your back in all things.”

  “Thank you. You sure we can’t hire you away from Mark and Crystal?”

  “Chris is too private to have me following you two around like I do them.”

  I glance around as a car pulls up, and I’m excited to see Chantal and her mother emerge, and unsurprised when Rey gets out of the front of the car. Chantal rushes to me and gives me one of her customary hugs, and I realize that, in general, I don’t mind being touched the way I used to. Because of Chris.

  “Do you want to see the ceremony area?” Katie asks, joining us, while Blake and Jacob move on to take care of business.

  “Yes, please.”

  Rey heads off to help the security crew, but not before whispering in Chantal’s ear. She’d returned to the lunch table yesterday and said nothing about kissing him in the hallway, so I’m dying of curiosity. She and I follow Katie and her mother through the chateau to inspect the ceremony area out back, stopping first at the reception area. There is a rose ice sculpture and plenty of flowers, and while the Paris scene on the chocolate cake is impressive, my favorite cake is the three-tiered strawberry one with elaborate roses on the edges.

  After our tour and inspection, there is a lunch that I only nibble at. Shortly after, Katie delivers me and Chantal to a sitting room and orders, “Rest until the hair and makeup people get here. It’s going to be an adrenaline rush later that will drain you.”

  She leaves and we enter a room with a gigantic couch, a vanity and chair, and a tall, triple-paned standing mirror. But it’s what’s hanging on the mirror that has my attention.

  My dress, in all its rose-etched glory.

  Chantal steps to my side. “It’s even more gorgeous than I remember.”

  “It is. It really is.”

  “Come on,” she urges. “Let’s lie down and rest. I’m up for a fifteen-minute snooze.” She sits down on the couch and pulls off one of the throw blankets on the back.

  I join her, taking the second blanket. “Because you were with Rey last night?”

  Her eyes go wide. “How did you know?”

  “I saw you kiss him yesterday by the bathroom.”

  She smiles. “He kissed me—or at least, that’s how it started. Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because I needed to think first.”

  “And?”

  “And I don’t know.” She kicks off her tennis shoes and turns to sit against the end of the couch, her knees to her chest.

  I do the same, prodding, “What does that mean?”

  “It means I’m nervous with Rey. He could hurt me, Sara. I could fall hard for him.” She laughs without humor. “Who am I kidding? I already have. It terrifies me, and yet I need him in this really intense way.”

  “Does he return your feelings?”

  “He doesn’t talk about feelings. He just says he’s bad for me, but he can’t seem to walk away. He pretty much ordered me not to see Tristan again.”

  “And you said?”

  “Considering he was naked and in bed with me at the time, I said I wouldn’t. Besides, Tristan and I were about mutual heartache and escape. Rey had rejected me, and Tr
istan had lost Amber. We helped each other. The connection beyond that doesn’t exist.

  “Rey is different. All he has to do is look at me, and I feel him in all kinds of crazy ways. And I think I make him feel the same. Isn’t that what we all want? To be with someone who consumes us? Who makes us want to give them all that we are, even though it’s terrifying?”

  “Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, it is. But they have to deserve all of you, Chantal. Make sure Rey does before you give it to him.”

  “The way Chris does?”

  “Yes. The way Chris does.”

  “No cold feet at all?”

  “None. Chris has all of me.”

  • • •

  Chantal leaves to get herself ready when the makeup and hair women arrive. I change into the sexy white bra and panty set I bought for today, with thigh-highs and garters. My face is then soaked in some sort of mask, and after that the true styling process begins. Once my hair and makeup are done, the two of them help me into my dress without mishap.

  I’m standing in front of the mirror, admiring the long, sheer sleeves of the dress when a knock sounds and Katie pokes her head in. “Need help?” She quickly enters the room, shutting us inside, her face glowing with excitement. “You are such a beautiful bride. I’d worried about you not having a veil, but you’re elegance personified. Absolute perfection.”

  “Thank you. I hope Chris thinks so, too.”

  “Of course he will. And I’ve never seen that man nervous until today. He’s very eager to have his wife by his side.”

  “Chris doesn’t get nervous.”

  “He’s pacing, and on his sketch pad he’s drawn everything from stick people to someone’s coffee cup.”

  “Stick people? Chris? Okay, maybe he is nervous.”

  She glances at her watch. “They should be ready for you in five minutes. I’m going to check on things. Don’t sit, or you’ll get wrinkled.” She exits and isn’t gone more than a minute before a knock sounds on the door.

  I open it and peek around to find Mark standing there. “I’d ask how you got to me, but something tells me it involved Jacob or Blake.”

  “It did,” he confirms, and I open the door.

  Mark steps inside the room, consuming it as he does most rooms he enters, looking his normal, immaculate, good-looking self in a blue pinstriped suit and matching tie. “You look lovely, Sara. Chris is a lucky man, and I just finished telling him that.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes. I did. I asked his permission to come and talk to you. I was hurting and in denial, just like you said I was the night I tried to kiss you. I tried to break you and Chris up, and it ended up delivering me to the doorstep of the woman I plan to call my wife. And she’s an amazing woman. She wouldn’t let me deny what Rebecca was to me, then or now. I am forever in your debt. Anything you need, just ask. And when I say you, I mean both you and Chris.”

  “Thank you, Mark. I’m so happy you’ve found a way to heal with Crystal.”

  “It’s a work in progress, but I’m getting there. I asked Chris to be my best man.”

  “Now you’re going to make me cry and mess up my makeup.”

  “No tears, Ms. McMillan. That’s an order.” He closes the space between us and hugs me, holding me for a long moment. “You have affected my life in ways I’m not sure you’ll ever fully understand.” He releases me and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

  When the door opens again, it’s Katie. “It’s time, honey.”

  “Oh,” I whisper, nerves exploding inside me. “It’s time.”

  “Your man is already in the gazebo, waiting for you.”

  I step into the hallway and Mike is waiting, looking sharp in a tuxedo. “I have the rings.” He takes my arm. “And now I have the beautiful bride.”

  I cling to his arm. “Thank you. I feel unsteady.”

  “I won’t let you fall. And I promise you, neither will Chris.”

  There’s a tiny pinch in my chest at his sincerity, and a wish that my father could say such things and mean them, but I quickly shove it aside. “I know,” I say, eager to get to Chris.

  Jacob and Blake are at the exit when I arrive, and Jacob hands me my bouquet, giving me a grand bow before he opens the door for me. I pause and kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks for taking good care of us.”

  “What about me?” Blake demands.

  “You stole Jacob from us. You get no kiss.” I walk out of the chateau with Mike, and freeze with the realization that hundreds of eyes are upon me.

  Then the music starts, and goose bumps rise on my skin. This is it. This is where Chris and I have been headed since the day we met. My feet carry me forward as I scan the crowd, and I find Chantal sitting with Rey, several famous artists I’ve only dreamed of meeting, Gina Ray, the famous actress who’d come to my aid when I’d faced Michael in Los Angeles. . . . The list goes on.

  I hold tight to Mike, focusing on the words of the song. ’Cause it’s you and me and all of the people . . .

  I clutch my flowers.

  Nothing to lose, nothing to prove. And I don’t know why I can’t keep my eyes off of you.

  I step onto the bridge and finally see Chris. He steps to the center on the other side, looking like pure masculine perfection in his tuxedo. His eyes meet mine, and everything else fades. No one else matters. It’s just me and him.

  I’m steadier, my pace quicker now, and when Mike releases my arm, I step in front of Chris.

  His hands go to my waist and he pulls me to him, his eyes warm with promise. “You look beautiful, Sara.”

  “I can’t believe we’re finally doing this.”

  “Finally,” he echoes as the music stops and we step under the pink rose-covered gazebo. We stand in front of the preacher, facing each other.

  The ceremony starts and Chris and I stare at each other, the words barely registering for me. I hear the call for the rings, though, and the preacher gives me Chris’s ring. I take it, my hands trembling so badly, I can’t get it on him.

  Chris takes it, and my hand. “Easy, baby. We’re almost there.”

  I nod and the preacher says, “Repeat after me, Sara. With this ring, I thee wed.”

  “With this ring, I thee wed,” I say, and my voice shakes as badly as my hands.

  Chris takes my rose-etched band from the preacher and places it on my finger, and he doesn’t wait for instructions. “With this ring, I thee wed.” Then he pulls me to him, leaning down to whisper in my ear, “You are the reason I breathe.” He eases back and cups my face. “Every reason.” He kisses me, deeply, passionately, and I’m clinging to him, this man who has healed my broken pieces.

  The preacher clears his throat, and Chris reluctantly tears his mouth from mine, as I do his.

  And then we hear the words where everything past and present comes together: “I now pronounce you man and wife.” The preacher steps to us and turns us to the crowd. “Allow me to proudly introduce Mr. and Mrs. Chris Merit.”

  • • •

  Hours later, our magical evening is far from over. Chris and I are finally back in our apartment in San Francisco, and I am naked, sitting on a chair on Chris’s orders. He’s naked, too, gloriously, wonderfully naked, a palette and a paintbrush in his hand as he goes down on one knee in front of me. “I’m going to paint you, Sara.”

  “Paint me? As in my skin?”

  “That’s right. All of you—because that’s the only thing that will ever be enough.”

  Dear Readers:

  Thank you for taking this journey with the Inside Out characters, who have become so dear to my heart. I always knew Rebecca’s fate, and how profoundly she would affect the many lives she touched. I also always knew Ella’s future, and I have long planned her three-book journey and can’t wait to share her story with you. Stay tuned for her to tell you her story herself!


  Lisa

  Can't get enough of the Inside Out series?

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  Rebecca's Lost Journals

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  If I Were You

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  About the Author

  Lisa Renee Jones is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than forty books that have been translated around the world. Her highly acclaimed Inside Out series is now in development for a cable television show produced by Suzanne Todd (Alice in Wonderland). She loves to hear from readers.

  The Inside Out series by

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