by Claire Raye
“I don’t want you to go, Ava,” I continue. “I want you here with me.”
She looks up at me, tears now filling her eyes. “I don’t want to go either,” she whispers. “I…” she pauses, swallowing hard again. “I don’t know how…how this has happened, but…I…god, I love you too.”
I slam my mouth hard against hers, not caring about the rest. Ava’s hands fist the material of my t-shirt, pulling me closer as I fold her into me, picking her up and walking us back to the bedroom.
As soon as we hit the bed, we tear at each other’s clothes, hungry and urgent, desperate for each other in a way that’s so different to all the other times we’ve done this. I feel an overwhelming need to be close to her, to be inside her so I can prove that she’s all I want, all I need.
“Lewis,” she whispers as we fall back onto the bed.
“I’m here,” I tell her, my mouth on hers as we both finally get naked, skin to skin with nothing between us.
I had every intention of fucking her hard, of possessing her so she knew how I felt about her. But now that we’re here, I can’t. Smoothing my fingers over her cheek, her jaw, her neck, I pull back a little, so my eyes meet hers.
“I don’t want anyone but you, Ava,” I whisper. “You, are it for me. Always.”
A tear slides down her cheek and I lean down and kiss it away as she murmurs my name. Nothing has ever sounded sweeter, hotter.
“I love you,” I whisper, my forehead on hers.
“I love you too.”
I slide inside her, our bodies joined, our hearts pounding together, chest to chest. She kisses me, hard and hungry and I return it, my hands on her skin, my hips moving slowly against hers.
I always thought fucking a woman was the hottest thing in the world.
I always thought making love was the cheesiest fucking cliché ever.
But fuck me if I don’t realize the difference right now.
Because that’s exactly what I do and it’s because I love her. I love her like I have never loved anything else in the world.
Afterward, she’s lying in my arms, our legs entwined.
“Can I ask you about her?” she asks, head on my shoulder as she looks up at me.
I brush her hair back, smiling at her. “Of course, what do you want to know?”
“Has she ever been more?”
I exhale, because I know exactly what she’s asking me. “No,” I say. “She hasn’t. We fooled around once, a long time ago, but it was nothing, and never has been since.”
“How long ago?” she asks, brows scrunched.
I rub my thumb against the crinkle between her brows, smoothing it out. “Like high school long ago. It was nothing,” I say.
“Really?”
“Ava,” I pause leaning in to kiss her. “She is a friend, nothing more. I promise you there has never been anything between us. Ever.”
She exhales, laying her head back on my shoulder as her hand circles my ribs and slides down my body. She brushes a finger against the inside of my right wrist and I smile.
“For that silly mutt,” I say, referring to the small daisy flower tattooed on my skin. “The only woman inked into my skin.”
She lifts her head, chin resting on my chest now as she watches me.
“Tell me about your family,” I say, running a thumb along her bottom lip. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
She traces a finger along my brow, over the small scar I have at the end, next to my temple. “Three brothers,” she replies, a smile tugging at her mouth. “All older.”
“Fuck,” I say, chuckling. “I’ll bet that was fun for all your former boyfriends.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “You worried?”
“Hell no!” I say, hand sliding down her back to her arse.
“What about you?” she asks. “Any brothers or sisters?”
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “Only child.”
She smiles. “And your parents really got married after only fourteen days.”
“Yep.”
“When were you born?”
I chuckle. “Three years later,” I say. “So no, not a shotgun wedding.”
“Huh,” she murmurs, bottom lip between her teeth.
I curl my hands around her ribs, pull her up my body so she’s lying on top of me as I stare up at her. “We should get married,” I whisper.
“We should?” she asks, her body tensing in my arms.
I lean up and kiss her neck, feel her pulse pounding beneath her skin. “Yes,” I whisper.
“Isn’t this all…” she pauses, her hands sliding beneath my back. “Too fast?”
“No,” I tell her, my eyes finding hers again. “When it feels right, Ava, it doesn’t matter how fast it happens.”
She stares down at me, biting her bottom lip again, her blue eyes wide and full of questions. “But we barely…”
“Ava,” I smile. “We do, you know we do.” I brush the hair back from her face, cupping it in my hands. “You know this is real between us,” I whisper.
Ava nods. “I do,” she says quietly. “Sometimes it feels surreal,” she adds. “And fast and totally crazy and beyond comprehension, but…” She trails off.
“But what?” I prompt.
She takes a deep breath, a tiny smile tugging at her mouth. “But I know it’s real,” she whispers, another tear falling. I brush it away with my thumb. “I missed you when I left,” she adds. “My heart broke walking away from you.”
“Mine too,” I tell her, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.
“This…” she pauses again, taking another deep breath. “It scares me a little, because this is not the kind of thing I normally do,” she adds. “I don’t take days off and I don’t walk into bars late at night, don’t sleep with sexy bartenders or move in with them or…”
“Sexy huh?” I ask, grinning at her.
She pinches my side, smiling at me, even as her cheeks flush a little. “Dirty, hot and sexy,” she whispers against my mouth. “The second you looked at me like you are now, I knew I was gone. When you smiled at me, it…it did…well, you know,” she adds, her blush deepening
My grin widens as a laugh falls from my mouth. “My sweet, sweet girl,” I say, kissing her again. “Did you almost just talk dirty to me?”
Ava laughs now, burying her face against my neck, her lips against my skin. I feel her bite me gently, before sucking and kissing my skin and my eyes close in bliss.
I don’t care how quick this seems or how crazy this feels or what anyone else thinks about it, I know what I want.
And it’s her, only her.
Easing her up so she’s looking at me again, my eyes meet hers. Swiping a thumb along her cheekbone, I smile up at her, willing her to believe what I’m about to tell her. Begging her to take a chance on us, on this thing we both know is happening here, without caring about what anyone else will think.
“I love you, Ava,” I say, our eyes locked. “I don’t care that it’s quick and I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I want to be your husband, I want you to be my wife,” I add, pausing to kiss her softly. “No one else matters here. Nothing else matters, but you.”
“Lewis,” she whispers, her eyes filling with tears again,
“Marry me?”
Chapter Six
Ava
Call it impulsive, but here we are standing outside the registry office with a stack of paperwork shoved in my purse. The excitement radiating from Lewis is contagious and I giggle a little as he holds the door open for me. His eyes are sparkling, his cheeks flushed as I walk past him and enter the large lobby.
I look around and wonder if this is really happening and then my eyes float down to the ring on my finger taking me back to the exact moment when I said yes.
He asked me exactly seven days ago.
“Marry me?” Lewis said, his smile wide and beaming. I could practically feel the excitement exuding from him and everything I felt was mirrored in his eyes.
I didn’t hesitate for a second, the word yes falling from my mouth like it was meant to be said, like it was meant for Lewis.
“Say it again,” he said, but this time he reached into his nightstand and pulled out an unmistakable robin’s egg blue box.
The gasp that fell from my lips could be heard from anywhere in his house, and my thoughts swirled with a million questions.
Obviously what we were doing was completely insane. We’d had a whirlwind three months together, but never really delving deep enough for it to be meaningful. And now here we were, getting engaged.
But engaged didn’t mean married.
People got engaged all the time and it never materialized into anything more.
I wasn’t going to be one of those people.
I was marrying Lewis.
“Yes,” I repeated, my words breathy and desperate as he opened the box to reveal the most amazing ring I’d ever laid eyes on.
It was a pear-shaped diamond with a diamond-encrusted band and the center stone had to be at least five carats.
“Lewis, why in the world do you have a ring like that sitting in your nightstand?” I asked not only appalled at the fact that he just had it sitting out in the open, but also why he just had a ring like that on the ready.
“It was my great-grandmother’s and when she passed away, it was given to me.”
He grabbed for my hand and slipped the ring onto my finger, and like everything else that has happened with us, the ring fit perfectly.
“See,” Lewis announced, “Meant to be.”
The ring sparkles, glittering and shining under the florescent lights of the government building.
“Second time’s the charm,” Lewis jokes, his arm now around my shoulders, pulling me into his side and kissing my temple.
“I think the phrase is ‘third time’s the charm’, but who’s checking?” I wink at him and he chuckles a little.
“I’m not waiting for a third time.” His words are firm, but his hold on my body is comforting and calming.
We’d come right over to the registry office after he proposed in the hopes of getting married immediately. But oddly enough it’s not like the movies. Since I was in the country on a work visa, there was a seven-day waiting period. But Lewis made sure the lady working the desk that day, and everyone within an earshot, knew that we would be back in seven days.
We were allowed to apply for our license, but couldn’t legally get married until I chilled in the country for a bit. The woman actually called it a cooling off period as if we’d change our minds. She told Lewis that most people don’t return and the license expires after twenty-eight days. This woman doesn’t know anything about Lewis. Bound and determined to prove her wrong, we are literally back here seven days later at the exact time they open.
The place is empty this time and we walk right up to the window with Lewis plunking down our paperwork along with my passport and a copy of my work visa.
“We’re getting married today,” Lewis says, the woman not bothering to look up as she shuffles through some papers on her desk, but when she does, she smiles.
“You’re back,” she says with a nod of her head, taking our paperwork in through her window.
Lewis is hard to forget and it’s not just the tattoos. He’s stunning, like model gorgeous with deep brown eyes the color of chocolate, which are offset by his disheveled dirty blonde hair. And even though his body is fully covered with clothes, it’s not hard to tell that he’s got a body that could bring a girl to her knees.
And trust me, it has.
He’s charming and witty and funny, and when he busts out his signature smirk, even the lady behind the counter flushes pink.
“Of course I’m back. I’m not gonna let this girl get away.”
The woman slides a few sheets of tabbed paper through the window and asks us to sign it, and when I set my hand down on the counter the woman notes my ring, her eyes widening when she takes in its size.
“Don’t let him get away either,” she states, her eyes flicking from my ring and then to Lewis and back to me.
I’m sort of taken aback by her assumption that my attachment to Lewis has to do with the size of my ring.
“It was his great-grandmother’s,” I tell the woman, almost as if I’m trying to defend what we’re doing here. There’s going to be judgment coming at us from all directions and this lady’s comment is the first of many.
Right as Lewis signs his name, I’m hit with the sudden realization that we’re going to have to tell V at some point, and holy shit is she going to be pissed.
I haven’t seen her since the breakfast incident, and neither has Lewis. Not wanting to pry, I haven’t asked him if he’s going to talk to her, and a part of me wonders if it’s because I’m not prepared to hear how much she still disagrees with our relationship.
But then my thoughts move to my own family and for a second I wonder if I can convince Lewis to have an actual wedding and pretend it’s our real one, as if we aren’t standing here right now doing this without anyone knowing. My brothers are going to be pissed since they haven’t had a chance to put Lewis through the ringer. My parents will question why I’ve made such a rash decision. But the more I think about it, the more I don’t give a shit.
I’ve spent the last ten years of my life working to please other people, working to make sure everyone else’s life is in order and never living mine. That day off Julia gave me all those months ago was absolutely terrifying, but it was also exhilarating. It was the first time I actually felt like I was living.
My life came alive the moment I met Lewis.
So marrying him right now without anyone’s input is exactly where I want to be. I bask in the feeling of nervousness as my heart races in my chest, slamming against my ribs. I commit to memory the smell of Lewis’ skin and what he’s wearing and the way his smile makes my stomach flutter.
The woman cuts through my thoughts as she says, “Well, you know that means, don’t you?” And she rubs her fingers together as if she were fanning out a wad of cash.
I just smile at her, wanting her to move this process along so we can get on with our day. Lewis seems oblivious to the crass nature of this woman’s comment, but that doesn’t surprise me. Nothing fazes him. His aloof nature is something most people don’t have.
It only takes a few minutes more before the woman calls over the person sitting near her and they both sign our marriage license as witnesses. After handing all our paperwork back to us, she tells us we are now officially married.
Lewis lets out a loud, “yes” as he throws a clenched fist into the air. And then his arms circle my waist, swinging me around. Everything about this is totally mind-blowing. Any feeling of jetlag that was lingering has disappeared and in its place is an overwhelming rush of adrenaline. I want to shout it from the rooftops!
I’m fucking married!
Setting me down Lewis threads his fingers through mine, bringing my hand to his lips, he kisses it softly before spinning me around again and planting a hard kiss against my lips.
“One more stop,” he says, his lips now next to my ear, my smile wide and on display for everyone to see. “Then I can take you home and consummate our marriage, Mrs. Bristol.”
The way he says consummate sends a shiver down my spine, his words shooting right to my center. I practically shudder in his arms and I feel his lips turn up into a smile against the shell of my ear.
“Maybe our stop will have to wait,” he growls, his fingers now slipping under my sweater and brushing my overheated skin. “You’re already wet for me.”
“Lewis,” I scold. “We’re in a public place.”
“You fucking love it and don’t tell me I’m wrong. I know your body and right now it wants me to fuck it.”
“It does,” I admit, breathlessly. “Take me home.”
With his hand in mine, he begins to stride toward the exit, yelling out a thank you to woman who just married us.
H
e’s silent when we hit the sidewalk, not saying much, but seemingly in a hurry to get us home and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t all hot and bothered and ready from him to do exactly what he said he would do.
But we don’t head back to Lewis’ house, instead he opens the door to an unassuming staircase right off the sidewalk. Still not speaking, I panic and wonder if he’s taking us immediately to V’s house to let her know what we’ve just done. She’d kill the high we’re both riding right now.
I’m so not ready to deal with her.
But the farther we go up the stairs, I notice it’s definitely not someone’s house.
“Lewis, where are we going?” I ask, tugging on his hand, making him slow just a little.
“You’ll see,” he says, smiling back at me, but there’s something wild about it, a fire in his eyes, an intensity that makes me not regret my decision to marry him for one second.
He stops at a black door, knocking once and then bouncing from one foot to another as he waits. The door opens quickly and on the other side is a man covered with more tattoos than Lewis, who doesn’t bother with a greeting. His eyes shoot over to me and he looks me up and down, but there’s nothing uncomfortable about it.
I get it.
I don’t really belong in Lewis’ world.
“Lewis, mate, who’s your lady?” the guy says, his accent far thicker than Lewis’ as if he’s from a different part of the country. He’s older than both of us and smells of cigarettes and mints as if he’s trying to mask the smell of smoke. Reaching out to shake Lewis’ hand, he pulls him in for a hug, but as he pulls away, a realization comes over his face, his eyes narrowing and his mouth turning up in a small grin.
“Ah, you must be the beautiful Ava,” he says, his stab in the dark a success, but could’ve been an awkward failure.
I look over at Lewis, a lightness in my chest, a warmth radiating through my body as I lean into him. He’s talked about me to people, so much so that they already know who I am.
I’ve always trusted him fully when he said I was it for him, but this confirmation just affirms that what we are doing has never felt more right.
