by J. J. Bella
Now curiosity got the better of me, and I slipped to the area where there was a full-length mirror, wanting to see myself. If they thought it looked good, then it must be good, right? Reaching the mirror, I stepped forward quickly.
I gasped at what I saw.
The dress fit me perfectly this time—a mixture of white lace and crystals, one that started off my shoulder and fit me to the waist, then flowed into a long skirt to cover my legs. White lace covered my arms like dainty sleeves, and the train at the back of my skirt flowed long.
I did look like a princess.
My hair and makeup were just as perfect for me. My hair was pulled up in an elegant chignon-type braid, curly tendrils tamed. The makeup and hair artist put in little crystal beads that made it twinkle subtly whenever I moved my head. My makeup was light, touches of gold and pink that was barely there. All I knew was that my face looked glowing.
I was glowing.
I had been wary at first when the wedding planner showed me the gown she had in mind, because I’d wanted to just wear a plain white dress and be done with it. The one she’d chosen was classy and elegant without looking extravagant, and I realized now that the look fit me well. My heels made me look slightly taller than I was, and the overall effect was just…magic.
I was in awe and wanted to admire the details of what I was wearing all day—but it was time to leave. When everything was done, Sara ushered me to the bridal car, where she accompanied me and held my hand. She tried to keep a steady conversation going, but I was so distracted that I could barely answer. But she pushed on, squeezing my hand from time to time and telling me that everything was going to be alright and not to worry. I nodded my head and squeezed her hand back, grateful that I’d chosen her to be the first person at my side.
We got to church in no less than two minutes, and I was ushered to the side so I wouldn’t see the guests and vice versa. I was pretty sure Peter was already inside, and the thought of him had something fluttering in my stomach. I banked it down and watched as Isla hobbled over towards me, her fingers touching the beads in wonder.
“Can I also wear this on my wedding?” she asked, seriously.
I was pretty sure Peter would have a fit just thinking about Isla getting married to some guy, considering how protective he was. I stifled a laugh and patted her hair, then bent over to give her a hug. She protested that she was crushing my gown, but I didn’t mind.
“You can wear this when you get married…when you’re way older,” I said.
She giggled. I watched everyone get ready, the wedding planner calling out everyone’s positions. Then the music came on, a gentle piano melody that both Peter and I had chosen. The march started, and I waited in anticipation beside my father, who was eyeing me quietly.
“You okay there, sweetheart?”
I gave him the thumbs up sign. “Yes. Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“Was it as nerve-wrecking for mom when it was her wedding?”
He nodded. “I’m pretty sure it was. It’s the bride’s special day, and I’m sure she was a mixture of anxiety and excitement. She was also very beautiful.”
The tone in his voice had me smiling. I looked up at him. “How about you? Were you nervous?”
“I was more nervous than your mother,” he admitted. “I was the wreck because I couldn’t keep still. And then she came out, and all I could see was her.”
It was the sweetest thing ever, and I grinned at him. “You? Really?”
“Yep. I’m pretty sure Peter isn’t any different.”
I scoffed. “It’s his second wedding.”
“Honey, it doesn’t matter. What matters is his love for the bride. Trust me. He’s going to be a wreck, too.”
I almost bit my lip, then realized it was going to ruin my lipstick. So I held on to my dad and waited until Sara winked at me and moved forward. Then the music changed, and I heard feet scuffling as everyone stood up. Dad placed my hand on his elbow and squeezed it.
“Showtime,” he murmured.
I took a deep breath. Then I walked in there and gripped on to my dad’s elbow and the bouquet in my hand—a mix of roses and poppies in shades of old rose, deep purple, and white. The faces were a blur of those I recognized and didn’t recognize, and I just kept walking and told myself to keep my back straight, to not let my nerves show, to not stumble and make a fool of myself, and to stop being so worried about everything.
Halfway down the aisle, I was finally able to see to the front, where Peter’s best man was—a man named Michael, who was a good friend of his in the Navy. Then Peter was there, wearing a black tuxedo and looking so breathlessly handsome that I felt something inside me still at the sight. His blue eyes bored into mine, and while I also saw nerves there, it gave way to awe. It was as if he was quietly saying: you are beautiful. You are so beautiful, and you are mine.
Yes, I was going to be his. And he was going to be mine.
And just like that, the nerves slowly melted away. Our gazes never broke, even as he stepped forward and my father handed me over to him. He took my hand in his now, and the warmth of it steadied me as we stood in front of the priest who started the ceremony. We exchanged vows solemnly, and I realized I meant every word I said. He was sincere, too, especially in the part about how he was going to take care of me and be my other half through thick and thin. It made me feel things, so many things, and I thought I might be really falling in love with him.
We slipped the rings on each other’s fingers, and I marveled at how simple but beautiful mine was—a gold band with tiny diamond stones in the middle. Then the priest was pronouncing that we were husband and wife, and my veil was being lifted to show my face, and—
Peter leaned forward to press his mouth against mine—a touch that started off gentle before he pressed more firmly. I opened my mouth a bit to feel the kiss, and it was unlike any of the other kisses I had with other boys. While those were too rough and too eager, verging on sloppy, this was…slow. Innocent. Except it wasn’t that innocent, because I could feel the heat underneath, threatening to come out at the right place.
At the right time.
Peter’s hand settled on my chin, his thumb rubbing my cheek. He was savoring the kiss, and I wanted to give him more and taste more. His taste intoxicated me, and it was barely even a kiss.
Dimly, I heard the applause from the crowd. Peter lingered over the kiss for a few more seconds before breaking it, his blue eyes focused on mine. Then we both faced the applause, and I watched the grin on everyone’s faces as they celebrated the wedding with us. Belatedly, Peter and I called Isla over, who hobbled excitedly and hugged her father tight. Then she hugged me and called me mom, and my heart just warmed all the more.
I felt like I was on top of the world, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.
Perhaps this was the happiest day of my life.
13
Rachel
The applause in the church lasted long, and it felt like music to my ears as everyone congratulated us and proceeded to the reception. Peter, Isla, and I stayed behind for some pictorials, and Isla was uncontainable as she bounced around the place and grinned like crazy even with how uncomfortable her cast must have been. Her brightness was infectious, though, and soon I also found myself grinning from ear to ear and silently laughing as Peter gave us both looks of amusement. Then we were also filing in a car—a limousine, one that Peter rented out to surprise me. Isla and I excitedly got in, with Peter in between us, and we watched in awe as chocolate-covered strawberries were served and soothing music was turned on. The reception was actually just at the hotel, but we waited in the car for a while as everyone got settled in first and the host prepared.
On the other side, Peter and Isla joked at each other about which of her uncles would get drunk and act silly first, and which of her aunts would get mad about it. I giggled at their antics, then smiled when I felt Peter take my hand and squeeze it. It was a simple gesture, but I could feel the affection th
ere, and his rough pads against my smooth one was such a lovely contrast that I couldn’t help but squeeze his hand back. He then began using his thumb to rub circles on my palm. I found the action distracting, and I distracted myself in turn as I listened to them. Pinpricks of heat rushed inside me at his simple touch, and all I wanted to do was kiss him again. But I behaved myself and sat as still as I possibly could, just enjoying the moment of being with the man I married, and his daughter.
My new family.
When the driver was called via the car phone to get going, he drove right away. Then Peter’s aunt assisted Isla out and took her ahead, and Peter assisted me out right after. We walked hand in hand to the hotel, standing just to the side entrance of the reception area and waiting for the host to announce our names. I heard my name being called, and I felt my heart flutter again.
“—and Mrs. Rachel Bartlett!”
Then Peter was tugging me, and I looked at him.
“You ready?”
I smiled. “Yes.”
He smiled back. We both made our grand entrance to the smattering of applause all over again, then kissed in front of them—a shorter one this time before we were seated in the middle table that was decorated by an arch of gorgeous flowers and lights. The reception area itself was gorgeous beyond belief. It wasn’t so big as to give too much space, and wasn’t too small as to make it feel constricting. In fact, the venue was perfect, filled with dim golden lights and tables with table settings following the theme. A large flower arrangement was placed as the centerpiece per table, and each plate setting had golden candles near the champagne flutes. It gave an overall illuminating effect, particularly with the faint fog running all over the carpet.
Balloons floated on the ceiling, and more flowers were found at the sides. Then there was the cake table at the side of the food table—a three-tiered cake that followed the design Peter and I agreed on, but looked so classy that I somehow didn’t want to eat it. The wedding planner really outdid herself with how beautiful everything was, and I noted down to thank her again later for such a job well done.
The reception program flowed nicely with some laughs and tender moments here and there, and we ended up slicing the cake after all for the cake toast. Rich chocolate flavor burst in my tongue as Peter offered the spoon to me, and I watched as his eyes darkened in pleasure when he tasted it, too. It was so intimate that I felt my breath catch in my throat, felt my heart growing so fat from the joy of the moment.
When it was time to eat, everyone settled down and enjoyed the simple but delicious menu. Champagne bottles were popped out and poured, and everyone began toasting us. There were some heartfelt toasts from my parents and his aunts and uncles, then some really hilarious ones from his Navy friends. Despite finding no one more handsome than Peter, I couldn’t help but admire how good-looking his friends were, too, and how some of my single female friends were eyeing them. I grinned at Peter, who noticed the same exact thing and gave me a knowing wink.
“Are your friends single?” I asked, curiously.
“Only one of them there is married,” he replied, giving their direction a subtle nod. “The rest of them are…ready to party.”
I stifled a snicker as I got exactly what he meant. I heard that wedding receptions often turned into lover hunts, because all the declaration of love and the happy feelings surged in everyone had everyone wanting to slake it—at least, that’s what I was told. I could see one of Peter’s friends looking in the direction of one of my neighbors who was a grade school teacher and hadn’t really gone into any relationship since her ex-boyfriend broke her heart. His gaze was unreadable, and my friend Ella…she noticed the gaze right away and was torn between blushing and trying to put up an invisible wall against the man.
It was amusing, really.
Peter didn’t notice this, and I turned my attention to another one of the toasts. Then we toasted, too, drinking champagne that made me giddy. He leaned in to kiss me again, and I tasted the champagne on his lips and found myself craving more. Actually, I just wanted to open my mouth up for him, to see where this would lead.
But before I could contemplate it, the host was already announcing our first dance.
We followed the drinking by doing the first dance to a song that was slow and talked about love, of course. Peter’s hands went to my waist, and I placed mine on his chest and leaned closer as we swayed to the beat. I was surprised to find out that he actually wasn’t a bad dancer—in fact, Peter led well, making me think of how he would lead me when we were in the bedroom.
I knew I said to myself that I wouldn’t sleep with him and treat this as nothing but a business deal…but really, who was I kidding? I couldn’t even resist him now.
And I certainly didn’t want to.
As if he read my mind, Peter pulled me closer, molding our bodies together. He tilted my head up, gazing into my eyes quietly as if trying to figure something out.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he murmured.
I shook my head and smiled. “I’m fine. I’m just so happy.”
Surprise and a sort of smug satisfaction flitted in his blue eyes. “So am I,” he responded softly. Then those eyes darkened again, and I watched the hunger flicker in them before he was leaning down to kiss me once more.
Unlike all our other kisses, this one was more…out there, as Peter opened his mouth first and tasted my lips with ease. Then I felt something tap on my lower lip and realized it was his tongue, sweeping lightly and waiting for me to give him entrance. I had the feeling he wouldn’t push it, but curiosity was getting the better of me. Slowly, I opened my own mouth and just kept kissing him back, feeling his tongue slide in smoothly.
What followed was a coaxing that turned from slow and gentle to slow and sensual.
My mind blanked—that was the only way to describe it as I felt his tongue sweeping across the cavern of my mouth, as I felt his lips nip at me and urge me to kiss him back, harder. I did, standing on tiptoe and letting myself go in the moment. My tongue came out, tangling with his and making all my feelings come out and grab me by the throat. An explosion of flavors came once our tongues collided: the champagne we drank, along with something purely, instinctively male.
Something purely Peter.
Peter tasted dark, sexy…experienced. I could tell by this one kiss that he was skilled, and he used that skill to coax me deeper and deeper into oblivion—then, to rise up against it and own up to my feelings. Heat tingled down my spine and spread all over my skin, until eventually my body felt like it was on fire, burning only higher and higher. Desire rushed in my stomach, and all I wanted to do was press my body even closer and just feel all of him.
Instinctively, my body did just that. Peter’s hands tightened on my waist, then moved, a gentle caress as the kisses went on and on. His mouth nipped my bottom lip, and it was so sudden that lust shot up inside me. In response, a moan came out of my throat, soft and eager, which he swallowed with more kisses. An answering groan rumbled in his, rough and primitive.
Belatedly, I felt something hard pressing against my stomach. Shock hit me as I realized what it was. Then before I knew it, I was being gently steered away, and the kiss was broken. It left me wanting more, and I looked up to find that I wasn’t the only one feeling that way. Peter looked like he wanted to yank me back against him and just ravish me then and there, but words came out of his mouth instead.
“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” he muttered.
So did I.
Dimly, I realized that we were still in the middle of the reception and still in the middle of the dance floor. I glanced down, where I found his erection beneath his slacks. It wasn’t that visible due to the black color he was wearing, but anyone who could inspect closer would see that there was a bulge there.
A very huge bulge.
My mouth went dry, and my body…it responded all over again. An ache settled in my belly, so strong that it shocked me. We were still swaying to the music, and I found Peter�
�s hand tightening on my waist in warning.
“If you keep looking at it like that,” he murmured, roughly, “I might not be able to control myself.”
I gasped. Then I blushed, mortified. Peter let out a low, deep laugh, pulling me closer and kissing my lips once, then twice. I clung on to him and savored it.
“You’re a really great kisser,” I muttered.
He laughed again. “Best compliment I’ve ever had.”
I giggled. Oh, I was pretty sure he had a lot of great compliments dealt to him. But he sounded sincere, and my heart swelled.
The reception turned into a party, one where us and the guests talked and ate and bonded. I never thought weddings would be this much fun, and I was laughing too much and just reveling in the fact that all my loved ones were together in one room. Isla was also obviously having the time of her life as everyone doted on her—or rather, as she charmed everyone just like she charmed me. I still couldn’t believe that she was now my daughter, and I vowed to take very good care of her and make her feel loved.
As Peter and Isla predicted, his uncles got drunk and turned the party hilarious with their so-called dancing skills. Peter’s friends joined in on the fun, and I caught a glimpse of Ella dancing almost shyly to the music, too. Isla fumbled along, her moves graceful even with her leg. Even my parents were mingling, and at one point, my brother Jay approached us and asked to speak to Peter in private. I could only watch in amusement and curiosity as their heads bowed and they discussed in a serious manner, before Jay suddenly shook Peter’s hand and grinned. Whatever Peter said, it must have been something because my brother was suddenly all approving and giving me his “blessing”.
When Peter returned, it was time to say goodbye. We ended the night with one last dance, then one last toast of champagne as everyone clinked their forks to their glasses. Then everyone followed us to the side exit, where the limousine was located and waiting for us. There was a teasing chant to kiss, and Peter complied with a grin, kissing me again and again until I was dizzy with it. During the last chant, it was me who stood on tiptoe and grabbed the lapels of his jacket to give him a longer kiss, and I felt his response deep in my soul, so full of hunger and want. He groaned, and the teasing from the audience only escalated as he hurriedly helped me inside the vehicle.
