by Frankie Love
"So, what now?" I ask, anxious to see where I'll be living.
"Now, it's time I get my wife home."
Chapter Four
River
The last thing I was going to do was kiss my bride in front of the judge. I know if I press my lips to hers one more fucking time I'd need more.
A hell of a lot more. I'd need to ravish her. Up and down, entirely.
There is no way in hell I was gonna do that in a courtroom.
So instead, I shake the man's hand and lead my bride outside.
In the Range Rover driving home, I see light in her eyes. Good. Because there is a goddamn spark in my heart. It's something I haven't felt the longest time, but when I look at her, I know why.
There's a reason I haven't been able to find inspiration. I was looking in the wrong place.
"How far away is your place?" she asks warmly. She has no clue what I have in store for her. A lifetime of giving her what she wants. My body craves her. Already it needs her.
I blink, seeing a flash of her with those guys on the airplane earlier today and a jealous rage overwhelms me. There's no logical reason to it; those guys don't have anything on me.
Still, I have quickly realized what I'm dealing with when it comes to my wife. I saw the way the judge looked her up and down, the way his eyes ran over her curves, the way they lingered on the fullness of her virginal breasts.
It's exactly why I need to get her to the cabin, why I need to get her behind closed doors and make her understand that no man needs to see her again.
She's mine now.
"I'm only about an hour away," I tell her, itching to have her against me, naked and bare. An hour feels like a goddamn eternity "Sorry, I know you've had a long day of travel." I so wish I could reach over and take hold of her hand. Press her fingertips to my mouth. Suck her perfect little fingers. I want to taste her and take her and feast on her until she is ragged and raw.
I can't start what I can't finish, so I leave her hand alone. We drive in silence as I urge my cock to settle the fuck down, and for a while, I'm lost in my own ideas of what I'm hoping to do as soon as we get through my door.
She's my wife now, it's time we consummated this marriage.
"So, have you lived here long?" she asks.
She's trying to make small talk, and maybe that’s good; it will pass the time all the more quickly, so I can get to where we need to go. My bed.
But the more she talks, the more my cock stirs. Her voice is a melody and my cock fucking loves this song.
"Not too long. Moved up here around two years ago. Before that, I was in Montana."
"And why did you come to Alaska? It's so far away from everything."
"That's the point, I didn't have any desire for attention."
"You had attention in Montana? Seems as quiet as Alaska."
"I want to get off the grid. Clear my head."
"I get it, I've been living in Los Angeles and there is no such thing as quiet there."
"This is a far fucking cry away from that city."
She laughs. "I know, right? But that's the appeal. I didn't like that place. I thought it would be a good fit, but..." She shrugs. "It wasn't."
"Oh yeah?" I ask, looking over at her. Damn, she looks so beautiful, those big pouty lips, her raven dark hair, bright eyes as blue as my lake.
"It never felt like anyone respected me, men and women, alike. It was hard to find work, and I hated the way men spoke to me. Like I was a thing, not a person Everyone in L.A. was so bold."
"And you're not bold?" I lift my eyebrows. "Seems like marrying a stranger is pretty damn bold, Rose."
She laughs. "Maybe. But there were a lot of jerks."
I reach for her hand, despite my earlier promise to myself, and squeeze. “I’m sorry, you deserve way better than that."
"Yeah, that's why I'm so disappointed that JimmyBob and Rick might've been thinking of me in a less than appropriate way. Is every guy is a closet douchebag?”
"Not all of them, but you don't need to worry about that anymore. Now you have me. But the truth is, Rose, I'm thinking about all sorts of things I plan on doing to you. Maybe I'm no better than all those other men you've met."
"You are?" she asks, her voice a whisper. "You want me?"
I clear my throat. "Maybe that scares you, the idea of me wanting you so damn badly. But it’s the truth."
"You really want me? You're happy I'm your wife?"
"We just met, Rose, but from where I sit," I say, looking her over, "you're exactly what I was hoping for."
She nods, biting the side of her lip. "Sometimes, I think I'm too naive for my own good."
"There's nothing wrong with innocence," I tell her, my cock raging with desire at the thought of her purity. "And there's a lot of people who are wolves in sheep's clothing."
"Yeah, I've learned that the hard way a few times."
I look over at her, noticing her eyes are darker now, and the way she chews on her lip. I sense a knot of worry in her heart.
"What is it?" I ask."
"This chance... Marrying you... feels like I was plucked from my life and dropped into a fairytale."
I give her a grin. "You think I'm Prince Charming?"
She laughs. "More like the beast."
"Well, you are certainly Beauty." I look over at her, wishing we were already home. There is a flash of pink on the tops of her cheeks and I want to memorize the way she looks right now.
My fingers itch, for the first time in years. I want to write her down, describe every last detail about her. The curve of her cheekbone, the slope of her breasts, her narrow collarbone, and the delicate way her nose is upturned.
"I hope you like the house," I tell her as we finally pull up my long, expansive private drive. "I've never had a woman here."
"Really? A man like you... you've been here by yourself for over two years?"
"I told you, I’ve spent a lot of time alone." I put my car in park in front of my mansion and her breath catches, the sound so damn sweet.
I can't wait to make her gasp again. To make her pant. To make her moan.
"Well, you aren't alone anymore," she says collecting herself. She laces her fingers with mine and my cock rages as if it understands that finally, we're home.
Chapter Five
Rose
The way River looks at me, talks to me, explains the way he feels for me... it makes me feel so beautiful. So, wanted. It makes me ready to start my life with him. To get to know him in every possible way.
As he takes my hand and pulls me from the car, lifting me up and tucking me into his arms, telling me he's going to carry me over the threshold, I laugh.
Tossing my head back, I silently thank Isabella Rosalind for dragging me to the middle of nowhere and letting me fall into the arms of River Ryder.
Maybe not love at first sight, but I suppose this was love at first wedding.
"Damn, your laugh could move mountains," he tells me, carrying me into his home.
‘Home’ doesn’t do it justice. This place is absolutely gorgeous. It's a massive house, but more easily described as a lodge. Or a mountainside mansion. The dark wooden exterior gleams, the large red metal roof shines under the Alaskan sun, and there are windows everywhere that face a pristine private lake.
River carries me around the first floor of his home, my eyes widening further and further as we move from room to room.
"This is the great room," he tells me, and I marvel at the rock fireplace that reaches three stories high. Beyond that, through the windows, is a gorgeous view.
The lake has a private dock, a boat, a small plane. There is a large porch filled with Adirondack chairs and fire pits and a hot tub.
"What exactly do you write?" I ask as he sets me down, then pulling me into his arms and cupping my face with his palm. He may have been alone for the last two years, but he is more than ready for company.
I can feel that when he draws me to him, his hard length pressing ag
ainst my belly. My heart pounds in expectation. I've waited my entire life for this.
He shrugs. "I've written a few novels. Suspense."
I shake my head, smiling. "And you won't tell me more?"
"I kinda like the fact you have no idea who River Ryder is."
"Does that bother you, but I'm not a huge reader?"
"I like you exactly as you are."
Wanting to clarify, I tell him, "Well, I do like to read, but mostly romance."
"You like happy endings?" he asks, looking at me with his milk chocolate eyes.
"Of course, I want a happily ever after in a story, but I like reading about the journey; what brings two people together."
"I like that," River says with a soft smile. "Our story would be unusual -- two strangers getting married."
"Arranged marriages were the start of many love stories," I tell him, having done my research. "Arranged marriages are more traditional than what most people choose today. It gave me comfort in my choice. I'm not paving the way, I am following a time-honored tradition."
"Look at you," River says, gazing into my eyes. "I love that. That you really didn't take this lightly."
"I didn't," I whisper, fully realizing the depth of what we did today. We are married. Husband and wife.
I think he's going to kiss me, but I pull away at the last moment. The excitement is overwhelming, and I know that once we kiss, River will take me to bed.
I want that, but I'm also feeling a tiny bit nervous. It's so much, so fast. I want to make sure I am absolutely ready.
"Want me to show you the rest of the house?" River asks.
I nod, appreciating that he senses my apprehension. We move up the sweeping staircase to the second floor.
"This is the guest room, and here is a library."
"Wow," I say, taking in the massive bookshelves. "You have a ton of books."
"Yeah, but there are a few empty shelves for you. You can fill them with whatever you like."
"Am I going to upset you if I tell you I read everything on the Kindle?"
River laughs. "I told you, I like you as you are. I couldn't care less what you read. Or how you read."
I swallow, absorbing his words. Has anyone ever talked to me like that? Just accepting me wholeheartedly for the woman I am; the woman I'm not? Has anyone seen me like this?
Feels a little bit too good to be true, and I'm not a fatalist, but maybe I am a realist.
I mean, really, does anyone get this lucky? Fiametta told me Isabella has 100% accuracy.
How in the world was she able to predict a match so perfectly? I take a deep breath and River turns, looking back at me.
"You okay?"
"I'm just a little thirsty," I say. He nods and says we should head to the kitchen.
Before we get there though, we pass a gorgeous room, poking my head in, I ask, "Who sleeps here?"
He grins, takes my hand, and then he leads me into the master suite. "This is our room."
I look around the large king-size bed covered in a beautiful cream-colored blanket. Fluffy pillows cover it and a large armoire and dresser are to one side. In front of a cozy fireplace are two armchairs and beyond that is a beautiful set of French doors leading to a balcony overlooking the lake.
Through another door is a massive walk-in closet that is practically empty, and beyond that is the bathroom, with a Jacuzzi tub that could fit more than two people. The shower has two heads and there are two sinks on the sill. Every detail has been considered. This home is perfection.
"Are you okay?" River asks, joining me in the bathroom. I look over, into the mirror, and see this rugged, untamed man cradling me in his arms. I look small against his broad chest, his sheer strength overwhelming me, yet I seem to fit perfectly against him.
"I'm okay," I tell him. "It's just... This is everything I wanted. And..."
"Hey," he says, looking down at me. "Dreams do come true. If they do in your romance novels, why not real life?"
I smile up at him, able to imagine myself out on that dock, my yoga mat rolled out, my tripod filming a video with the lake that is so crystal-clear, so absolutely still, behind me. No one could comment that there is too much noise.
I'm excited to explain all that to River; to tell him more about myself and what I do. Or at least, what I want to do. And I want to know more about him and the books he writes, the stories he weaves together.
But we have a lifetime to get to know another and right now, there's something else I know we're both extremely interested in.
"So, you wanted to drink?" he asks.
I nod, following him out of the room, collecting myself as we walk downstairs into a state-of-the-art kitchen. Stainless steel appliances and a large island, the countertops finished in soft gray concrete and all the fixtures a polished gold.
"You have amazing taste," I tell him.
"Thanks, but I hired an interior designer. Stella is pretty amazing. And famous too. She's actually from the mainland. Idaho, I think. I heard of her when I lived in Montana. She came up here and furnished the whole place."
"Well, she did an amazing job. I don't actually have much design instinct myself."
"Me either," he says. "I figure I should hire people who are professionals."
"You're lucky, to have that luxury," I tell him, thinking about my eviction notice. My water bill. My student loans.
Part of the agreement for this marriage was that he paid off my debt, and my cheeks flush, wondering what he was thinking when he wrote that check.
"What is it?" he asks, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of chilled white wine.
"It's just, well, I don't come from a lot, and I just wondered if you judge me for that."
"I'm a self-made man. I never went to college, everything I know about writing I taught myself. I worked hard and eventually I got a big break. I honestly don't know the details of your debt, I just know the amount that Isabella requested withdrawn from my account when I signed papers agreeing to this match. So, don't carry that into this marriage, okay? Trust me on that, I don't hold anything against you."
"Okay," I say, nodding and taking the glass of white wine he offers me. "I just want you to know I am a hard worker. And I'll do my best to be a good wife and a partner and ––"
He cuts me off. "It's okay, Rose," he tells me. "I don't need an explanation."
"But don't you want one?" I ask, thinking about the million questions I have for him.
"No, I just look at you and I think, this is right. You and me, this makes sense."
I bite down on my bottom lip, wondering if he sees me as more than a pretty face. I want him to know me as a person, with dreams and ideas and plans for my future.
But there's a look in his eyes to tell me that, right now, he just wants company. He's been out here in the woods, all alone, and right now he needs a lover. Maybe later he can have a best friend, a partner, a wife.
"Can you show me where you work?" I ask him.
"You sure?" he asks, frowning.
"Please. I want to know more about you before we..."
"Say no more," he says with a smile. We walk to his office, each of us carrying a glass of wine, the bottle in River's hand. I take several big gulps, knowing that this night is going to require a new kind of strength, one I've never actually tapped into before.
But when we walked into his office, I'm taken aback, and nearly choke on the wine in my mouth.
"Wait, you wrote Elixir of Life?" I ask, looking at the framed photographs of book covers clearly listing River Ryder as the author. "And you wrote Loneliest Survivor? And Team of Twenty?"
My eyes widen as I turn to look at him. He just shrugs nonchalantly.
"River, those books were made into movies. Like blockbuster movies. I went to the movie theater last year to see Team of Twenty. It was sold out for three weeks straight. And you wrote that?"
River nods, setting down the bottle of wine on his desk. "Yeah, but, I don't like talking about all
that."
I bite my bottom lip, my eyebrows furrowed as I take in the other books that he's written. They're all framed on his wall. "But if you have so much money and fame... Why? Why marry me? Why go to the courthouse like that? Why marry a woman you've never met? You could have anyone."
He shakes his head. "I don't want to date. I want to be alone right here, in the woods. Most women don't want that. At all. Besides, I don't want to fucking play games. I wanted a wife, a life with someone, and I'm glad I chose it. Look at you, Rose. You're fucking gorgeous. It was the best decision I ever made."
"You know, River, there is more to me than that," I say slowly. "There's more to me than just the way I look."
He nods, walking toward me. I swallow, knowing things between us are about to change, forever.
"I know there is more to you than a perfect face and a body made in the heavens, Rose, but damn -- I look at you, and I feel a surge of energy, of creativity. I've had writer’s block for two damn years. I haven't been able to write a damn thing. But then you stepped off that plane. I took one look at you, and my head is filled with ideas. Stories. Happily ever afters."
"Really?" I'm taken aback, floored, and admittedly quite flattered.
"Yes," he says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He tilts my chin up, his eyes blazing hot when they meet mine. "You, Rose, are my muse."
I sigh, overwhelmed with his flattery and compliments. Wanting to make him happy, wanting to make him mine.
"As your wife, River, what would you like me to do?" I ask quietly. I lick my lips and take him in. He is so strong and tall; his large hands are going to do terrible things to me. And I'm desperate for him to begin.
"I want to strip you to nothing, Rose. I want to press my lips against your soft skin. Breathe you in, memorize your scent, open your petals and then I want to take your goddamn flower."
Chapter Six
Rose
He wants to take my flower.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath. This is happening. Now.
