We drift and drowse together in the moonlight, sea salt on our lips and moonlight on our skin, sticky and love-slick.
And then he’s cradling me from behind, both of us on our sides, and he’s surging into me, slowly and lazily. His thrusts are like the slide of glaciers, unhurried and inevitable, and when I feel him start to shake, I slip my fingers between my thighs and bring myself there with him. And we never speak a word, never need to even look at each other.
We sleep, and then I feel his lips on my shoulder and his cock between the globes of my ass, and his fingers slide over my hip bone and to my core, and he’s got me writhing with need before my eyes open. And then he rolls to his back so I’m on top of him, my back to his chest, my weight on him. I plant my feet in the mattress and spread my knees as far apart as they’ll go and feel him slide in, sigh as he fills me, his huge rough hands cupping my breasts gently, his breath in my ear, his heart beating at my spine, his stomach tensing under me as he thrusts, thrusts, groans my name on a whisper and thrusts, harder and harder until my tits shake and my thighs are tensing as I move with him, my ass grinding down to push him deeper, my hands on his thighs gripped tight and pushing, pulling…
“I love you…”
“I love you…”
I’m not even sure who says it first, who comes first, only that it’s all a surging exploding fiery blazing blur of love and breath and his come shooting wet and thick and deep and his hands all over me and his lips at my ear.
The sky is pink with sunrise when he finally cradles my cheek against his chest, both of us sweaty and naked and sated. I watch the sunlight glint off my pink diamond, refracting into rainbows on the ceiling, marveling at the intricate metalwork of the band.
He’s nearly asleep, and I’m not far behind him when he speaks. “By the way, I reserved the Little Stone Church for next summer.”
“You…what?”
“The Little Stone Church, on Mackinac? Where we kissed that first time? We’re getting married there next June. Soonest opening they had, or it’d be earlier.”
I can only smile sleepily against his skin. He knows me, god, so well. “I love you, Adam.”
“Love you more, Destiny Ross.”
Epilogue
The tiny chapel is just the right size for the wedding we’ve planned. Most of the people in attendance are actually in the wedding party. My mom, of course, who walked with me down the aisle. And Dad, who gave away Des. She was already crying just from that, and gave my dad a long, emotional hug. My sisters, my grandparents, Rose, Gareth, and my agent Rachel and her husband.
The wedding has been planned in total secrecy, so the paparazzi won’t know about this until we announce it. I’m giddy with the fact that we actually pulled off a secret wedding.
Dawson is standing to my left, my best man. He’s grinning like a fool.
Ruth, Grey, Lia and Lizzy, and—surprisingly—Rose Garret are lined up at the front of the church, Des’s bridal party. I’ve only got Dawson but he’s all I need.
After a short speech about and love and the sanctity of marriage, the minister asks us to exchange vows.
I go first. I’m speaking from the heart. “Des…I honestly never thought I’d get here, you know. In a church, getting married. And then I met you, and I just knew, even then, that I needed you, and that I needed to make you mine. So here we are, babe. I’m making you mine, forever mine. You belong, now. To me. With me. My home is yours, my family is yours, my life, my love, my future…it’s all yours.”
Des is barely containing her emotions. It takes her a few moments of deep breathing to collect herself, letting out a sigh through pursed lips, blinking her thick black lashes.
“I have a quote tattooed on my body. A Maya Angelou poem.” She blinks and breathes, and then continues. “‘The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.’ That was the one constant in my life, the aching need for somewhere to call home, for someone to call home. Until you, Adam, I…I honestly didn’t think it was possible. I was starting to think it didn’t exist. Love, I mean. And home. And then you jumped off that carriage and showed me how wrong I was.”
She has to stop again, lets go of one of my hands and wipes a finger under her eye, head tipped back.
“I don’t ache for home anymore, Adam. You’re my safe place. You’re where I be exactly who I’m meant to be, and I know you love all of me, the broken and the whole.”
I hear sniffles and sighs, and I don’t need to look out at the small crowd to know everyone is moved by her words, me most of all. My throat burns, and I have to swallow hard past the hot knot of emotion in my throat. I can’t look away from Des, from the tear-shimmer in her wide brown eyes, from the love pouring off her.
I almost miss the minister’s next prompt: “Do you, Torrence Adam Trenton, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.” I haven’t taken my eyes off hers during the entire service. I’m not the least bit nervous, just incredibly happy.
“And do you, Destiny Lynn Ross, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live?”
She takes a deep breath, smiles. “I do. With all my heart, I do.”
The minister smiles at her addition. “Then by the power vested in me by the state of Michigan, I now pronounce you man and wife.” He takes our hands, joins them, and lifts them. “May I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Adam Trenton!” I was sure to prep the preacher on how to introduce us, and I’m amused by my mother’s glare of irritation. She was the one who chose my name, and it’s always bugged her that I go by Adam, as much as it bugs me that she continues to refer to me as Tory. It’s a game, and this is my latest gambit.
We’re out the door, the sun shining bright in the blue sky. A beautiful white carriage is waiting, with two huge, glossy black Percherons stomping their hooves and snorting. The Grand Hotel looms up on the hill, colonnades marching into the distance, flags flying.
I can’t take my eyes off Des, her shoulders bare in the strapless white gown, the train flowing around her feet, the bodice cupping her magnificent breasts and lifting them proudly. I stand behind her and assist her up into the carriage, with Ruth at my side arranging her train so it doesn’t get tangled.