CARTER
NOVEMBER
“ARE YOU NERVOUS?”
“Yes. No. Yes. Fuck. No. I don’t know.” That right there is probably answer enough. I tug at my tie and adjust the sleeves of my jacket for what must be the twentieth time. It’s not hot outside, but it’s fucking hot in here. Why is it so hot? “It’s overdue.”
Someone chuckles, and I glare down the line of five men standing at my side. One quick look at Hank, Emmett, Adam, Garrett, and Jeremy tells me it could be either one of them. They’re all assholes.
Dublin whines at my feet. He’s not an asshole. He’s a good boy wearing a pup-tux.
“You’ve known each other all of eleven months, and it’s overdue?” Garrett shakes his head. “Fuck me, if I ever become as pussy-whipped as you…”
I give Adam a look and he does exactly what I need him to: elbows Garrett in the ribs. I hide my smile at the way he keels over, gripping his side, but then the music starts, and I might be having some sort of panic attack as the procession of beautiful women starts making its way down the aisle.
“Calm the fuck down,” Jennie mutters to me as she passes by, and Garrett chuckles way louder than necessary, earning an eyebrow from both me and my sister. He clears his throat, and Jennie gestures at her neck, bugging her eyes out at him.
What? he mouths to her.
She keeps tugging at some imaginary tie, eyes wide as she throws pointed looks at his neck.
I don’t know what you’re saying, he yell-mouths back to her, gesturing around with his hands in some sort of show of how much he really doesn’t get it.
“Oh for fuck’s—” Jennie buries her face behind her bouquet for a moment. “Your tie! Fix your tie!”
“What? Oh.” Garrett looks down, face turning bright red when he spots his crooked tie.
This day is off to a fantastic start, which only further spikes my anxiety. I at least manage a smile at the way Alannah dances down the aisle, throwing flower petals in unsuspecting faces. Jem makes it halfway before he decides to lie down and start munching on one of the petals.
“Jemmy! No! Jemmy, up!” Alannah tries to tempt him with more petals, backing slowly toward the altar. “C’mon, Jemmy. C’mon. I got lotsa petals for you right here, little guy.”
Olivia told me this would happen. In fact, she bet me. Now I owe her a foot rub and brownies.
“Kid’s got his mom’s attention span,” Jeremy mutters.
I snort a laugh, ’cause yeah right. The way Kristin scowls at him from my right tells me she agrees.
Alannah eventually ends up hoisting her brother into her arms, carting him down the aisle. “Give Uncle Carter the rings, Jemmy.”
By some stroke of luck, the little chunker grins up at me, holding up the small box in his pudgy fist.
“Thanks, buddy,” I tell him quietly before I plant a kiss on both their cheeks. My fingers curl tightly around the box, and I pull in a deep, staggered inhale as the music fades out. “Holy fuuuck,” I breathe out when the next song starts.
“Millionaire” by Chris Stapleton. Olivia thinks I picked it because I’m a millionaire. I picked it because if all I had was her and her love, I’d still feel like the richest damn man in the world.
Every single shred of anxiety I might have felt dissipates the second that stunning woman steps through the doors, all five foot one of her draped in lace and satin, and every bit of oxygen is sucked from the room.
Which is maybe why holy fuck flies from my lips once more.
“Describe her to me,” Hank whispers.
“She’s…she…” I squeeze my eyes shut for the briefest moment, because I don’t wanna miss a second of this. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” There are no words. She’s like…waking up on Christmas morning when you’re three years old and you finally understand what it’s all about. She’s the moment the rain stops and the sun comes out, lighting up the sky with color, and everything smells new and fresh. She’s the first skate on a frozen lake, surrounded by snowy mountains and pine trees and the freshest breath of air. She’s rolling over in the middle of the night, pulling that warm body into yours and curling around it, and everything’s just right. “She’s just…she’s just…”
“Perfection,” Hank finishes quietly.
Utter fucking perfection. And she’s all mine.
That’s probably why I only let her get three quarters of the way down the aisle before I take off, running toward her while our guests gasp with surprise.
But Olivia? She doesn’t look surprised. Not in the slightest.
“Impulsive and impatient,” she murmurs, right before her dad releases her hand and I lift her into my arms, spinning her, crushing her to my chest as I kiss her with everything I have.
“That’s why you’re marrying me.”
“Mmm.” She tilts her head, nose scrunching as she pretends to think. “Among other reasons, yes.”
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I want to sink my fingers into her hair, but she’ll likely kill me. It looks so pretty.
“Hey!” Cara snaps her fingers from her spot at the altar. “Quit making out and get your butts up here and get married!”
Olivia giggles and I hold my hand out to her. I’m sure I’ve never smiled so wide when I ask, “Ready to get married?”
She slips her hand into mine, our fingers tangling, and hits me with that tender smile I love so much. “Ready.”
“You are absolutely spectacular tonight, Mrs. Beckett.”
Her dress is a gorgeous, intricate lace, draped over satin, delicate beading over her perfect ass, leading up to her back, fully exposed and creamy perfection. Blushing maple, the shade is called. I don’t care what the fuck it’s called; my wife is a goddamn masterpiece tonight.
I spin my stunning bride around the ballroom like my sister taught us, and catch sight of her in the corner, hands at her face like she’s nervous we’re going to mess up at any second, mouthing the counts to each step.
“You say that every night.”
“That’s because you are. Naked, dressed up, wearing sweats and a messy bun, or nothing but my T-shirt, you’re the most beautiful thing these eyes have ever seen. But tonight…” I trail my finger down her side and wrap my hand around her hip.
“My dress is too tight.”
I pull back to look at her pout, and grin. “It is not.”
This dress fits her perfectly. I don’t need to inspect it; I’ve been staring at her in it all damn night. She also caught me red-handed trying to sneak a peek at it a couple weeks ago in one of the spare bedroom closets. She judo-chopped me so hard I iced my wrist after just to make her feel bad about it. That worked, until she caught me laughing to myself. She slept in pajamas that night and made me keep my hands above the waist.
“I can barely breathe, Carter, and I definitely can’t bend over.”
“Oh, no.” Placating her gets me pretty far these days. “Well then, we should probably get you out of it, ASAP.” I make a show of looking around for an exit, or maybe a bathroom. The more I look, the less of a show it is. I’ll take her somewhere private right the hell now. “Let’s go somewhere I can rip it off you.”
“This dress cost an obscene amount of money. You’re not ripping it off me. Ever.”
“Mmm.” We’ll see about that. I’ll pay to have it sewn back together if I need to. “Planning on wearing it again, are you?”
Olivia gets this cheeky little grin on her face as her hands curl around my neck, pulling me closer. “Yes. When I marry my second husband.”
“Naughty girl.” I slip a palm down her back, letting it curve over the gentle swell of her ass, giving it a little squeeze.
“You realize all two-hundred-plus guests can see your hand on my ass right now, right, Mr. Beckett?”
“Mhmm. I like it, Mrs. Beckett. Let’s them know you’re mine.”
Olivia snorts my favorite giggle. “Think that was the point of the wedding vows they witnessed earlier today.”
“My hands all over your luscious body is better. More in your face. You know my motto: go big or go home.”
Olivia’s head drops backward, smoky lids falling shut as she shakes with laughter. “I can’t believe how much I love you,” she tells me with a soft sigh before touching her lips to mine.
“I think I can’t possibly love you more than I do right now, but tomorrow you’ll prove me wrong, like you do every day.”
“You’re too sweet.” Her lips touch my ear. “When you’re not being a little piglet.”
I chuckle quietly, holding her close as I whisper the last few words of our song in her ear and cop one last feel, ’cause I like being a little piglet, so long as it’s with her.
We take our seats at the head table, and Olivia dabs at her eyes throughout every course as we listen to speeches from our friends and family. It’s when Hank’s halfway through his speech that she really starts to lose her shit.
“Carter, son, I know the day we met…well, I know it was probably the worst day of your life. And gosh, how I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances. But, well, meeting you was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I truly believe that Ireland set us on a path to meet, and your dad, too, and I’m grateful every damn day for that. Ireland and I couldn’t have kids, and I may not have met you until I was halfway out the door, but the second you walked into my life I knew you were special. You filled a hole in my heart that nobody else could, and I know for damn sure that my Ireland would’ve loved you, and that your dad is looking down on you today, proud as all hell of the man you’ve become. Olivia…my God. I’m glad I can’t see. I can hear you sobbing, and seeing that would break my old heart.”
Olivia curls forward with a gurgle of laughter, and I drop my hand to her back, rubbing her smooth, warm skin.
“I knew the second I heard the news that Carter asked a lady to dance at a bar that he’d found the one. Knew right away. The two eyes on my face might not work so well, but the third eye right here—” he taps the space between his brows, “—works mighty fine. That boy’s been enthralled with you ever since you walked into his life. I’ve never known a pair more perfectly suited to each other. The way you work so hard to make yourselves better, to be better together, a true team, it’s inspiring. I don’t have to wish you all the happiness in the world, because I know you’ve already found it.” Hank lifts his glass. “To a love that only grows stronger with age and never ends.”
Olivia’s out of her seat before I can push back from the table, crashing into Hank with enough force that I’m momentarily concerned the two of them might go tumbling to the ground. But I steady them, joining them and enjoying every second of this group hug.
As the dinner plates get cleared and the chatter is at an all-time high, I lean into my wife’s ear. “It’s almost time for our speech. Wanna get outta here for a quick five minutes?”
She lifts one knowing brow. “A quick five minutes, or a quick five minutes?”
“I’d prefer a long two hours, but a quick five minutes will do.”
“You’re never quick, and you’re certainly never five minutes.” And yet she stands anyway, folding her napkin by her plate and pulling me from my chair.
The second I’ve got her behind a locked door, I pounce, backing her up against the vanity. “I love when you cry.”
Her forehead creases. “What an odd thing to say.”
“You’re fucking beautiful when you cry. Your eyes turn soft and melty, and they get the prettiest flecks of green and gold in them.” I hike her dress up as delicately as I can, shimmy her white lace panties down her legs, and hoist her up on the counter. “Plus, you’re such a softie, and I get great pleasure out of seeing that. Such a stark contrast from the tough girl you pretend to be.”
“I am tough.” Her head lolls to the side, tongue dancing across her top lip as she watches me pull out my cock, fisting it at the base, dragging it through her folds and over her clit. Wet, so wet.
“So tough.” I pull her into me, pressing my lips against her collarbone as I sink inside her. “You sat through an entire Sarah McLachlan SPCA commercial the night we met just so you didn’t have to make eye contact with me.”
“It was torture,” she says on a moan, rocking her hips into me. She starts yanking at my tie, fumbling with my buttons. “Off. I want this off.”
“Ah-ah,” I tsk, covering her hand with mine. “Quick,” I remind her. “Five minutes.”
My God, nobody pouts like Olivia, all frowny, pushing that bottom lip out as far as it’ll go. Laughing, I kiss it right off her face.
“I’m trying so hard not to ruin your hair right now,” I grunt out as I pick up speed. “But all I wanna do is stick my hand in there, pull out all those damn pins and tiny little flowers, and fucking…fuck you. I wanna fuck you so hard and long you can’t remember what it feels like to not have me inside of you. I wanna lay you down on our bed, rip this fucking dress off you, and worship every inch of this body until you know what it’s like to have every piece of you loved beyond measure.”
Olivia whimpers, falling forward, gripping my shirt in her fist as I start rubbing her clit. “I already know…already know what that’s like.”
“Yeah?” I rest my forehead against hers, peering into those mocha eyes, and watch as she falls apart around me, her body trembling in my hold as I thrust once, twice more, and then I fall apart with her.
“Yeah,” she breathes out, touching her lips to mine. “If your love was all I had for the rest of my life, that would be more than enough.”
I like that answer a hell of a lot, and by the time we’re presentable enough, we make our way back into the ballroom.
My sister stops us dead in our tracks with a look of pure disgust on her face. “Oh, yuck. You two totally just had sex.”
“We did not,” Olivia insists at the exact same time I exclaim, “Sure as shit did.”
Jennie rolls her eyes and gags, stalking off to her seat.
“We’re ready for the champagne toast, Mr. Beckett,” our hostess tells me as we find our way back to our table. “Would you like us to serve it now, or hold off ’til after dessert?”
“Now is perfect. Thank you.”
Once the champagne is distributed and I have the microphone in my hand—Olivia says I don’t need one because I’m loud enough, but, pfft—we take our place in front of our friends and family. A server comes by with one last tray, offering a glass of champagne to Olivia.
“Oh, no. No alcohol for her.” I place a protective hand over her belly. “Isn’t that right, little mama?”
“Carter!” Olivia gasps, and the dangerous slant of her eyes and pursed, cherry red lips tell me—wedding night and all—this girl might murder me, right here, right now.
“What?” I ask as innocently as I can manage, because I don’t want to die tonight, but I’ve obviously made a huge mistake I’m not aware of.
My eyes fall over her face, the expression that only seems to grow more outraged by the second, to my hand on the tiny swell of her little belly that you can only really see when she’s naked, the one I can never seem to take my eyes off of at home, and finally, out to the crowd, our family and friends, their shocked but happy faces.
Because I just told all two-hundred-and-fifty of our guests that my wife can’t drink alcohol.
Somehow, my lovely lady manages to narrow her eyes way past the point of what seems possible. Is she even seeing me still?
“One rule,” she scolds me in that whisper-yell teacher voice of hers that has the power to make all six foot four of me cower. “You had one rule tonight.”
I did. One rule.
Don’t tell anyone about the baby I accidentally put in my wife over the summer.
And I thought I could do it. Really, I did.
Cara and Jennie are cackling because they knew I couldn’t. I catch Adam sigh, slipping a bill to both Garrett and Emmett, who look about as smug as I normally do.
Well. I fucked up.
I dig deep, as deep as I can, and conjure up my most charming grin, extra dimply, the one that’s been known to get me out of trouble. I watch the anger dissipate, melting off Olivia’s gorgeous as hell face.
And I lift my shoulders in a shrug that’s anything but innocent.
“Oops.”
