“Sammi, your groom is waiting downstairs,” Mom says, tapping a knuckle lightly on my bedroom door. “You have to be at the courthouse in thirty minutes. What’s taking so long?”
“Hey,” I say, cracking it open just a smidge. “Can you send him up here really quick? I need to talk to him about something.”
“Okay.” My mother worries her lip between her teeth. “Everything all right?” She reaches in, brushing three fingers through the hair framing my face. “You look so beautiful, sweet girl.”
“Thanks.” I draw a deep breath. “I’m okay. Just have something I need to get off my chest.”
Mom’s eyes grow wide as saucers, no doubt recalling what happened the last time I had to clear my conscience right before a wedding. I mean, it was just a week ago. I think we’re all still a little traumatized. “Can’t whatever this is wait?”
“It can’t.” I leave it at that, pleading with my eyes for her not to press the issue further.
“One groom, coming right up.” She leaves me with a tense smile, one that echoes the lava roiling in my gut.
She isn’t gone a full minute when Lyle peers his head into my childhood bedroom. He wastes no time with knocking, just slips right in, looking like he’s come straight from a red-carpet event.
One look at him and I’ve managed to forget how to breathe.
The man’s always been easy on the eyes, but Lyle Livingston in a suit is a sight to behold.
Temporarily rendered mute, I look him over, allowing myself a moment to relish the view.
He’s opted for a tan linen suit that fits his trim body to perfection. A baby blue skinny tie delivers the perfect pop of color over a crisp white shirt. His tan vest brings it all together. He’s decided to forgo the jacket completely.
His look is formal without being stuffy.
Lyle’s gaze drifts over me in turn, his thumb gently tugging at his lower lip. “That dress.” His voice is low and raspy—so damn sexy. “You look…” He steps closer, running his knuckles along my right shoulder, inciting a flurry of butterflies in my stomach, “Like an angel.”
My cheeks heat. “Thank you,” I say taking his offered hand. The same one he’s just trailed the length of my arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “You,” I choke out. “You are more handsome than my wildest teenaged dreams.”
“Yeah?” He tucks the curled index finger of his free hand beneath my chin. “Then why do you look like you’re about to take off running?”
He looks so broken. So afraid.
I shake my head, biting back tears.
“Talk to me, Li’l Bit.” There’s an undeniable desperation in his tone.
“I just…this is a lot.”
He nods, his jaw ticking.
“It all happened so…so fast.”
His brow furrows. “And you’re having second thoughts?”
“No,” I rush out. “I’m not…But I am sort of feeling like I maybe somehow trapped you.”
He starts to issue a firm denial, and I stop him with a finger pressed to his lips.
“You heard what happened with Trent. You knew the situation with my father. And you felt compelled to fix it.” I place a hand over his heart—his big, beautiful heart. “I know that you love me and that you wouldn’t have done this simply out of pity. But I’m worried.”
His head is steadily shaking side to side. “What are you worried about exactly?”
“Lyle, I’m pregnant!” I stalk off, pacing the room. “You aren’t just taking me, but a baby too. To go from living the single life to a married man with a child overnight…it’s a lot.” A knot twists in my gut. “Which reminds me…I haven’t even been to a doctor yet. I don’t have a doctor!” Panic has my heart nearly beating out of my chest.
I’ve truly made a mess of my life.
“One thing at a time, love.” His tone is placating, albeit a bit unnerved. “A simple phone call will have you and our baby seen to next week. You’ve had a lot going on.” He brings a hand to his chest. “I want you, and I want this child, more than I want my next breath.” His hand balls into a fist clutching his heart. “Nearly losing you was the ultimate wake-up call. I don’t care how this child came to be; I only care that he or she will be ours. That we will have the life we’ve always dreamed of. And I hate that it took such drastic measures to make me stop dragging my feet, but I want you. Both of you.”
How can he be so calm about all of this? He must have some reservations. “I’m worried you may be having regrets and are simply too much of a gentleman to tell me.”
“I’m not,” he promises, “having regrets, nor am I anything resembling a gentleman.”
“Please stay over there,” I beg when he starts to cross the room, “so I can finish.”
He stops in his tracks, releasing a frustrated breath.
“The situation with my father…it’s improved. The results of yesterday’s scans change everything.” It takes all the strength in me to keep going, because I don’t actually want him to take the escape I’m offering, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t give him this out. “So, if there’s any part of you that went back to Nashville and was like what hell did I just get myse—”
“Jailbait?” he says, slowly and steadily making his way to where I stand. “With all due respect, stop talking.”
“Excuse me?” I stammer, ready to tell him what he can do with his bossy self, but I open my mouth and no sound comes out. There’s a very strong chance I’m in shock, because what the hell is happening?
My groom’s hands drop to his waist, where he yanks his belt open. He keeps his gaze locked on mine as he proceeds to unfasten his pants.
“Lyle?” I rasp, my heart rate speeding out of control at the sound of his zipper lowering.
In one fluid motion, he bares his lower half, as his clothes pile around his ankles.
“Th—thought you wanted to wait until tonight?” I am so confused. And also so very turned on.
“Get on your knees,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for dispute.
Clearly something is very wrong with me because I swallow hard, lift my dress, and lower myself to the floor without argument. “Now what?” I ask, both nervous and excited. Lyle would never hurt me. I know that much.
He lifts the tails of his shirt, exposing his rigid length. “Tell me, angel, does this look like regret?”
At first, I think he’s referring to his massive boner, but then I see it. “What did you do?” I reach out to gently finger the raw skin above his piercing, reading the black script that definitely was not there a week ago. “Property of Li’l Bit.” I pull in my lips, smothering a laugh at what’s obviously a very fresh tattoo. “You didn’t.”
“I most certainly did. Now,” he says, bending to retrieve his pants. “Get up.”
I do, watching as he tucks his shirt back in, righting his clothes in the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door. “Anything else you wanna get off your chest?”
“No.” I shake my head, trying to ignore the desire burning in my loins. “That was all.”
“Great,” he says, taking me by the hand. He lifts my fingers to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to go marry the woman who owns my heart…and now my dick.”
“Well,” I say, blushing, “what the hell are you waiting for?”
