A Brand New Ending (Page 34)

Yeah. She looked hot.

She’d gone with a classic black mini, but this skirt had choppy cuts slashed at the hem to give off a serious peek of bare leg. Her boots were leather, over the knee, high-heeled, and badass. The red-and-black polka dot tank was flowy and paired with a tight black jacket. She’d used beach wave spray on her hair, so it was a bit wild with a natural curl. Her makeup was light except for her bright-red lipstick and heavy mascara. She looked like a woman ready for some serious fun and drinking.

Exactly what she wanted from tonight.

Grabbing her clutch bag, she did one last check of the inn to make sure her guests had everything they needed for the evening. Hot cocoa was out with a full-fixings bar. The fire crackled merrily. Already she caught gales of laughter as a group watched one of the new DVDs she’d purchased.

The steady clack of the keyboard drifted faintly in the air. Seemed like Kyle was also set for the night.

Disappointment flared that he hadn’t emerged to catch a glimpse of her very sexy outfit, but she smothered it quickly, annoyed she even cared about making an impression.

A beep sounded outside.

She grabbed her coat and skipped out to Mia’s car, where blessed heat blasted from the vents.

“You look amazing,” Mia announced, her gaze critically taking in her outfit. “Holy God, woman, you are a sexpot.”

“Thank you!” Ophelia laughed. Mia was also dressed in black—her signature color. She wore a sleek pencil skirt and peekaboo lace camisole that hugged her sleek figure, along with some platform shoes with gold-block heels that looked like Stuart Weitzman. “You look absolutely gorg.”

“Thanks.” Mia pulled out of the lot. “I barely got past Ethan without him ravishing me. I had to promise him stuff later.”

“TMI.”

“Sorry.”

Ophelia grinned and relaxed as they drove to pick up Harper. “So where are we going?”

“I have everything planned out perfectly. We’re going to grab something to eat at Lemongrass first, then we’re hitting the Gardiner Liquid Mercantile, then Joe’s, and finally the Depot.”

Ophelia stared at her in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right? We can’t hit four places. We won’t get home until two a.m.”

Mia grinned proudly. “Exactly. No turning into a pumpkin at midnight, girlfriend. We’re doing this right.”

“But Joe’s is a college bar. We’re too old to go there.”

“We need some college fun around us. When was the last time you went out?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, not wanting to answer. “I’ve been busy.”

“I rest my case. You’re too young to be locked up at the inn. You need to cut loose.”

She didn’t get to protest because they’d stopped in front of Harper’s apartment.

Her sister jumped in the car with a scowl on her face. “We’re not staying out too late, right?” she asked.

Mia groaned. “You both are hopeless.”

“We’re in for a long night,” Ophelia told her sister. “Mia wants to go to Joe’s.”

“It’s a college bar! They do beer funnels!”

Mia laughed with a touch of evil. “Even better than I imagined. Get ready, ladies. Harper, why are you wearing jeans?”

“These are my best pair. Dark wash. They make my butt look good.”

Mia studied her critically from the mirror, then nodded. “Yeah, you do have a great ass. But you’re losing that baggy jacket. You look amazing in the camisole, and we don’t want to hide it.”

Ophelia giggled. “She’s trying to get us both laid, Harp.”

“Hmm, doesn’t seem like a bad idea.”

They all laughed. A few minutes later, they were pulling up in front of Lemongrass.

“Let’s do this, ladies,” Mia announced with a smile and a wink. Then she led them inside, and Ophelia already knew it was going to be a great night.

He carried her over the threshold, barely managing not to crash her into the narrow doorframe, and she giggled against his chest, the white veil scratching his cheek. He kicked the door behind him closed—just like in the movies—and whirled her around so her satin skirt billowed out around them.

“You’re my wife,” he stated. Satisfaction and a raw tenderness coursed through him as he gazed at her beautiful face. “We did it.”

“We did it,” she whispered, stroking his clean-shaven jaw. “I can’t believe we got married by Elvis.”

He groaned and set her gently on her feet. “Baby, I told you we didn’t have to go to that chapel.”

“I loved it.” She slid her hands around his shoulders and kissed him, her lips soft and tasting better than cotton candy. “I loved every tacky, gorgeous moment. Our song is ‘A Little Less Conversation.’”

He laughed, tugging off her veil and running his fingers through her hair. “At least we’ll never be predictable. I knew you’d never pick ‘Love Me Tender.’”

She scrunched up her nose in an adorable face. “Everyone chooses the slow, mushy songs. I wanted something different for us.”

He gazed at her for a long time. Her dress was a simple flow of elegance in white satin. Pearls encrusted the low neckline, and the fabric hugged her figure, pooling into a small train behind as she walked. “You’re beautiful, Ophelia. When I look at you, everything hurts. I’ve wanted this for so long, I’m almost afraid to touch you.”

She smiled up at him. “If you don’t touch me, it’ll hurt more.” She tugged his head down, arching up to meet him. “I want you to touch me, Kyle. Everywhere. I want everything.”

He groaned, picking her up again and carrying her to the bed. Their one-bedroom studio was cramped. They were able to afford a full-size mattress, a couch, a TV, a lamp, and a desk for his laptop. There was one closet. Their pots and pans and mugs came from flea markets and garage sales.

They’d spent the last month finding a place to live, getting menial jobs to pay the rent. She’d scored a secondhand bridal dress from Craigslist. He’d rented a suit and financed the quarter-carat diamond ring on a brand new credit card that some crazy bank had mistakenly offered him. They’d feasted on a full-course breakfast at the local diner she had scored a part-time job at, changed into their bridal clothes, and made the drive to Vegas. For only $299, they’d gotten married at The Little Vegas Chapel, reciting their vows for Elvis with no family in attendance and a small bouquet of red roses gripped in her hand.

It was the happiest day of his life.

He undressed her slowly, his gaze devouring her nakedness, a raw hunger in his gut from the endless months of kissing and touching and foreplay. He stroked her naked skin with shaking fingers and a reverence he swore he’d feel for a lifetime. His lips pressed against her neck, then moved down to her breasts, her hips. They slipped lower to kiss between her thighs, and he held her open as she cried and begged. He kissed her while she crashed into an orgasm with open abandonment and couldn’t wait until he could do it again . . . and again . . .

He rolled on a condom and kissed his way back up her body, sucking on a nipple before diving his tongue deep into her mouth. He moved between her thighs, pushing with a steady rhythm while she clung hard to him.

He went slow, praying he wouldn’t hurt her, easing into her tightness until her body relaxed beneath him. He whispered her name like a prayer and moved in and out, filling her, claiming her, his fingers slipping down to rub her clit with gentle, tender touches until she shattered beneath him. He swallowed her cries and let himself go, his body shuddering helplessly, clinging to her just as fiercely.