Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“I know.” I choked out a laugh between sobs.
“I think you found yourself a keeper,” Norma butted in.
“I think so too.” I wiped away my tears. “Let’s make me pretty so I can go and marry him.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Ryland
Had you asked me six years ago if I’d ever seen myself in this position, I would’ve laughed you right out of the frigging building.
Me? Getting married.
Abso-fucking-lutely not.
I had one thing on my mind then, and that was revenge. How sweet it would taste, how good it’d feel. I didn’t want any distractions.
But when I took Brighton Valentine for the first time, I completely underestimated how sweet she’d taste. How good she’d feel. Or how she would crawl so deep under my skin I’d never see straight again.
She ruined me. No doubt about it.
And yet, when I caught sight of her walking down the aisle towards me- a vision in white- I was prepared to fork over heart and soul. She could have what was left of them, until death parted us because for me there was no other option. If I could’ve included an agreement that stipulated she wasn’t allowed to give them back, I would have. But we all know how the last agreement ended between us.
Still. She was mine, always would be.
I practiced breathing, which I’d briefly forgotten, as my eyes roamed over my bride. Her hair had been kissed by the sun during our time here. A mixture of strawberry and gold, it fell over her shoulder in soft waves. All I could think about was running my hands through it and mussing it up. She gave me a nervous smile. The one she usually wore when she was on her knees for me, doing my bidding. My cock jumped in excitement, and I had to tell him to settle down. This was not the time or place.
I couldn’t believe this little sweet was going to be all mine. After everything, she’d still have me. She maintained her stance that we were cut from the same cloth. Insisted she harbored just as much darkness as I did. She was wrong.
Brighton was all light. Everything pure and good and untainted, and I got high on her every time I tasted that nectar. How could I have ever thought I’d tire of her? That I could give her up when it was all over?
I was a fool.
She reached the end of the aisle and stood beside me. She’d never looked more beautiful than when she came to me willingly. Her eyes were bright and big and so alive it sent all the blood to my southerly regions. There was little choice but to lean in and steal a kiss. The officiant made a disapproving noise, and I kissed her harder. He could fuck right off.
“Ryland.” Brighton giggled against my lips before she pulled away. Her cheeks were tinted pink with embarrassment.
Oh, how I loved that.
The officiant did his spiel, and I heard not a lick of it. My eyes were zeroed in on my girl, impatiently awaiting that pivotal moment. In the interim, I found myself eye-fucking her and looking for tells. Did she really want to do this? Was she going to run screaming at any moment?
There weren’t any big red flags, but the fear was still there, regardless. It would be until the man said those words I desperately needed to hear. Upon further observation, Brighton appeared light and happy. Relaxed. Feet firmly planted in place. I was the luckiest prick on the planet if she went through with this.
She hadn’t made a big production of it, which I was quietly grateful for. I would’ve given her whatever she wanted, be it gold confetti or horse-drawn carriages. But frankly, I wanted to get it over with, so we could spend the rest of our life together. Also of equal importance- commencing the honeymoon.
The word flooded my mind with images. No need to get into the nitty gritty here, but I’ll tell you they were good. The fact I’d been inside of her incessantly over the last week did little to quell the burning in my gut. This island had done her good. Pregnancy glow in full swing, she was more radiant than I even deemed myself worthy of. That was a given, of course.
She’d chosen an ivory lace dress. How fitting. My sly little fox knew how much I loved the color on her. On point, her lashes fluttered as a mischievous smile lit up her face. I wondered if she had any notion what was bouncing around my brain. Perhaps she had her own dirty little thoughts. I had corrupted her after all.
“Ryland.” Her eyes danced with laughter as she nudged me in the side.
Oh, right.
I redirected my attention to the officiant who shot me a chafed look before repeating himself. I recited the words he told me to like a good little minion, unaware of what they even were. It was of little consequence. There were no words somebody else could write that’d ever pronounce my love for Brighton. My promises to her.