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Stormy Nights C.M. Steele 2022/8/5 16:57:58

“That’s very good to know,” his mother utters. “It’ll make things a lot easier to plan before you go on your vacation, or rather, should I say honeymoon.”

I shake my head. “Nick and I aren’t getting married.”

I hear a low growl behind me. “Yes, we are.”

I spin around and see Nick down on one knee. “Lillian, I’ve loved you for so long and wasted so much time that I don’t want to waste anymore. Will you marry me?” His hand is shaking as if this is scaring him. He should know I’m a done deal.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” I sob, nodding my head up and down desperately. He slides the ring on my finger. I don’t even look at it because at this point I don’t care if it’s a Cracker Jack box ring. I’m marrying Nick. “I’ve been holding on to this from the first day we met.” I don’t even care that this was a set up to get me here and for Nick to ask. Hell, I want to leave and celebrate with just the two of us.

He pulls me out of my seat and into his arms, kissing me passionately. Our bodies are molded together as our kiss evolves. He cups my ass and drags me closer to his hard bulge. Everyone around us starts clapping after we finally break apart from our kiss. I’m squealing inside because I can’t wait to be his wife. He kisses me lightly once more before setting us down with me in his lap at the table. I try not to be mortified because we’re in front of his mother, but I’ve got a feeling that this is the new norm. It’s okay because I love being wrapped up in his loving arms.

“Ladies, as much as I’d love to have you chit-chat the lunch away, I’m going to steal my bride away. We have to go to the courthouse to get some papers in order.”

“You better not be getting married today,” his mother threatens.

Nick shakes his head and laughs. “We’re not, but I want the license, and Ian says they can delay their honeymoon a day.”

“Hell, yes, we can,” Charlotte cheers, clapping her hands then rubbing them together like a million thoughts are running through her head when it comes to planning.

“Good. We can pick out your dress tomorrow. I’ll take care of the rest, dear,” his mother tells me.

Nick gets up, setting me on my feet for a moment before tossing me over his shoulder and carrying me out of the café. I’m giggling while everyone around starts hooting and hollering. I can still hear them even after he helps me into his car. I’m marrying a madman, and I love it.

What the fuck is she wearing? My lovely, indescribable beauty is waltzing towards me in a bikini that belongs to someone else’s woman. Not mine. I’m about to fucking stab the eyes of every other man on this beach if they so much as look in her direction.

“What are you wearing?” I growl out, taking off my button-up polo and covering her with it.

“It’s called a bikini, Nick. It’s what all the women are wearing here.”

“Well, I don’t give a fuck about them. They’re not my wife.” I’m territorial as fuck. She’s mine and only mine. I’m ready to spank her ass and fuck her hard to remind her who her body belongs to. Damn, there’s fucking men everywhere.

“Blame your mother—she picked it out for me, and I happen to think she’s right. It looks great on me,” she tosses out, throwing her hands on her hips.

“It looks better than great. You look edible, Mrs. Knight. And your goodies are for my viewing pleasure only.” I pick up my cell phone from the beach chair outside our suite and dial. “Mother, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

“Oh yes? What did I do on your honeymoon?” She’s got that saccharine voice going like she knows damn well why I’m calling.

“My wife has that bikini on that you picked out for her,” I snarl into the phone.

“Oh, I forgot about that. It was before you two got together,” she explains like if that makes it any better.

“You were going to let her go to Miami without me dressed like this?” I ask. I’m angry and block everyone’s view of her. I look down, and I’ve got a good reason. She quickly adjusts, hoping I won’t notice the nipple slip, but I do. Luckily the nearest fuckhead is about a hundred feet away.

“Well, it’s not my fault you’re jealous. Now, stop talking to me and go make some grandbabies for me already.” She hangs up on me, and Lillian tries to hold back a laugh.

“Mrs. Knight, are you laughing at me?” I ask, loving the smile on her sun-kissed face.