Page 82 of Gone for You

“Same rule applies, I’m sure.”

“Oh yeah?” I lean an arm on the table and stretch it out in her direction, playing with her fingers.

“Oh yeah.”

“So raise your glasses, everyone, to my bride. The juice was definitely worth the squeeze. And I just realized that sounded a tad bit inappropriate,” he jokes.

Everyone laughs, clinks glasses and tips back whatever they’re drinking. Liv, though, tips her head back and swallows down the rest of her glass of wine.

* * *

“I couldn’t takemy eyes off you the entire ceremony.”

“You were supposed to be paying attention.”

“Oh. I was.”

Liv’s arms are wrapped around my neck, her fingers playing with the short hair at the nape of my neck. Her smooth skin is warm beneath the pads of my fingers. I flex them, pressing a bit harder into her lower back and tugging her closer.

Heaven.

She presses her nose into my chest and I twist my head, kissing her temple. A big part of me is waiting for her to freak out, push me away so no one sees us together. But I won’t kick the gift horse in the mouth, so to speak. If she’s not going to push me away, I’m going to keep her as close as she’ll let me.

“Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?”

“Nope. Not once.”

I chuckle. “My bad.”

She tilts her head, looking up at me. “Well, I’m waiting.”

“Oh, my apologies. You look rather ravishing in this dress, Liv.”

“I thought you said beautiful?”

I chuckle, rub the tip of my nose along her temple. “Lovely.” I kiss her jaw. “Pretty.” I suck on her earlobe. “Beautiful.” I whisper against her ear and she shivers. “Ravishing.” I taste the soft skin along her neck, pretending to whisper something in her ear. “Gorgeous.” She whimpers. “Stunning.”

“I think we need to leave soon.”

I straighten as if I wasn’t just participating in some heavy foreplay on the dance floor. “Hmm. They haven’t even thrown the bouquet and garter yet.”

“Maybe we need to push this party along, then.”

“Haven’t you ever heard that patience is a virtue?”

“Nope.” She shakes her head and trails her hands so they’re resting on my chest.

“Or that good things come to those who wait?”

She pretends to think. “I can’t say that I’ve heard that either.”

“What about that we undo ourselves with impatience?”

“I think the quote is something about even nice people run out of patience.”

“Oh really?” I take her hand in mine and spin her away, pulling her back in close. I keep her hand in mine against where my heart is beating for her as we sway side to side. “And is that what you are? Nice?”

“Yup. Just ask Santa.”

---