Page 67 of Miss Understood

“No worse than getting married when we couldn’t stand each other, I suppose.”

It makes her laugh.

Kennedy watches as everyone gets seated, and Monica whispers something in her ear before darting off the stage. Luce’s friends are firecrackers, and, honestly, the three of them together terrify me a little. But there’s no doubting their closeness.

“Thank you,” Kennedy says. She sweeps the microphone cord out and steps forward with a bold smile. Apparently, Luce isn’t the only confident woman in their little friend group.

“Lucille, my friend.” Her eyes meet Luce’s. “This is a bit of an unconventional party, but, then again, you have always been a little unconventional. I don’t think I’m the only one here who never thought they would see the day you would settle down. But it’s good to see you happy. So, we’re going to do something a little traditional tonight. Something you didn’t get to do with a quickie Vegas wedding.” Kennedy waves her arm out to the dance floor. “First dance for the Mister and Missus!”

The floor might as well fall out from under us—I’ve never been so nervous. Looking down at Luce, I meet glassy eyes, but they hold me in place. I don’t fall away with everything else in the room, because I have her, and that’s all that matters.

Taking her hand, I lead her to the center of the dance floor, and it feels a little like being in the twilight zone. I’m not sure how I ended up at my wedding party—or married—but the tug of commitment to this woman plays me like a harp.

“Lucille.” I bow my head as I pull her close to me, and it makes her smile.

I know people are watching. Cameras snap, lights flash. But all I see is her. The blush painting her prominent cheekbones and the light emanating from those hazel eyes. Her body melts against me, and I’m not sure how someone can fit so perfectly against someone else, but she does it. Her exhales breathe life into my stale lungs.

The music slows, and I dip her, letting her float in my arms for the briefest second before I lean down for a kiss. Her blonde waves paint a halo around her head. The swell of her breasts against the neckline of her dress makes me wild. Her milky skin practically glows against the black fabric.

Our lips touch, and I don’t care how all this started, or where it’s going, or who is watching us. Two years play through my heartbeats; I fall for her more with each palpitation.

You.

Are.

Mine.

I.

Love.

You.

But the words don’t quite make it out of my tight chest, so I hope my mouth on hers will tell her everything I can’t.

When I pull her back up, she leans into me with heavy breaths, keeping her eyes locked on mine.

“You called my dad,” she says with a still surprised look in her eyes.

“I did.”

“That was unexpected.” Her eyebrows crinkle. “I would have loved to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.”

I laugh. “Well, let’s just say I’m glad it was over the phone with a couple states between us, because he was a little less than thrilled.”

“Sounds like you won him over though.” Luce squeezes my arm, and it lights up the fire inside of me.

“That’s my specialty, in case you haven’t noticed.” I lean down and kiss her.

I’ve never been overly affectionate with women. Usually, once sex comes into play I don’t even want to kiss them anymore because it feels too close. Too connected. But I can’t keep my lips off Luce. I need to taste her. Breathe her. Feel her.

Luce looks over my shoulder and chuckles. “Serena is recording us on her phone. If there was anyone in your life who still didn’t know about this, I’m pretty sure that’s over now.”

I shrug. “Let them know.”

Luce smiles, but it turns into a yawn.

“You tired?”

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