Page 91 of Damascus & The Wildfire
Inside, Kenna was already dressed for the day in a short, off-shoulder floral sundress, her auburn hair falling to her shoulders in loose waves. She clutched a clipboard in one hand, a purple pen in the other. She moved through the kitchen with purpose, probably set on checking the flowers, the cake, or some other damn thing for the wedding. I snagged her as she scurried by, pulling her close.
“Merrick!” she screeched at the disruption. Brisket woofed at me in a shared protest.
I plucked the clipboard from her hand and lifted her onto the countertop, pressing my body between her legs. I fluttered kisses along her collarbone, up her neck, my hands roaming her smooth thighs. I sucked in a breath when I realized she wasn’t wearing panties.
“I have so many wedding things to get done. I don’t have time for this,” she protested, but her breath hitched as I trailed my hands higher.
“The ceremony isn’t until seven. You have plenty of time for me to remind you who you belong to before this fucking goat rodeo gets started.”
She glanced down as I slowly pushed her dress higher, her eyes catching on the new tattoos on my knuckles—bold script that read “WILD” and “FIRE.”
“Besides, who knows if he’ll even show up,” I grumbled. “There’s still time for him to run.”
She laughed, shoving my shoulder. “He’s not going to run. Besides, it’s your job as the best man to make sure he doesn’t.”
I chuckled. “Or maybe it’s my job as the best man to be his getaway driver.”
Kenna smacked my chest. “You’d better behave today. No getaway stunts.”
“I promise,” I grumbled. “I just never expected Hatchet, of all people, to get married. Especially before us.”
She shrugged. “You haven’t asked me yet.”
I glared at her. “I asked you on our first date.”
“More like demanded.” She scoffed.
I pushed her dress up higher, kissing the inside of her knee, then trailing my lips slowly upward. “Will. You. Marry. Me?” I punctuated each word with a kiss. At the end of my proposal, I ran my tongue up her bare center, and she gasped, arching against me.
“You didnotjust propose with your tongue,” she panted. “Propose like a normal person. With a ring.”
I chuckled, my laughter vibrating against her, making her moan.
“Knock, knock,” a cheery voice called out as our front door opened. Brisket barked, his paws slipping on the wood floors.
Kenna scrambled to pull her dress down, but the flush across her neck and chest gave us away.
“Gross,” Merci complained, balancing two handfuls of bags in her hands. “Really? The kitchen counter? People eat there.”
“I know,” I said with a wry grin. “You’re interrupting my breakfast. Maybe you should try knocking.”
Kenna hopped off the counter. “Let me help you with those.”
“I’m just dropping these off, and then Jessa and I are heading to the airport to pick up Mom,” she said, setting the bags at the bottom of the stairs.
“I can pick her up,” I offered. “As long as my getaway driver services aren’t needed, I don’t need to do anything else today.”
“You need to pick up your tux,” Kenna reminded me.
“Right,” I said, scrubbing my hand over my face. “I can grab that after. When does she land?”
“In two hours,” Merci said.
“Consider it handled. Now get out of here. I was just proposing to Kenna when you walked in.”
Merci raised a brow, glancing at Kenna. “Proposing?”
Kenna laughed, shaking her head. “He wasn’t serious.”
