Bent not Broken (319 page)

He spreads his arms out to his sides, gives me a sheepish grin, and turns toward me. “I hope this is good. I’m not big on dressing up, but I’m pretty sure no one’s going to be looking at me anyway.”

I move to him and straighten the collar of his unbuttoned white shirt that provides a stark contrast to his tan skin. Running my hands down his sleeves, I take his engraved H cufflinks from his hand and fasten them for him. He laughs and says, “I never thought I’d have the opportunity to wear these.”

I just smile and run my hands down his charcoal gray vest, fastening his buttons as I go. “You look perfect.”

“You’re not pissed I’m not wearing a tie?” He gives me a look of disbelief.

I take in his disheveled hair and day’s growth—two things I’d asked him not to change as I left the room to get ready. Leaning in, I nibble at his Adam’s Apple for a moment before running my tongue up his neck and pulling back to say, “If you were all buttoned up, I couldn’t do that, now could I?”

He just grabs me and kisses me senseless. On a groan, he releases me and spins me toward the mirror. He claps his hands together. “This dress...this dress is gorgeous.” I look down at my ivory vintage find that I’d purchased for a steal at an estate sale. I’d never had the occasion to wear it, but I absolutely loved the floral organza material, the scoop neck, and the butterfly sleeves. It was so simple, so sheer. It floated down over my body just perfectly before coming to rest with at a swish around my ankles. Complete exquisiteness that I couldn’t resist buying even though I could never imagine having the opportunity to wear it. It had been stored in the very back of my closet, almost forgotten over the last couple of years.

“You have no idea how thrilled I am that you found this in my closet. I’ve always wanted to wear it, but I’ve never had the right moment. It’s vintage, you know? 1930s.”

His admiring gaze flies to mine. “Are you serious?”

I give a nervous laugh over his look of astonishment. “Yes, why?”

He grabs my hand and brings it up in front of us. “This is vintage. 1930s.”

“Are
you
serious?” Now
I’m
astonished.

“Yes. That’s unbelievable. When I went to see the jeweler, I described you to him and told him your favorite things and that you were a designer. He just nodded at everything I said. As a matter of fact, I started getting kind of pissed because I didn’t think he was listening to me. When I wrapped it up, he went to the back and came out with this. I was shocked over how much it reminded me of you. I didn’t even say anything. I just nodded and handed it back to him to wrap up for me. I never looked at any other ring.”

“That’s beautiful, and I love it so much. It’s so perfect.”

“You’re perfect. I love you,” he counters. Smiling, he says, “All right. I think we’ve got the something blue covered, definitely have the something old covered.” He grabs my ass and squeezes, eliciting a gasp from me.

“You better be referring to this dress, Adrian!”

“What?” Oh…shit, yes, definitely the dress,” he says with a laugh.

Then he reaches behind him, and I feel him slide something around my neck. When he moves his hands around to fasten the double string pearls that are interspersed with crystals, my breath leaves me in a whoosh. “Your something new, my lady.”

“I’m impressed. You’ve thought of everything, Adrian.” Running my hands over the pearls, I can’t help but say, “It’s so much. Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I never spend money on anything. I’m a saver. I’ve still got plenty where that came from.”

I feel my shoulders relax. I don’t want to put him in the poorhouse. I bite my lip and nod. “Thank you. I love them. They’re amazing.”

“They remind me of you. Classy but modern.”
I can’t believe he is my man.
Again I wonder how no one had snatched him up.

Once they’re fastened, I see him digging in his pocket and wonder what else he’s up to. “Your something borrowed.” He shrugs, puts the lace, embroidered handkerchief in my hand and says, “Actually, it’s more stolen than borrowed. I lifted it from my mom’s cedar chest. It was one of the grandmothers. I can’t remember which one.”

Laughing, I move over to the bed to put my shoes on. “Thank you. Now, you really have thought of everything.”

“Don’t move,” he orders.

“Umm...OK,” I say.

I’m holding my shoes in my hands, waiting patiently for him and wondering what he’s up to now. I see him grab his jeans and sort through them for a moment before joining me. He kneels down on one knee and props one of my feet on his leg. Taking one of my ivory lace booties, he drops a penny in it, places it on my foot, tightens the laces, and ties them up. I laugh.
He’s superstitious!
Placing it on the floor, he grabs my other foot and repeats the process.

“These are sexy as hell,” he tells me once he has me all situated. “I’m thinking you in nothing but these tonight. You and shoes. Mmm...the red ones with the black trim and black laces—those are my favorite.” He crooks his brow at me and runs his hands up my stockings, leaving goose bumps in their wake. “Please tell me these aren’t thigh highs.”

I chuckle. “Why?”

“Shit! They are,” he says on a sigh as he reaches the tops of my stockings. Snatching his hands back, he grabs me by the hand and pulls me behind him to head for the door. “Hurry up. If we don’t leave now, we’ll never leave.”
That doesn’t sound too bad to me
, I think. He stops abruptly, spinning so that I bump into his chest. He cups my jaw and forces me to meet his eyes. “And I’m not taking you until you’re my wife,” he says all raspy before whisking me away to make me his.

Seventeen

Mrs. Adrian Hebert

AS WE SLIDE back into his truck to head back to New Orleans from the Bay, I slide my hand into his before he can demand it. He looks over, giving me that devastating smile of his—the one that causes his little laugh lines to bunch up around his eyes, the one that makes me want to stare at him for all of eternity. I’ve got it so bad for him.

“I didn’t have to tell you,” he says. “Good girl.”

I beam at his praise. “You make me so happy,” I tell him. “I just want to make you happy too.”

He pulls my knuckles to his mouth and rests his lips there for a minute. “Wife, you make me so happy it’s almost ridiculous.”

Devastating tremors make quick work of my body. “And that makes me ridiculously happy,” I say with a laugh.

A sudden thought occurs to me, causing my laughter to continue to bubble from me loudly.

“What?” Adrian asks, giving me a lopsided grin.

“It just occurred to me that I’ve once again been granted a reprieve from the tedious process of changing my last name.”

“Oh,” he chuckles with me, “is that what this is? A marriage of convenience?”

My laughter dies out, and he makes eye contact with me. “The only convenience that I’m looking forward to taking advantage of is being able to have you whenever I want.” Lifting his hand to my lips, I kiss it tenderly.

The rest of our short ride back to the city is quiet, so I find myself reflecting on our perfectly quiet ceremony. I wished the boys had been there, but Adrian and I decided on the way over that we’d have small ceremony and big reception when he got back for our family—whoever was happy for us could attend and no one need be the wiser about the fact that we were already husband and wife. He said we’d spring it on them at the reception. I don’t know that I’ll be able to wait that long.

After we’d said our vows and the church secretary had snapped some pictures of us, Adrian had taken us to a little gulf-side bistro where we’d enjoyed a light meal and spoken of some of our plans upon his return.

Just when I thought that our little moment in time was winding to an end, the server popped over with a huge slice of Italian cream cake. Adrian cut a piece with lots of icing off before using his fingertips to gather it up and feed it to me. Unabashedly, I’d licked every drop of icing from his fingertips. First, because icing is the best part of the cake. Second, and most importantly, he’d tasted delicious and the little flare of his eyes when I scraped my teeth down his finger was priceless and thoroughly encouraging of my wanton behavior. I figured he was my husband and if I wanted to lick him and nip at him in public and he was OK with that, then that’s what I was going to do.

When I fed him his tiny piece sans icing, he did much the same even though I happened to know he really doesn’t like sweets.

After changing, we decide to go for a walk before calling it a night since it is a gorgeous fall evening and we don’t get those for long around here—it was either sweltering or freezing. As we walk through Woldenberg Park hand in hand and speak of nothing really important, my mind drifts to considering exactly what a tour in Iraq means for Adrian, exactly what he will be facing over there. And I just feel...overwhelmed. He’s talking to me about a song he and Zach had been working on and weren’t seeing eye-to-eye on, and I feel like I’m about to lose it. Frantically, I search for a restroom or some place to hide and just bawl my face off, but we’ve just come out on the Moonwalk and there’s nothing.

I feel my whole body tense and I can’t swallow. I’m about to make a break for it when I realize we’ve stopped walking, and he’s standing in front of me. My pulse is racing, and I feel slick with sweat. I try to focus on Adrian, and I watch his mouth moving and his terrified eyes searching mine, yet I can say nothing.

I’m in a bubble. I want to reach my hand up and pop it and continue my perfect day like nothing’s happened, but I’m paralyzed. Finally, I feel my arms being jerked and I hear Adrian’s voice, which doesn’t much resemble Adrian’s voice but Charlie Brown’s teacher. I see a brilliant shard of light, and then I’m back.

“Oh my God,” I gasp for air and grab my knees, panting for oxygen.

“Celeste, what the hell?” Adrian growls.

“I’m...I’m sorry. I—”

“You scared the shit out of me,” he barks as he rights me and rubs my arms.

“I didn’t mean to.”

He’s kissing my face, and when his lips move to mine, I taste the salt from my tears. I grab at his neck and return his kiss with fervor until we are both breathless. Laying my head on his chest, I look out over the Mississippi and the setting sun.

“Adrian, look,” I say after a couple of minutes.

He turns his head and takes in the beautiful sunset with its brilliant purples and pinks and oranges. “Magnifique,” he says simply.

“I’m so sorry I scared you.”

He looks back to me. His eyes no longer quite as worried. “Has that ever happened before?”

“No, never.”

“Baby, you froze. You were gasping for breath, your pulse was erratic, and your body temperature spiked. But you were almost...catatonic.”

“It was strange. One minute I was thinking how wonderful our day had been and my mind wandered for a moment to your leaving and what’s happening over there. And I was just...gone.”

“Shit,” he says as he hugs me tighter to him.

“Can we go back to the room now?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

****

I’M STARING IN the bathroom mirror, willing myself to go out to him. I’ve been wanting him and waiting for this moment for so long, but I’m incredibly nervous. It’s been a long time for me.

Taking a couple of breaths, I study myself critically for a couple of minutes. I’d changed into my aquamarine silk gown that resembled my wedding dress in its simplicity except the gown has spaghetti straps. It was long and flowing. I’d put my thigh highs back on for him since he seemed so excited by the prospect earlier. They matched my little white lace underwear. My black hair cascades around my shoulders. The only jewelry I’m wearing is my beautiful wedding set. I hold it up again, admire it, release a deep sigh, and jump when I hear a knock at the door.

“Yes?” I call.

“You all right, baby?” he asks.

Instead of answering, I open the door with a flourish. His swift intake of breath is all the reassurance I need. I step out and into his arms. “Sorry it took me so long.”

“Oh, no worries. You’re worth the wait.”

I hear some light jazz sounds and realize its coming from outside. He must have a window open. That’s the last thought I have as he runs his hands along my backside and pulls me in closer. I moan with the knowledge that he’s already hard, and I know I’m ready too.

Adrian slants his mouth over mine hungrily, and I quickly follow suit. I feel my silk bunched up around my waist, and he mumbles, “We won’t be needing this any longer.” He whips it over my head. He’s quite talented because he doesn’t disturb a single hair on my head.

His mouth is back on mine, he’s moving backwards toward the bed with me in tow. My pulse races and my heart beats a frantic tattoo. I’ve never wanted anyone or anything more in my life. Bending, he scoops me up, spins, and lays me down. I swallow hard as he pushes off his pajama bottoms to reveal he’s naked underneath and oh so ready for me. He makes me giggle when he raises his eyebrows seductively and grins big.

Inching up on the bed, his knee slides between my legs until it gets to my knees. When his eyes lift to mine, the hunger that I see there makes me moan. He sits up and runs his hands up my stocking covered legs. “I love these. So freakin’ hot, babe.”

Bending he kisses the exposed skin just above the lacy tops. I giggle at his light kisses. Running his nose up my leg, he doesn’t stop until he places a kiss on my center, and then he buries his nose, inhaling deeply. He nips at me through my lace. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I’m already panting and gasping and trembling beneath him.

He must sense all that because he says, “Easy, baby,” as he works his way up my torso, over my breasts, and to my mouth again, kissing me into submission.

Sitting back again, he eases my underwear down and his lips follows his hands until he’s making love to me with his mouth. My hands find their way into his hair, pushing at him and encouraging him simultaneously until I am a bucking, writhing mass underneath him. Relaxing under him, I struggle to understand how I can feel sated and wanting at the same time.