Take a Bow (The Perfect Plans Series Book 2) (45 page)

“Okay boys, time to make our way out,” Mo warns, looking at his watch.

Hell yeah.
“Let’s do this,” I rub my eager hands together, joining them at the door, the word
mine
carrying me through each step.

SHIT
, MY HEART is threatening to burst through my chest at the introduction of the bridal march, my eyes glued to the double doors at the end of the aisle. It isn’t nerves, it’s fucking excitement.
Yearning
. And when she comes into view, it threatens to burn me alive.

Stunning doesn’t begin to describe Aby in this moment. There are no words.

Her gorgeous brown curls are piled high atop her head, loose tendrils sweeping beneath the angelic veil draping down her back. I could never have prepared myself for the vision of her - her blue-gray eyes glistening, holding me hostage, her beautiful smile meant only for me. She takes my breath away.

She pauses there, in the doorway on her father’s arm, her love radiating in her gaze towards me in the distance between us. My perfect love, calling to me in it’s unspoken depth, every cell of my being fighting to run towards it, to claim it - knowing it’s walking my way, the only thing holding me in place.

The need to devour the length of her pulls my gaze, my eyes begging to take her all in as she walks on the arm of her father up the aisle. Her dress is mind-blowing, the strapless lace top framing her chest in the shape of a heart - romantic, fitting and incredibly sexy. The full, flowing skirt accents her tiny waist to perfection. She looks like a fucking angel.
My angel.

Reaching me, she steals my breath once more, a loose curl hanging along her perfect neck triggering an itch to just lean down and place a gentle kiss on the soft flesh. Time stands still as I lose myself in her beautiful face, the world around us melting away to nothing but my undying love.

She smiles wide as I take her hand, gently squeezing it as we turn to face the altar - in body only, since I can’t tear my eyes away from the angel at my side.

Words blur - heard, though fleeting in comparison to her strong hold of my heart - before her vows steal, capture, what I will remember for all time, “…to honor and respect you, to laugh with you and cry with you, and to cherish you for as long as we both shall live.”

I hang on her every word, overcome with emotion from the sincere purity of her love - love that steels the composure of my own overwhelming, recital of our vows. Every word, every promise I return, meaning more than I ever thought possible as I stare down into the face of the woman I love more than life itself.

I love you
, I mouth, wiping a fallen tear from her cheek.

Anything and everything around us is nothing but a hushed whisper - the only thing that matters standing before me, her gentle smile, her eyes gleaming with so much elation it leaves me bewildered that she’s mine.

Mine
…even before I hear the words of declaration, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

He doesn’t need to tell me twice.

Cupping Aby’s perfect face in my palms, I lean down placing the most heartfelt of kisses to her lips, trying my damnedest to convey the sheer magnitude of my love and devotion to her among the whispered cheers of the crowd. I feel the pull of her beautiful smile against my lips as the kiss extends a little longer than it should.

“I love you,” she whispers as I pull away.

“I love you more.”

“HOW DO YOU feel, Mrs. Tate?” I brace my hand on the back wall of the elevator, pinning my beautiful bride, stealing a caress of her cheek.

“Mmmm, perfect,” her breathless reply slithers down my groin, my dick twitching at the perfection of her.

“
You’re
perfect, sweetheart,” I reply, meaning every word.

She laughs and the sound sends a second strike to my raging erection. I’ve waited hours to get her alone - hours to make love to my
wife
- each agonizing minute closer to
taking
her sending my ardor careening higher. I feel like a randy fifteen year old, unable to keep his dick in his pants from the excitement of using it for the first time. That’s how she makes me feel. How she’s
always
made me feel. I can’t get enough of her.

“Fuck, I love you,” the words escape amid my attack of her perfect mouth.

The memory of our first kiss - the intense rush of need to make her mine right there in the elevator of this very hotel - floats through the euphoric dance of our lips and tongues. It was in that moment, my lips touching hers for the first time, that I finally knew the taste of happiness. I
felt
it. And my need for her now - right here, in
this
moment - supersedes my wildest dreams. She makes me feel like tomorrow is more than just another day. And each and every day, I fall further and further under her spell.

Coming to a stop on our floor, the elevator signals the opening of its doors, our kiss unbroken as I pull her out into the hallway. The only thing allowing the pull of my lips from hers is my dire, desperate need to get her to the suite. Our
honeymoon
suite. The entire notion hits me hard with longing, possession…love.

Quick, needy strides lead us down the hallway, our hands linked eagerly with anticipation. Stopping at the door, I wrap her in my arms, pulling her flush against me, leaning my back on the wall.

Mesmerized, I watch her lips part on a breathless gasp, her cheeks instantly blushing, hands gliding up my chest to rest on my shoulders. She loves it when I lose control, showcasing my desire for her, my
need
for her.

Her blue-gray eyes stare back at me, the ever-raging fire and passion we can’t seem to distinguish pouring from her gaze.

“It’s indescribable how breathtaking you are, Aby,” I whisper, swiping my finger along her delicate jaw. “I need you
now
,” I lean down to kiss her lips, “…forever. Always,” I continue amid swipes of my tongue, her avid surrender swelling my male pride.

Opening the door, I pull her inside, our lips crashing before the closing of the door behind us. She gasps as I release her, spinning her in place to unfasten her beautiful dress, my eyes begging the quickening of my measures, desperate to see her, my hands desperate to feel every bare inch.

She turns to face me, her perfect bottom lip bitten between her teeth as she allows the strapless gown to fall to the floor, pooling at her feet.
Fuck
. The visual is jaw dropping. And I take my time devouring her from the bottom up.

The sexiest white stiletto heels, long, mouthwatering legs wrapped in stockings, held sinfully by the clips of her garter…my dick threatens to explode from the confines of my pants at the sight. Her perfect bellybutton teases my tongue, peeking from her bare midriff below the white strapless bustier, her deliciously perfect breasts cupped in its lace. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was drooling, possibly frothing at the mouth.

“Like what you see?” she asks, devilish desire oozing from her angel face, her lips parted with fucking, sexy need.

Oh you have no idea
, I shake my head, staring down at her.
Mine
.

“Yours,” she whispers in response to my unspoken decree, as I bend to lift her in my arms.

TURN THE PAGE FOR AN EXCITING AND SEXY SNEAK PEEK OF C.J. WELLS’ UPCOMING RELEASE

Coming Summer 2015

“YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE! A
fucking
asshole, actually,” she spits, and I roll my eyes; I’ve heard it all before. “There’s not even a word to accurately describe you…you’re a…a…DICK!”

Sighing, I finish fastening my jeans and grab my shirt from the floor. “That’s mighty feisty attitude coming from a chick that just
sucked
my dick.” Flashing her a wink with my notorious smirk, I pull my T-shirt over my head, noting her open-mouthed gape as I make my way towards the door.

“Lose my number, asshole,” she slurs.

Turning to her from the open doorway, I offer a final pull of my lips before filling her in, “Sweetheart, I didn’t bother to note it.” I just manage to close the door before the item she threw towards me smashes against the other side. From the sound of the breaking glass, I assume it was a picture frame? Maybe a lamp? Who knows?

Why women feel the need to throw things is beyond me. It’s fucked up. So, you’re pissed. Is fucking breaking something going to make you feel better? Maybe rethink the decision to throw yourself at the guy before turning on him for taking what you were offering. Or, maybe add your disclaimer before you wrap your lips around my cock - you know, the one that tells me you want more; the one that will tip me off to keep walking before I dip my dick in your happily-ever-after-wanting pussy.