Page 119 of For Pleasure Or Worse

Pike’s hand came down on my shoulders, consoling me with a tight-gripped shake and when I looked back, all four of the most masculine, hard-souled men I’d ever known were in total fucking shambles behind me.

That picture painted a thousand words.

But Tally, God, it was no wonder we were all in tears. The way she looked was religious. Churches would erect in her image; people would pray for a woman like her. She was my angel. I held my breath until she was standing directly in front of me and then forgot how to breathe entirely when she gave her father a curt kiss on the cheek and took her place beside me right where she belonged.

One tear swelled at the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek. I flexed my hands and fought every urge to swipe it away.

“You’re going to ruin your makeup,” she whispered.

My breath rushed out of me in a laugh and all the blood in my body that had stilled in those hypnotic few minutes began pumping again. For her. Always for her.

“You are so gorgeous,” I murmured back, reaching gently to tug the short strands of her freshly cut hair. I loved it. “Fun morning?”

“I’ll explain later,” she promised.

“You know how much I love our pillow talk.”

The officiant cleared his throat between us and opened a thin binder of ceremony scripts and a blush crept up Tally’s chest likeshe’d forgotten we weren’t the only two people there. Because it felt like we were. It always did. Even in front of a thousand sets of eyes, it was only ever us.

“Are you ready to get married?” he asked. I wanted to laugh. So ready we’d already committed to it. So ready we were two tea kettles on the verge of boiling over trying to keep our arduous secret to ourselves.

I shot her a secret wink. “What do you say, Tal?”

“Let’s do this thing.” She nodded back.

Then I married my best friend for the second time, and when it was time to kiss her I held her face and swept her off her feet because it was the most natural thing in the world to have her cradled in my arms, crushed against my lips. And if I ever had the chance I would do it again.

And again, and again, and again.

chapter forty-seven

Natalia

Not to tootmy own horn or anything, but my wedding was the best damn wedding I’d ever been to, and it wasn’t even close. While I might have planned it with the sophisticated tastes of the richest Russos in mind, there were enough personal touches that the black-tie dress code still felt cozy and casual.

There were long elegant dining tables and string lights that swept above our heads from tree to tree. A dance floor was laid for an all-night party and cocktail hour was currently buzzing, which I was sorely sad to have missed the majority of while our bridal party took photos out on the beach. There was delicious expensive champagne in a seemingly endless supply. Every time I finished a flute there was another to replace it, and the music had even the oldest Durans spinning in circles between meal courses.

My heart had never been more full.

This was that feeling I’d been trying to convince myself that I deserved. As if speaking it into the universe made it real, I manifested this moment, this life, this love after such a long time standing in the dark. Once I started believing I could have it, something miraculous took over. I was closer to my sisters than ever, my relationship with my mother was mending, my fatherwas sober, my friends were happy and healthy, and Mateo and I were husband and wife.

My world was healing itself, patching up the holes, rubbing dirt in the scratches, sewing thread through things that had torn and needed attention. I was coming out on the other side of these six months a fuller person than I was before it.

Natalia Duran.

Fuck, I loved saying that. It made my entire body giddy like it was hopped up on Pop Rocks. It just feltright.

The best part of the wedding though, by far, was watching my gorgeous husband float around the reception in that perfectly tailored suit that made my limbs feel weaker by the minute. He was so confident and charismatic, the perfect host, the most adoring partner, and I should have been focusing on other things, like chatting with guests or dancing with my bridesmaids, but all I could think about was the way his dress shirt hugged his chest and how I was going to run my tongue down every inch of skin behind those buttons later.

It was only a matter of time before Mateo caught me staring at him from the other end of the table, and his face lit up, a playful, wicked grin tantalizing me. He put his hand on the shoulder of the older woman he was talking to and she squeezed his arm back gratefully before he turned, in my direction.

“See something you like, Mrs. Duran?” Matty slid into the seat beside me at the head of the long table. There was a centerpiece in front of us that said Mr. and Mrs. and our chairs were draped in floral and gossamer ribbon. He laid his arm over the back of mine and rubbed soft circles over my skin until I erupted in goose bumps.

“How much longer until the consummation?”

His eyebrow lifted at the same time the corner of his lip did. “Good to know I’m not the only one who’s been thinking about how quickly I can get that dress off you.”

Heat and anticipation stirred in my lower half. I tugged his wrist toward me and made a show of staring at the watch he was wearing. I’d gifted it to him for his birthday last August and he almost never took it off, but it wasn’t ticking at all. “Hey, I think your watch is broken.”

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