Page 105 of Wild Love
She keeps looking at me like she thinks I’m going to change my mind. I’m so serious. She grins. “I don’t know.”
“Be mine, Kota. All mine.”
She glances back at the chapel. “This is crazy.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Sex against the window in our hotel suite as Mister and Mrs. I’m not sure it gets crazier than that.”
“You’re insane.”
“Probably,” I agree. “Marry me anyway?”
She shakes her head side to side, and a slow smile spreads across her face until she’s grinning up at me. “Let’s do it.”
“Really?” My chest expands.
“Yeah. When in Rome.” She waves a hand. “Or, in this case, Vegas.”
We giggle all the way to the chapel. It’s busy, but I’m able to slip some extra cash to the lady at the desk and get us to the front of the line. This might have been my best idea yet.
“Do you have a ring?” she asks as we’re picking out packages. They have everything: dresses, flowers, photos, the works.
Ah shit. A ring.
“I don’t need one,” Dakota says. She steps closer. “Absolutely do not buy me a ring for a fake wedding, Johnny Maverick.”
I pull the hair tie from her wrist and loop it around her ring finger three times. “That’ll do for now, and it’s arealwedding. Last chance to back out.”
“No way. This place is amazing. I wish I had some white Chucks.” She kicks the heels of her red Converse together twice.
It’s gaudy and smells like cigarette smoke in here, but I don’t care.
Dakota opts for no flowers but picks out a veil that clips into her hair and drapes down to her shoulders.
“You never dreamed of having a big wedding?” We wait at the back of the chapel for the couple in front of us to finish their ceremony.
“No.” Her voice is quiet. “When my mom died, I struggled to picture a wedding day without her there with me, you know?”
“I do in a weird sort of way. Can you imagine what my dad would say if I called him and told him to hop in his jet for a Vegas elopement?”
She cups my cheek. “It’s his loss. You’re a good man.”
When it’s our turn, Dakota and I walk up to the front and stand looking at one another as the guy talks about love and marriage. I’m only half listening because I’m lost in her. She’s gorgeous. The black dress of my dreams and that white veil clipped into her red hair. Her cheeks are flushed, and she smiles at me so big that my heart thumps loudly in my chest.
Mine. One word that sums up exactly how I feel about her. Mine, not because I want to keep her all to myself (though for the rest of the night that’s exactly what I plan to do), but because there’s no piece of her that I don’t want to know. I want all her words and every inch of her body. Her thoughts, her dreams, all her fantasies. I want to know them, and I want to make them come true for her.
The man stops talking and looks at me. Oh, right, that’s my cue.
“I do.” I wink at my bride.
He starts in on his spiel again, this time facing Dakota. I hold my breath. This is it. It didn’t occur to me until right now that this summer might not have been as epic for her as it has been for me. Maybe she doesn’t want to be mine and everything that comes with it.
“I do,” she says and bites her lip like she’s trying to keep herself from laughing.
I kiss her before the guy finishes pronouncing us husband and wife, then pick her up and carry her out of the chapel to recessional music.
Outside underneath the lights of Vegas, I place her feet on the ground. My chest feels so full staring at her and seeing her mirror back everything I’m feeling in her expression.
I lean down and whisper, “So much better than a threesome.”
