Page 94 of Yours, Now and Always
“And when you’re being unreasonable? I send you to your room?”
“Nothing was said about that. Besides, when am I ever unreasonable?”
Fuck I love her.
I brush my mouth over hers. “Princess, there’s no fucking way we’re getting separate duvets. You can remove that idea from your head. Feel free to take charge of the joint calendar. It’ll fucking save me arguing with Lucy over shit. As for us arguing, I won’t bother with texting if I’ve got something to say. I’ll track you down and you won’t be leaving my sight until we sort it out.” I bring my hand up and wrap it loosely around her throat, over her collar. “And I’ll still be eye-fucking your tits when I’m ninety. So get used to it.”
She fists my vest, her eyes darkening. “You better be. Because I plan on being your favorite problem until we die.”
Then she drags me down for a kiss that damn near shoots my restraint to shit.
“And I might even start flashing you every now and then,” she promises with a teasing glint. “You know, just to reward your commitment.”
My thumb rubs over her collar. “You flash me now and we’re not making it to the reception.”
She laughs, and it’s the easy kind of laugh that I only ever get from her. The one that says she feels safe and loved. “Don’t tempt me. You know I live to derail your plans.”
“You married a man who builds new plans in seconds, Princess. Try me.”
She just smiles at me. Then, wrinkles her nose. “Do we have to go?”
I know she doesn’t really mean that, but fuck, I love that she feels it too.
“You’re the one who said we had to give everyone the show, sweetheart.”
“Ugh. I hate that you have such a good memory,” she says before stepping out of my embrace and glancing around the room, looking for something.
A moment later, she’s got tissues and is cleaning the lipstick off our faces. She then digs through the makeup bag Lucy put together for her and finds the exact lipstick shade she wore today—because my assistant is good at her job—and carefully reapplies it.
I watch her touch up her makeup, fix her hair, and smooth down her dress.
“There,” she says finally. “That’s better.”
“Shame.”
She shakes her head at me, but she’s smiling. “Gage?—”
“I preferred the other version.” The thoroughly kissed and marked up version.
Now she rolls her eyes. But she doesn’t respond to that. Instead, she glances down at herself, at her dress, and starts fishing around in it.
I frown. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for something.” Her hand disappears further into her dress, and I’m trying very hard not to get distracted by the logistics of what’s happening right now.
“In your bra?”
“I put it there before the ceremony.” She’s digging around with increasing urgency now, checking the other side. “IknowI put it there.”
“Amelia, what exactly are you looking for?”
She stops. Looks up at me. “Shit.”
“What?”
“I don’t have a tampon.”
I’m thrown back to Ethan’s wedding. The night I found Amelia walking like she was in a heist movie. The night that changed my entire life.
