Page 91 of Crossing the Line
Put Love First
Paisley Grove
“If you marry me, that will nullify the contract,” Hercules says. His face the picture of unrestrained bliss. I’ve never seen him look so lit up, so unencumbered.
My mouth is caught open. I must look as happy as he does because along with being unable to believe Hercules Lord has asked me to marry him, I feel the way he looks.
But then, as he studies me, his face shifts through several contortions. “You don’t have to marry me, of course. I have another option, but I prefer this one.”
“No,” I finally say in a tight voice as tears roll freely down my face. But then I flinch, panicking because I don’t want him to misunderstand me. “I mean, yes, I’ll marry you. Yes, yes, yes!”
We’re on our feet. I’m in his arms. I’m experiencing a head-spinning kiss as he turns me in circles.
Holy moly. He just proposed, and I said yes. Holy moly.Our lips separate so we can gaze into each other’s eyes.
Finally, Hercules forces his glassy eyes off mine to regard my grandmother. “Will that be okay with you, Mrs. Grove?”
My grandmother reaches out to massage Hugo on his shoulder. Looking blissfully elated, she says, “Yes. You have my blessing.”
* * *
After breakfast,Hercules and I couldn’t stay on the island. We wanted to—there was a bedroom with our name on it at the rear of the house, facing the ocean. Hugo wanted to hear more about Hercules’s next plan, but Hercules told him he wanted to keep it to himself until the outcome was set in stone. He did, however, say that it had to do with a loophole in trust rules. And then he spouted off a bunch of numbers and some legal jargon. If I wasn’t still reeling from being out-of-this-world thrilled about becoming Mrs. Hercules Lord, I would’ve committed those numbers to memory.
However, Hercules and I have set our plans in motion. Today, we’ll get married. Tomorrow, we’ll fly back to Nova Scotia and spend the first part of our honeymoon with our grandparents before Hugo and Leslie visit their children to explain their relationship. Oddly, Hercules’s father, Christopher, already knows about them.
Now we’re on Hercules’s private airplane. I’m not stalling anymore. I am his, and he can have me. I’ve allowed Hercules to lead me to his private bedroom. We’re heading to Las Vegas, Nevada. New York would have been the easiest town to marry in, but it’s also the riskiest.
On the car ride to the airport, Hercules sent a series of messages from his cellphone, during which he asked me for all the information needed to file for a marriage license. After we boarded, he said, “We should be all set with a license as soon as the airplane touches down in Nevada.”
We’re at the foot of the bed in the airplane, holding hands, our fingers tightly interwoven. The hair on my arms stands at attention. So do my nipples. And my sex, well… the throbbing between my legs is nothing short of extreme.
But we are gazing into each other’s eyes. All of me, from head to feet, is experiencing sensory overload. My lips want his, but something is stopping me. And so I say what’s on my mind.
“I went on a date with Clive last night.” The sentence comes pouring out of my mouth like a forced confession.
Hercules grunts as he appears to thoughtfully consider what I just said. Stroking his chin, he says, “That lucky dog. Where did he take you?”
“The St. Regis.”
He grunts judgmentally as he wraps me up, and we scoot to the head of the bed. “I’m not surprised. I never would’ve taken you there.”
I’m on my back. He is stretched out on his side, slowly unbuttoning my blouse.
“I know,” I sigh. My body aches for his hands on my skin.
“I would’ve just taken you to the real Rome.”
My lips stretch into a naughty little feline smile. “That was exactly what I thought.”
I chuckle right before his lips land on mine. His tongue tastes divine. He tastes different now that he’s going to be my husband. I luxuriate in what’s to come as he finishes unbuttoning my blouse.
Eager to speed up the pace, I take his shirt by the hem, and for a second, we lose lip contact so that I can get it up and over his head. He frees my breasts from my bra. Tossing my head back, I inhale a cold drink of air as my nipple experiences his warm, wet mouth.
“Mr. Lord, you have an important message,” a woman’s voice says through a speaker attached to the wall.
With my nipple cooling from the wetness and from the abandonment of his warm mouth, I can feel Hercules’s breath upon the tip as he mutters a string of curse words.
“I’ll be right back. Get naked,” he says before rushing out of the bedroom.
* * *
I’ve beennaked for what feels like a mighty long time. I’m underneath the luxurious duvet. My body is warm. As I stare at the ceiling, my eyelids are getting heavier by the second. Hercules has been gone for more than twenty minutes. I yawn and close my eyes and contemplate getting dressed and going out to see what’s going on. But I can’t move. I’m too comfortable, and so very tired.
Then I turn onto my side. It has been a jam-packed morning following a late night. And after Hercules called to tell me that he had this day planned for us, I couldn’t get back to sleep. I’ve been tired all day. I have battled sleepiness since after finishing breakfast with our grandparents, and now sleep has won.
