Page 30 of Unwrapped By the Grumpy Mountain Man
“The rings?” the court-appointed officiant asks.
“I have them,” Ivy smiles, wiping a tear.
Violet’s father, Scott, stares at his feet as Ivy laughs, handing Ivy the ring she insisted on picking out for me. She then hands me the velvet box I asked her to hold earlier. There was no time to pick out and give Violet her engagement ring two days ago. She’ll be seeing both the ring and her band for the first time.
My hands anxiously tremble as I open it, hoping she likes them. I rushed to the jeweler downtown and was prepared to drive my ass to Portland if none of them felt right. But then I saw it, a golden yellow diamond set on a delicate platinum band sprinkled with smaller diamonds. The band is also delicate with alternating white and yellow diamonds. I noticed she wore silver the last time I saw her and picked according to that.
Violet gasps, covering her mouth. “Hudson.” Her sweet voice breathing out my name, does things to my body. Her eyes are watering when she looks up. “This is too much.”
I shake my head. “Not enough.” I take them out of the box and hand it to Ivy, who’s not even hiding she’s giddy and tearful.
“Repeat after me,” the officiant states, and I do as I slide the rings together over her finger.
“I give you this ring, as a symbol of my love and devotion, as we join our lives together, today, tomorrow, and for as long as our love shall last.” A perfect fit.
Violet is next, reciting her vows as she slides the black band with a line of onyx stone in the center onto my ring finger. Also, a perfect fit. The weight of it somehow feels right.
“And now,” he continues, “by the authority vested in me by the State of Oregon, I now pronounce you…husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.” He smiles at me.
Ivy is clapping, and I’m suspended in time.
Violet takes a step forward. We’re no longer in the middle of this cold building, surrounded by strangers, but we’re in our stratosphere, with the world around us below. Anticipation blossoms as I step closer and take her beautiful face in my hands. Her eyes momentarily close before they open with new life. She places her hands over my chest and tips up on her toes.
I lean down, bringing our faces closer, rubbing my thumb across her soft cheek. Right before our lips touch, I whisper unconsciously.
“My wife.”
Her intake of breath tightens my groin. “My husband,” she whispers back.
I kiss her. Or she kisses me. I could not say. Her plump lips, silky with a soft gloss, surrender to my mouth. What started as a deep, confident peck turns intense yet intimate. My fingers comb into her short waves, holding her head as she tilts it and grips the lapels of my jacket.
I drop one hand and wrap it around her waist, pulling her body closer, keeping her steady as I introduce my tongue, gettingmy first taste of my angel. The whimper I’m sure only I can hear has my hands digging into her waist as she flicks her tongue out to meet mine.
A sharp slam of a door jerks us apart. Panting, I look over and notice her father is gone. I can’t seem to let her go. I keep her in my arms as I look down at her blown-out pupils, her full cleavage heaving against my torso.
“It’ll be okay,” I whisper about her father.
Her fingers pull me down by the lapels again, and she delivers a soft, sweet kiss on my lips. “I know.”
The glint of her rings catches my attention. Looking down at her hands on me, those rings on her left hand, a possessive need to claim her in front of the world, overwhelms me. I am hit with a need to keep anything willing to hurt her away.
I told her six months.
I fear that at the end of those six months, letting her go will be the last thing I’m willing to do.
CHAPTER EIGHT
VIOLET
"And that's the last of it," I say, setting down a box of books in Hudson's living room. My living room now, too, I remind myself. The stunning platinum rings on my finger catch the light, still foreign and fascinating on my hand.
Hudson carries in my suitcase, his movements efficient and careful. "You travel light."
"Didn't seem necessary to bring everything right away," I tell him, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Just the essentials for now."
In truth, I wasn't sure how much space to claim in his life. Our arrangement might be temporary, but six months is still a substantial amount of time. Long enough for my heart to get dangerously entangled if I'm not careful.
That kiss at the courthouse still burns on my lips. I expected something light, just for show. What I got instead was a claiming that weakened my knees and scattered my thoughts. Even now, watching him move around the house—our house—sends little thrills of electricity through my body.
