Page 111 of Mr. Brightside
Turns out a wedding can come together fast if you have a lot of money to throw at it. And if your husband already has a dozen Pinterest boards dedicated to every detail of his ideal day.
We chose a destination wedding—something Cory always dreamed about—and timed it during winter break so we could accommodate his school schedule as well as winter breaks for the girls and his siblings.
We flew all our family there—Abuela, Tori and Rhett, both of his parents and their families, Julian, Ashleigh, Fiona and Amelia—and we spent a week at an all-inclusive resort on a combination bachelor party/wedding/second honeymoon extravaganza.
Rhett’s still harping on me about spending more time in the room with my husband than living it up at the bachelor party he planned. Sure, I used to have a vision for what one would entail and how much I’d love it. But the rowdy boy in me wasn’t feeling the bachelor party vibes. Plus, our honeymoon suite had a private infinity pool and a steam room. Has heseenmy husband in swim trunks?
Speaking of my husband… I scan the crowd for Cory and find him in the middle of the dance floor with Lia, surrounded by a gaggle of children. He’s been taking turns dancing with my nieces and his siblings for the last half hour. It’s adorable, but I’ve made the rounds and accepted a million congratulations by myself. I’m getting anxious to have my turn with him.
I sidle up from behind, gripping his hips as he sways in time to the music. He leans back into me, giving me a subtle hip grind that has me instantly hardening. Lia rolls her eyes at us, but I don’t miss her knowing smile. She leaves us alone and heads toward Tori and Rhett, who are not-so-subtly making out in one of the back booths of my bar. The place really is a mad house tonight. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“Co-ry,” I purr in his ear, loving the way he melts into me as my hands brush up his sides. “Fuck, baby. I wish this party would just end already.”
He spins around and cocks one eyebrow, his gorgeous chocolate brown eyes dancing in delight. He knows I’m messing with him, but he still takes the bait.
“And why do you want our wedding reception to ‘just end already’?” he mocks, lowering his voice an octave and doing an impression that sounds nothing like me. “We haven’t even cut the cake.”
I glance over at the four-tier monstrosity from Della’s Bakery. Each layer is a different flavor. The thing could literally feed three hundred people. But it’s what he wanted. And all I want is to make him happy.
“I’m tired of sharing you,” I whine, pulling him into my body and circling my arms around his neck as he continues to roll his hips to the beat of the music. He’s teetering dangerously close to working me up a little too much.
“Baby,” I warn, leveling him with acool off all your sexy hip swayinglook.
He bites down on his lip and eye fucks me before leaning in close.
“You get me to yourself all weekend,” he whispers into my ear. “As soon as we get home tonight, you won’t have to share.” He rolls theRinsharefor so long I feel a drop of precum accumulate on my dick.
Fuck. Me.
I work my hands under his suit jacket and pull his body tight against mine. I press my forehead into his with enough force to get his attention.
“You have to slow dance with me until the raging boner you just gave me goes away,” I huff out.
“Oh, do I now?” he teases.
“Yes, you fucking do,” I retort as I let him guide us on the dance floor. I roll my hips forward and sway in response to his rhythm. “For better or for worse, baby. This is your lot in life now. You’re stuck with me.”
He bites down on that juicy bottom lip I just want to suck into my mouth before replying.
“Or maybe we can sneak back to the liquor cage, and I can take care of my husband a different way?”
I’m grinning so big my face hurts.
“Now you’re talking.” I spin him in my arms, grasp him by the shoulders, and use his body as a shield as we circumvent our friends and family on the dance floor to sneak away for a private party for two.
Ilovebeing married to this man.
Chapter 47
Cory
6 Years Later
“Papi…nigh-nights.”
I awkwardly hold my daughter in the narrow waiting room chair and nuzzle her downy soft hair.
“I know, princesa. I know.”