Page 85 of On a Flight to Sydney
“One wasn’t enough, huh?” I say with a laugh. He certainly has my full attention.
“We leave on Friday for Tahoe.” Our eyes hold across the table while his thumb gently swipes back and forth over my hand. “I was thinking, what if we get married while we’re there?”
“Like, elope?” I ask, my voice filled with the surprise I feel. That definitely wasn’t what I expected him to ask.
“Yeah.” He laughs, but I can still see the nerves under the surface because I haven’t answered him yet. He continues rambling. “I know you might want to do a wedding here but—”
I finally cut him off. “You don’t have to convince me, Wes.” I lean across the table to brush my lips against his, somehow avoiding spilling the champagne in the process. “I want to marry you, and I don’t want to wait, so this is perfect.”
I watch his shoulders relax and his smile reach his eyes again.
“Oh my god,” I exclaim as it all really sinks in. “That means we’re getting marriedthismonth,thisyear. How crazy is that?” I shake my head, closing my eyes in complete awe. There’s less than three weeks left in December, and I’ll be a married woman before it’s over.
“Yes, Grey, it does. I can’t imagine a better way to ring in the new year than with you by my side, and a second ring on your finger.”
He hands me another glass of champagne and we toast to a future that I couldn’t be more excited to experience, with a man I met by chance on a flight to Sydney.
EPILOGUE
Joss
New Year’s Eve - Lake Tahoe
Istand at the window, satin pooling around my feet, watching the swirls of snow blur the view of the mountains. Wes booked the honeymoon suite for our last few nights in Tahoe. It’s opulent and over the top, but there was no convincing him otherwise. I see myself reflected back in the large windows that line the room and smile at the woman standing there in her wedding dress.
With less than a week in Sydney before we boarded our flight to Tahoe, I didn’t have a lot of time to dress shop, but I lucked into finding the perfect dress in the very first store. Or maybe it wasn’t luck, maybe it was just meant to be. Like me and Wes.
I turn when I hear the door open behind me and lose my breath at the sight of Wes in a tuxedo. The deep navy-blue jacket fits his broad shoulders in a way that should be illegal, tapering down to his waist where it hits exquisitely over tailored pants to match. I want to ask him to turn around so that I can take in what I know they’re doing for his ass. The bow tie at his neck is tied immaculately. I want to ruin it—pull it free and haul him to me by the ends.
Later, Joss, you can do that later.
The smirk on his face says he knows exactly what I was thinking, but it slips into something softer as he takes me in. This is the first he’s seen of my dress. His eyes trail over the wide neckline and my exposed collarbones, down the fitted long-sleeve bodice that hugs every curve before flaring out at my knees into a small, delicate train. He takes the same amount of time raking his eyes over me on the way back up my body, and I can’t help but blush.
When our eyes finally meet again, I let my lips tip into a wicked smile. Then I turn around to face the windows, giving Wes an unobstructed view of my favorite part of the dress. The fabric cuts low to the small of my back, leaving little to the imagination.
His shaky exhalation is barely a breath. “Damn.”
I look over my shoulder with a coy smile, like I had no idea this would be his favorite part too. I laugh when I see his throat bob on a swallow, but it’s the heated gaze he pins me with that makes my throat clench. My hair is styled and pinned in such a way that the cascade of curls falls over my left shoulder, and the look in Wes’s eyes says he wants to sink his hands into them.
He finally breaks the tension by clearing his throat. “You look incredible.” There’s a reverence to the words that makes me both catch fire and melt for him.
“You look pretty damn good yourself, Mr. Anderson.” My voice is breathy with the heat expanding between us. He finally moves from where he stopped dead in the doorway, walking toward me with a purpose.
I turn and throw my hands up in front of me to stop him, because there’s a determined look in his eyes that can only mean one thing. “Don’t you dare!” I laugh-scream the words as he pushes past my outstretched hands, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me flush against him. His smile is dangerous, both dimples popping.
He doesn’t kiss me though. He just holds me, clearly knowing I’ll kill him if he messes up the makeup I worked so hard to apply. His forehead meets mine as he breathes his next words against my skin. “Seriously, if everyone wasn’t waiting downstairs, I’d have you out of this dress right now.”
I shiver at his words, feeling my heart rate spike. The butterflies that have been happily flapping their wings in my belly all day begin anew, but in a much more frantic fashion.
“But,” he says, moving his face so his lips coast just outside my ear, “they are,andI don’t want to wait another minute to call you my wife.”
My wife.Those words are like an electric shock, a live wire, lighting up my entire body, and I feel myself flush even more for him.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t want to wait another minute for you to be my husband either.” I bring my hands up fromwhere they landed on his hips, my fingers skimming up his lapels. They curl at the top to pull him to me for the briefest kiss—thank goodness for smudge-proof lipstick—before I pull back.
“Are you ready?” His voice is confident and sure now as he steps back, holding a hand out to me.
I slip my hand into his. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my whole life.”
