Marquita Valentine - Not Over You

Gloria stuck her head inside the room. “May I come in?”

“Yes, of course.”

Gloria walked in, carrying a length of lace. “This was my wedding veil, and I’d be honored if you would wear it.”

Automatically, Summer reached up to pat her hair. Jemma Leigh had gathered it at the crown, leaving most of it loose, with flowers woven in. “Will it fit?”

“Turn around and let’s see.” Gloria tucked the comb in, fluffing the lace a little. Their gazes met in the full-length mirror propped against the wall. Tears were in Gloria’s. “Que bonita,” she sighed. “It was my mother’s great-grandmother’s veil. She brought it with her to California from Spain, as a part of her wedding trousseau. It was an arranged marriage, but since then, only love has been the reason for marriages in this family.”

Nausea made Summer’s stomach churn. This wasn’t love. This was a marriage of necessity. “I’ll give it back to you, for Isabella—”

“No, it’s for the firstborn or his bride, and one day, you will do the same.” Gloria kissed her cheek. “My newest daughter, you are a beautiful bride.”

Summer wanted to sit on the floor and bawl like a baby, but not before she gave the veil back. There was no way she could go through with this, no way she could hurt his entire family like this. But just as she reached for the veil, Jemma Leigh came barreling through the door, took one look at her, and burst into tears. Again.

“Oh my word, Summer,” Jemma Leigh exclaimed, placing a hand over her heart. Tears spilled over her lashes and onto her cheeks. “That was just the finishing touch we needed.”

“It’s my something borrowed,” Summer said.

Gloria clucked her tongue. “No, this is your something old.”

Jemma Leigh gestured to Summer’s ears. “The earrings are something borrowed and blue.”

“A penny for your shoes.” Isabella’s voice cheerfully rang out.

Summer wiggled her toes. “I’m barefoot.”

Isabella shrugged. “I don’t think you need it anyway. Gabriel is the nervous one.”

Summer blinked. “He’s nervous?”

“Of course he is, he’s marrying the woman he’s loved since he was fifteen,” Gloria said, and the world tilted on Summer. She felt dizzy. She felt like a fraud.

“Looks like it’s contagious,” Isabella said with a little laugh, helping Summer to the bed. “Need anything?”

“I need to sit down, is all,” Summer gasped, breathing slowly and gripping the bedpost.

Jemma Leigh and Gloria exchanged smiling looks. Summer felt even worse.

“Sit down and drink some water, sugar,” Jemma Leigh said, helping her to a high-backed chair and handing her a glass. “Don’t worry about your lipstick.”

Summer sat there, drinking water, while she debated on whether or not she should run away. She had no idea why anyone called it having cold feet, because she felt hot all over.

Before she knew it, Gloria and Jemma Leigh were herding her out the door and into the backyard. They walked with her to the beach, where everyone was sitting in rows of chairs as they waited on her.

The sun shone bright as music played. She could hear the waves lapping on the shore. A few seagulls cried out. It was perfectly warm, perfectly breezy, and she was a perfect fraud.

She blinked, trying to get her eyes to adjust. Gabriel came into focus, standing in front of an arch of roses and ivy. He looked so handsome standing there, dressed in a pale blue shirt and khaki pants. His dark hair gleamed in the sun, as did his tan skin. Her mouth twisted a little when she realized he was as barefoot as she was.

He smiled, his entire face lighting up with joy, and it seemed his dark blue eyes glowed.

She couldn’t help but go to him, then, and take his arm, listening to the words and repeating her vows. All she could see and think and feel and breathe in those moments were Gabriel.

Angel.

He kissed her, and she kissed him back, not wanting this moment to end. Not wanting reality to crash and make her want to burn this time in her life away. Not wanting anything or anyone but this man, standing in front of her and kissing her like he loved her.

Everyone clapped and cheered for them. The sound snapped her out of her thoughts.

Get a hold of yourself.

Summer stepped back, face flushing. Gabriel’s face was flushed as well.

“You make a beautiful bride, Mrs. Edwards,” he said, his voice husky with desire.

Mrs. Edwards. She smiled at him, and for once in her life, she had no comeback at all.

They were married.

To each other.

Forever, according to their vows and to Gabriel himself.

Married.

Until death do us part.

MARRIED.

She couldn’t stop thinking of that word, and all it meant to him, all it didn’t mean to her, while the wedding party was hugged, kissed, and wished nothing but the best.

“I like the flowers in your hair,” Gabriel said as they sat at an elaborately decorated table just for the two of them. “The veil’s pretty, too.”

“You mother gave me the veil.”

His dark brows rose. “Did she?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t bear to look at him, so she glanced at their feet. “I can’t thank your parents enough for doing this. I hadn’t thought of all the things that go into weddings. They’re not exactly looked upon too favorably in my family.”

“Yet, Rose married anyway.”

Before she could answer, someone tapped a spoon against their glass. So, of course, she and Gabriel had to kiss.

And, of course, everyone had to cheer and say awww.

And,of course, she wanted to go throw herself into the ocean.

“Tonight can’t come fast enough,” Gabriel said, brushing his mouth over hers. She shivered in response, her skin coming alive at the feel of him.

Summer tried to smile, tried to be cheerful and happy, but all she could manage was a little, “Mmm-hmm.”

It wasn’t until they had eaten and were driving away, with shoes tied to the bumper and a Just Married sign on the back of Gabriel’s truck, did she realize that she had no clue where they were going. She didn’t expect a honeymoon. There wasn’t enough time to plan one, and she had no passport to go anywhere.

“Where are we going?” she asked, because she was at least curious about his plans.

He grinned at her. “Home.”

Gabriel held out his arms to Summer, and she went willingly into them, her body shaking. They were in the master bedroom of his house, and she knew what would happen next. She knew what he expected and what she wanted, and she knew that they were the same.

Still…

“Nervous?” he asked, his hands gliding down her back.

“I’ve done this before, remember?” She wanted to smack herself for saying that, for reminding him of the rumors and the truths he thought he knew about her.

“You don’t have pretend with me, not anymore,” he murmured.

She made a noise in her throat. “I’m not pretending.”

He leaned back, gazing down at her. “What you think I want isn’t what I want.”

“How do you know what I think?”

“It’s all over your face.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her cheek. “I want you, Summer Jean Holland Edwards and no one else. I want to make love to you all night and tomorrow and the next day. I want to love you for so long and so good that you’ll never want our honeymoon to end.”

Wanting she could understand. Sexually needing her, she could handle. “Lofty goals for a virgin, don’t you think?” she said with a teasing grin.

“I might still be a virgin, but I did some research so I wouldn’t be totally unprepared.” His gaze skittered away, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “But I completely understand if you’d like to wait until later.”

“Look who’s the nervous one now.” She stepped out of his embrace.

His gaze snapped back to hers. “I’m not nervous. I’m trying to be considerate.”

“Maybe I don’t want considerate.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Maybe I want your hands and mouth all over me.” Boldly, she reached out and cupped him between his legs, licking her lips at the thickness and length she found. He groaned, low in his throat, and her confidence grew. “Maybe I want this inside of me. Right. Now.”

Gabriel didn’t move, and for one horrible minute, she thought he didn’t want her at all. But then his arm snaked out, and he grabbed her wrist, tugging her to him. He kissed her, hotly and tenderly, all the while working at the zipper of her dress.

Finally, it gave. He pushed the straps over her shoulders and down her arms, to where it fell and pooled around her feet. His own clothes were the next to go, until he stood hard and proud for her. All hard, tight abs with muscular thighs and long legs. His shoulders were broad and his arms, good Lord, his arms were muscular but lean.

“Do I meet your approval?” he asked, looking at her from beneath his lashes.

She gave him a saucy smile. “You’ll do.”

Grinning, he took her in his arms once more, sucked on her bottom lip and then glided his tongue along the seams of her mouth until she opened for him. The room seemed to move, but no, it was just him, guiding her to his big bed and laying her down.

He stretched out beside her, one hand propping up his head while the other touched her, traced the contours of her body. “Take off the bra.”

She unsnapped the front and threw it across the room, anxious for his touch. But to her surprise, he didn’t touch her breasts at all, just made lazy, wide circles around them. Her nipples grew hard, and his dark gaze didn’t miss it.