Only Trick

Trick pulls me into his chest, an unavoidable smirk curling his lips.

Drawing my head back and cocking it to the side, I squint my eyes. “Oh. My. God! Did you just plan my wedding with a complete stranger right in front of me?”

Trick cups my neck and pulls me closer until my head tips back to look up at him. “A marriage ceremony, not a wedding.” His lips press to mine as his other hand tugs at the tie to my bikini top while he moans into my mouth.

“No.” I push away leaving him panting with an insatiable hunger in his mischievous eyes. “If I don’t get a say in my ceremony, then you don’t get this…” I shake my head while retying my top “…until I legally bear your name.”

His eyes stretch wider. “Are you refusing to have sex with me?”

“Yes.” Pivoting in the sand, I grab my towel and walk to the house with my shoulders back and an extra sway in my hips.

As I pour a cup of juice, the veranda door opens and Trick walks in completely naked.

The glass jug clanks to the counter as my grip weakens.

“I’ll be in the shower, in case you want to watch.”

I gulp down the juice in my mouth. “No need. I already pleasured myself while you were doing yoga,” I lie, because damn his arrogance.

I hear a thud and “fuck,” presumably my cocky, soon-to-be husband literally tripping over my words on his way up the stairs.

*

I feel like I’m in a car with the top down, the warm love of the sun on my face, the breeze dancing with my hair, the radio breathing an endless serenade, and the man of my dreams driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on my leg—the occasional gentle squeeze to remind me this perfect dream is my life.

“Where did you go?” I ask as Trick walks up behind me while I attempt to add a few purposeful curls to my hair.

He wraps his arms around my waist and nuzzles his lips into my neck, eyes on our reflection in the mirror. “You’ll see.”

I frown in the mirror.

“Why the face, sexy?”

“I need Gemmie. It’s my wed—I mean my ceremony day…” I roll my eyes at him “…and my hair’s going to look like a damn bird’s nest.”

“You look perfect.” He nibbles the sensitive skin below my ear.

I sigh. Tossing aside my curling iron, I shrug out of his grip to go get my phone.

“Where are you going?” he calls, but I ignore him.

Grabbing my phone off the kitchen counter, I do what any girl in my shoes would do. I text my BFF.

Me: Dear BFF – I need you … I can’t tell my fiancé this, but it’s my wedding day and I want to look amazing for him. He doesn’t understand that for one day I want to feel as beautiful as he says I am. My hair is rebelling and my skin looks blotchy from the sun. Can you help me?

I tap the screen of my phone for a few moments until it chimes.

Trick: Come.

My smile grows … my heart overflows.

When I stop in the doorway to the bathroom, Trick crooks his finger at me. Tears sting the back of my eyes as I walk to him and he lifts me up on the vanity. “My friend is going to be the envy of the ocean and chase away the sunset with her beauty. Then she’s going to marry a guy completely undeserving of her love.”

I try to swallow back emotion as he catches my tear with his thumb. “You’re not going to stop until you’ve claimed every single piece of my heart, are you?” I whisper.

He ghosts his fingers along my jaw, tilting his head to the side with a gripping intensity to his eyes. “I’m not going to stop until I feel your soul take my last breath.”

I think his just took mine.

*

There’s nothing he can’t do. Sometimes I actually hope he’ll choke on his food or twist an ankle just so I can be the one with the skills. Even chatty Gemmie would fall speechless if she could see how Trick has transformed my stubborn flames into a controlled fire—stunning and mesmerizing. My make-up—a work of art.

After applying lotion to every inch of my body, I emerge from the bathroom. Trick looks out our windows with his hands resting in the pockets of his dark denim jeans, fitted white button down dress shirt hugging his every curve with the sleeves rolled up, tats on show. Melt …

“Come.”

Melt some more …

I follow him into the closet.

“Trick …” I hold back the tears because I will not mess up his hard work.

He eases my robe back over my shoulders until it slinks to the floor at my feet. Then he takes the white strapless sundress with a lacy overlay off the hanger. I step into it as he holds it. While he zips the back I run my hands over the delicate material. “Where did you get this?”