Baewatch - Xavier Neal Page 0,76
grow in acceleration to match the rate of his affections being verbally expelled against my ear. It isn’t long before his loving words are met by shaking sobs of elation from both pairs of lips. Perpetual pulsations are instantaneously met by torrid tides that I can hardly fathom going this long in my life without ever having felt.
Together we shatter and shudder, sealing our souls in such a way I know neither of us will ever be the same.
And I’m a thousand percent okay with that.
I never want to go back to a life without Ax.
Without us. And, by him placing this ring on my finger, I think it’s safe to say the feeling is mutual.
Chapter 10
I admittedly have a shit ton of things to be grateful for today. There’s the fact that I’m alive and healthy – we’re talking about above average test results for a man my age. The fact that I’ve got a lucrative business and using my law skills to make a real difference in someone’s life rather than just a dent in their bank account. The fact I’ve got a roof over my head that’s directly across from the water I practically live in like I’m a Merman by day and human by night, a four legged companion to always play with, and access to the freshest seafood a guy could dream of. Not to mention, an adorable niece and nephew who have me anxious to start my own family, which leads to what I’m most fucking thankful for this holiday.
The love of my life agreeing to be my wife.
Truthfully, I’d be just as happy if I had none of the other shit and only that.
But, you know what I’m not grateful for?
Having to wear dress pants instead of boardshorts.
Why do I have to be uncomfortable for the day?
Why do I have to wear a tie and comb back my hair like I’m about to step foot in a courtroom rather than the house I grew up in?
Eh.
Guess I should be happy that the leather shoes on my feet don’t have to have buckles on them.
Poor pilgrims.
I exit our bathroom, still fighting the navy-blue tie around my neck during my relocation to the living room.
Brooklyn doesn’t even look up from where she’s sitting at the dining room table, fiddling with her heels, to reprimand me, “Stop that.”
“How do you-”
“You do the same shit right before you leave for court,” she informs as she grabs her other shoe to wiggle on. “And, right before you enter court, too.”
“I don’t like ties.”
“I know.”
“Or suits.”
“I know.”
“Or shoes that have my feet in prison instead of free to touch the sand at a moment’s notice.”
She shoots me a mirth-filled smirk. “I know.”
My grump is proceeded by me pausing the next round of complaints to admire how beautiful she looks in her taupe dress that has a sophisticated v neckline and a slit low enough not to be considered trashy yet high enough to make my mouth water. The strappy nude heels I don’t recognize add to the growing urge I now have to bend her over the couch and just slip inside.
Fuck. Me.
Bare shit?
The best shit.
Never going back.
You know, the longer I stare at her in this, the more my ship is torn in two.
One end has me wanting to sail towards praising my sister-in-law for helping pick out a dress that’s classy and, most likely, will impress my parents, while the other end has me wanting to sail towards hating her for putting my long-legged mermaid in something my dick is incapable of resisting.
“Ax,” Brooklyn’s tone becomes scolding again, “stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m a new board you wanna test out on the water.”
My smirk is instant over the comparison.
“We cannot be late to this lunch.”
I slowly stroll closer with my eyes fixated on her toned, brown legs I kept in the air most of the night.
“Or, is it linner?” She casually stands, which only showcases them even further.
Yeah, I’m gonna need to get my hands wrapped around those again.
“Is linner a real thing?”
Or maybe I’ll just slide my dick out and rub them between her –
“Ax,” my fiancée’s hand lands lovingly on my cheek, “we do not have time for whatever it is you’re thinking about.”
The second our gazes connect I offer her a crooked grin. “Pretty sure there’s always time to please my fiancée.”
Her body immediately melts at the term in the same style it has since I asked last night.
Like the label