Bared Souls - Ellie Wade Page 0,98

we needed one and the latter because Alma’s only request was that our wedding be photographed. She wants the memory of this day in print.

I haven’t seen her since our marathon shower sex this morning. Nothing turns Alma on more than being a bride. After we made love under the spray of the shower until my lips were sore and my body was spent, she left to get ready for the wedding.

Now, I’m standing here, on the pristine sand, in a gray suit. Wind blows lightly across the beach. The palms of the trees sway in a rhythm at my back, creating their own island wedding march, accompanied by the splashing of the waves and the calls of the tropical birds.

I see her foot first as she steps out of the line of palm trees and into view. Tears well in my eyes, and my chest aches. I bite the inside of my lip, holding in my emotion. She’s wearing a simple dress, white and almost sheer. It hugs her chest and waist and then flows in the breeze behind her. There’s a slit up one side, and her leg peeks through with every step. Her deep brown hair cascades in waves down over her bare shoulders and back. The bright sun makes her natural auburn highlights shine. She wears minimal makeup, as always, just a small amount to highlight her already-gorgeous features. Her tan skin looks utterly delectable against the white dress and beach backdrop.

Tears shine in her enchanting brown eyes as she nears. She holds a simple bouquet of pink and white lilies, and I swear she looks like a princess, a perfect and pure angel, and I’m the lucky son of a bitch who gets to marry her.

The wedding officiant gets to the important parts—simple vows and I dos. I told her I didn’t want any fluff. Just the basics. Alma knows every part of my soul, as I do hers. We don’t need poems and scriptures of love from a stranger on our wedding to tell us about commitment. We live our love story every day. It’s one of forgiveness and hope and a love that transcends pain, a love that heals and gives life.

The minister says the words I’ve been waiting to hear, “You may now kiss the bride.”

I take Alma Harding, my wife, into my arms and kiss her with every promise I have.

“How do you feel?” I ask against her lips.

“Amazing,” she whispers against my mouth. Pulling my face closer to hers, she presses her forehead against mine.

“I love you more than anything in this world,” I tell her.

“And I love you the same,” she answers.

We sign the marriage documents and take some more photos. Then, the two party crashers leave, and it’s just me and my wife.

I thread my fingers through hers. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“I figured you’d want to get me out of this dress as soon as possible,” she teases.

“Oh, I do, but you in that dress is the best foreplay there is. I want to watch you wear it for a little while longer.”

“You like it?” She picks up the light skirt and fans it to the side.

“I love it. It’s perfectly you.”

We kick off our shoes and walk along the sand, where the ocean laps onto the beach.

“I can’t believe we’re married, and I love the ring, by the way. It’s incredible.” Alma holds her hand up to admire the set of bands on her finger.

“I thought you’d love it.”

“I do, and I love you.” She kicks her foot across the water, splashing some onto my pant leg.

“Oh, really?” I raise a taunting eyebrow.

Alma giggles and starts to run, but I circle my arms around her waist, picking her up before she can escape. She kicks wildly, laughing as I walk the two of us deep out into the water.

“Oh my gosh, Leo!” Alma shrieks when we’re waist deep in water. “Your suit! And my dress!” She chuckles.

“Yeah? So?” I say. “The water feels good, right?”

She spins in my arms, so she’s facing me, her arms wrapped around my neck and her legs circling my waist. “You’re crazy.” She presses her lips to mine.

“For you”—I kiss her back—“Mrs. Harding.”

“Hmm … that’s hot. Say it again.” Her tongue licks up my neck, and she pulls on my earlobe with her mouth.

I sigh, content. “I’m crazy for you, Mrs. Harding.”

“Alma Harding. That has a nice ring, yes?” Her wet hands mess my hair.

“Sure does.” I hold her against me

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