Wedded to a Wayne: A Finn World Holiday Romance - Page 40

“I don’t think this Santa is as good as last year’s,” Barry starts as I set her down. The three of them head toward the house, leaving me to follow at a slower pace through the snow.

I’m getting married again.

I guess I’m going to have to call in a favor after all. I’ll need more than a miracle to pull off the kind of wedding my wife deserves and my mother wants in less than a week.

As luck would have it, Bronte is friends with a senator’s wife who’s a sucker for romance.

Epilogue

Tanisha

Christmas Eve…

“Is the water warm enough?”

His voice is a deep, lazy rumble against my back, his full lips coasting my neck.

“It must be,” I murmur, tilting my head to give him more access. “Or maybe it’s you. Something is definitely making it hot in here.”

He chuckles quietly, his hands cupping the water and drizzling it over my sensitive breasts. “You said all you wanted fo

r Christmas was a warm bath. I figured I might as well go all out.”

“It works for me.” I moan when he traces the water’s path with his fingers. “After that five-course extravaganza and a few hours of caroling, this tub was all I could think about.”

The night’s events run through my mind. A restaurant full of Waynes, Finns, and my best friend’s horde of foster brothers. It was pure madness, in the best kind of way. Rick and Matilda were nice enough to sit with my parents, who seemed a bit overwhelmed by it all. But they’re trying. And I’m glad they care enough to want to get to know Lang and Barry. I think my aunt would approve.

At the party, I recognized so many of the same faces that I’d seen at my slightly non-traditional, moderately over-the-top wedding less than a month ago, and it gave me a sense of belonging. I was part of this. The blended families, these generations of love displayed in every possible combination, all crammed together for one night to celebrate the season.

I would never be the maiden aunt watching from the sidelines, though I was wearing my tiara. And I wasn’t just the schedule queen anymore, helping other people find the perfect arrangement for their growing family. Though I was still plotting with Joey about the interesting Jae situation.

I was a wife and mother now. A Wayne. I’m so happy, I wouldn’t even mind being a cliché. As long as it’s of the happily ever after variety.

“I can’t believe my mother convinced them to go caroling,” Emerson says against my shoulder. “I was sure they’d sneak away to the pub at the first opportunity.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “You clearly don’t understand the Irish. Pubs are where loud singing in public places was born. It’s kind of their thing. The crowds that started following them around, on the other hand? I don’t think your mother was expecting that. But she should have. No woman can resist that kind of boy band.”

It’s going to be front-page news tomorrow. I know it. Handsome Finns and Waynes serenade a grateful city on Christmas Eve.

He grunts, shifting beneath me and adjusting my thighs so they’re spread on either side of his. “Stop talking about other men while I’m giving you your present.”

He starts massaging them and I let my head fall back on his shoulder. “More of that.”

“You walked too much today.”

“It was worth it, so stop worrying. This is my present. Be possessive again.”

“You want possessive? Tonight, Joey told me he was getting you a stuffed M’Baku and I almost lost my temper.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have told Joey about Emerson’s reaction to my Winston crush. I’m used to telling him everything, but my everything has gotten a little too interesting for tea and conversation since I met my husband. “He was trying to get under your skin.”

“It worked,” he grumbles, his massage moving subtly higher. “I’ll never be able to enjoy that movie again.”

“Yes, you will,” I gasp, rocking my hips back against his thick arousal. “Just keep your eyes on all those female warriors and you’ll be fine.”

“There’s only one female warrior I want.” His hands move into action, one squeezing my breast and the other intimately cupping my sex. “Is this the kind of bath you were imagining?”

I moan again when two fingers slip inside me. “It’s so much better.”

Tags: R.G. Alexander Romance
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