They started with the Paris Las Vegas Hotel and Casino, mugging for pictures at the Arc de Triomphe before heading up to the viewing deck of the Eiffel Tower. Griff soaked up every drop of Sam’s delight at the view and toasted with her at the bar in the tower’s restaurant. Getting into the spirit, he took her for a culinary tour of Japan, introducing her to some of his favorite delicacies from his time in Okinawa. She was a little wobbly after the saki, so he got another cab to take them to the Venetian. They’d finish the tour off with Italy and a gondola ride before he’d take her back to the hotel to spend the rest of the night worshiping her body in every way he could imagine.
He’d been imagining a lot.
The boat rocked a bit as they stepped into it.
“Mind your step,” the gondolier warned.
Sam collapsed into her seat with a whoosh. “Oh my God, look at that ceiling! Can you believe that’s a ceiling and not the sky? It’s beautiful.”
Griff pulled her against him. “You’re beautiful.”
Her smile hit him harder than the alcohol. Seeing her light up over this whole experience was so damned gratifying. She’d always given so much to him. More than he felt like he deserved. Tonight felt as if he was giving something back to her.
She snuggled into him as they navigated away from the docks. Neither of them was paying much attention to the spiel from the gondolier. When they didn’t respond, he began to sing, his operatic voice echoing off the high ceiling above the canal. It wasn’t Griff’s kind of music, but he had to admit, the whole thing added a layer of romance.
Sam sighed in contentment. “I feel like we should commemorate this trip somehow.”
“Like with t-shirts or something?”
“It feels way more important than t-shirts. T-shirts don’t last. I want to remember this weekend forever.”
He wanted the weekend to be the start of forever. Would she want to hang on to what they’d found as much as he did? She’d never been impulsive like him. But the old Sam wouldn’t have asked him to be her plus one in the first place. That had to count for something.
She straightened abruptly, eyes going wide. “I have a crazy idea.”
He met her gaze, seeing desire and affection and everything he hadn’t known was missing in his life. “Me too.”
“It’s a really big deal.”
Heart pounding, he laced his fingers with hers. “Yeah.”
“Are we really thinking the same thing?”
“I think we are.”
“Okay, we spit it out on three.”
Griff nodded. “One.”
“Two.”
“Three. We should get married.” The words simply spilled out at the same moment she said, “We should get tattoos!”
Her jaw dropped. “Wait, what did you say?”
Shit. He was reading this whole situation wrong. They weren’t on the same page after all. “Nothing.”
Her hand curled around his arm. “You just said we should get married.”
Griff studied her face, desperately trying to figure out whether he should pretend to be drunker than he was. He forced a cocky smile. “I mean, you did want something big. I can’t think of much bigger than that. But we could do tattoos instead. Do you have any?” He hadn’t seen any when she’d been in that teeny bikini, but that didn’t rule them out.
She stared at him for a long moment before seeming to dismiss his crazy idea. “No, but I always wanted one. What do you think?”
A permanent mark to signify the permanent impact she’d had on his life? If he didn’t get her forever, that would be something. “I’m in. Let’s do it.”
“If you’re looking for a fantastic tattoo artist, go to Desert Ink. Tell them Marco from the Venetian sent you.”
Sam shot the gondolier a sweet smile as they reached the dock again. “Thank you for a wonderful ride and for the rec.”
“Sure thing.” As Griff handed Sam out of the gondola, the gondolier leaned in and added, “And if you do opt for the wedding, there’s a great twenty-four hour place right next door.”
Griff held in his wince. “Thanks, man.”
They stopped for dessert first. By the time they’d polished off a plateful of Italian wedding cookies, the buzz from their earlier drinks had worn off. Sam didn’t bring up his blurted proposal, and Griff couldn’t decide whether he was relieved or not. Maybe she wasn’t feeling the same thing he was. Maybe this was just a weekend for her. She hadn’t asked for more than that, so he really didn’t have a right to be disappointed if it ended there. He’d take what she’d give him and be grateful. But he’d felt like they were on the precipice of something bigger.
Because it was within walking distance, they went to the tattoo shop on foot. As they stood in the glow of the neon sign, Griff tugged her into his arms again. “You still want to do this?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you think I’m too much of a good girl for a tattoo?”
“No. I just want to make sure you’re sober enough to make the decision to put something permanently on your body and not regret it tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to regret anything tomorrow. C’mon. Let’s do this.”
She dragged him into the shop. A girl with purple braids, a nose ring, and multiple ear piercings sat behind the counter. “Can I help you?” Taking a good look at Sam, she did a double-take. “Well, hi again.”
“Dahlia! Hi!”
Purple Braids glanced from her to Griff and back again. “I see you found your plus one.”
Sam beamed. “I certainly did. Griff and I went to high school together. We ran into each other at baggage claim and reconnected.”
Dahlia nodded sagely. “So not a stranger after all. Looks like that worked out.”
“You have no idea.”
Griff arched a brow. “Um… what’s happening?”
“Dahlia was my seatmate on the way to Vegas. She was there for the dumping by text. It was her idea that I find another plus one for the wedding.”
Griff laid a hand over his heart. “Then let me offer my profound gratitude.”
Dahlia grinned. “I love it when a plan comes together. What can I do for you two?”
“We’re here to get tattoos. Marco from the Venetian sent us.”
“I can help you with that. Do you know what you want?”
Griff looked at Sam. “I have a suggestion.”
“Lay it on me.”
“We want to commemorate the trip, right?”
She nodded.
“What about that thing you said at dinner the other night? The Judy Garland quote.”
Her eyes went shiny. “Griff.”
“I mean, speaking for myself, it fits the bill. But we can keep looking. I know that might be a lot.” And why the hell was he pushing this? She’d already neatly avoided the subject of his bumbled proposal. Maybe this didn’t all mean as much to her as it did to him.
But she reached up to cup his cheek. “It’s perfect.”
They discussed fonts and placement, and then Dahlia went to work. Because he’d done it before, Griff went first. It felt right, inking these words into his skin over the heart she’d slid into. A link. A piece of truth.
“Looks good.” Dahlia smoothed a Saniderm bandage over the fresh tattoo. “Let’s get to part two. Sam?”
Griff slid off the table shrugged into his shirt. “You’re up, gorgeous.” He didn’t miss the appreciative gaze Sam raked over him. At the very least, she still wanted him.
“Where are we putting this thing?” Dahlia asked.
“Not sure. It’s my first one. What do you suggest?”
“Forearms are good locations for quotes. Above or below the collar bone. Shoulders. Down the torso. Over the ribs.”
“Not the forearm. And anywhere near the collar bone seems like it’d be painful. What do you think, Griff?”
Letting his gaze track over her, he imagined the words on her skin, a companion to his. “I think the shoulder. Here. It’s less sensitive.” Reaching out, he trailed a finger along her skin, just above the back of her dress, where he wanted to trace with his lips.
She shivered at the touch. “I don’t know about less sensitive, but I like it.”
Ignoring the innuendo, Dahlia nodded. “Shoulder it is. On your stomach.”
Sam got into position, and Dahlia edged the zipper down so she could work unencumbered. Griff tried hard not to think about lowering that zipper later and how that champagne dress would look on the floor.
“Will it hurt much?”
“A bit like a sunburn. If it gets to be too much, just let me know and we can pause for a bit.” Dahlia cleaned the area with alcohol, then went to retrieve the transfer in the font Sam had chosen.
“Griff?”
He circled around in front of her. “Yeah, Professor?”
“Hold my hand?”
Without hesitation, he snagged a spare stool and rolled it over so he could lace his fingers with hers. “Nervous?”
“A little.”
“You absolutely sure? It’s your last chance to back out.”
Her eyes seemed suddenly very serious. “I don’t want to back out.”
Were they still talking about tattoos? Or was she thinking about the wedding-white elephant they weren’t discussing?
Dahlia returned with the transfer from the printer. “Ready to rock and roll?”
Sam kept her gaze on his. “I’m ready.”
As tattoos went, hers didn’t take too long. She winced several times but otherwise didn’t flinch. Griff squeezed her hand when pain flickered over her face so she’d focused on the pressure instead of the sting on her shoulder. When Dahlia lifted the tattoo gun at last, Sam exhaled a long, slow breath.
“All done, champ.” Griff grinned at her. “Want me to take a pic so you can see? It’s probably a little easier than twisting around to see in a mirror just now.”
“Yeah.”
Dahlia leaned back so he could get the shot, then applied the bandage to the fresh ink and zipped up the dress. “You’re all set.”
Sam sat up and swayed. “I’m a little woozy.”
“That’ll pass. It’s the adrenaline dump. Here, check it out.” Griff leaned against the tattoo table to show her the picture.
“Oh, it’s beautiful.” Her finger traced the image on the phone, a smile curving her lips. “I love it.”
“You did good for a first-timer,” Dahlia informed her. “Feel free to sit for a bit while I get ready to ring you up.”
Sam leaned against him, and mindful of her new tattoo, Griff put an arm around her.
“So where to next?” he asked.
“That thing you said earlier on the gondola—”
Oh shit.
“Was it because you felt like that was a condition of taking me to bed? Because of the good girl thing?”
“What? No. I only need your clear consent for that.”
She angled her head to look up at him. “Then why?”
He could explain it away, tell her he hadn’t been serious. But that somehow felt like a betrayal. So he swallowed and admitted the truth. “Because I want to. Because I meant what I said earlier, and I don’t want to just try for the weekend. I know it’s crazy and impulsive, and you’re neither of those things. Probably it’s a good for one of us to keep our head about all this.”
“Yes.”
His heart sank, but he kept his smile glued in place. “It’s fine. No hard feelings. It was just—”
She turned into him, her hands skimming up his chest. “No. I’m saying yes. To you.”
He pinned her hand over his heart, feeling the heat of her touch where it pounded. “Really? Seriously? Are you sure?”
Her smile bloomed like a sunrise. “Let’s do it.”
They hit up the chapel next door first, putting down a deposit for the staff to get started setting up the ceremony, while they went across town to apply for a marriage license. Giddiness fizzed in Sam’s blood like champagne. If this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up.
The boy she’d crushed on for years had grown into a man she could respect, one she loved. Perhaps she’d always loved Griff, but she’d never imagined he’d love her back. Never imagined he’d want to spend more than the night, the weekend with her. And he wanted a lifetime. He’d inked those feelings into his skin, as she had her own. Then they inked their names on the paperwork, and the whole thing began to feel real.
On the cab ride back to the chapel, she waited for the panic, the doubt, to creep in on little cat feet. But nothing about marrying him felt crazy. It simply felt like the right next step. Saint Samantha was accepting this miracle and taking the leap, knowing her man would catch her. Wouldn’t that shock her friends to hell and back?
“The paperwork is all in order. Excellent. You just need to select the rings. We have a lovely selection just over here.”
They trailed the slim, classy blonde with Dolly Parton hair over to a jewelry case and peered inside.
Catching Griff’s frown, Sam leaned into him. “What is it?”
“I should’ve gotten you a ring.”
“We’re about to give each other rings. I don’t need something fancy. It’s just the symbolism of the thing.” She leaned over, pointed to a pair of simple gold bands. “What about those?”
“They’re pretty plain.”
“Classic,” she corrected.
“Okay.”
The blonde clasped her hands. “Wonderful. Let’s just get your sizes.”
As soon as that was decided, Sheryl directed them to what she referred to as “The Little Chapel.” The tiny room had only four rows of pews that could seat maybe two or three people each. The walls were swagged in tulle and ribbon, with twinkle lights wrapping up faux columns and a profusion of flowers in large urns at the front by the altar.
A man in a sober gray suit, with a beatific smile and a Bible in his hand, met them at the door. “Before you take your places, would you prefer traditional vows or do you have your own?”
“I have something in mind.” Griff raised a brow. “You okay with nontraditional?”
Sam’s lips twitched. “Well, I’m here, so… Yeah, nontraditional is fine.” She had a riot of words from poets and playwrights and all the literature she loved spiraling through her mind. The right thing would rise to the surface.
“Okay. Griffin, would you take your place at the front, please?” Sheryl gestured with one manicured hand.
He nodded, pausing for a quick kiss across Sam’s knuckles that set off sparklers in her blood. “See you up there.”
She took her own place at the back of the chapel, accepting the bouquet Sheryl offered. Music began to play, and only then did she feel the pinch around her heart. She’d always imagined having her family around for her wedding. Having Jonah to walk her down the aisle. But she could see Griff waiting for her. Solid, steady, and impossibly hers. She didn’t want to wait for another time and place. She wanted this now.
Floating down the short aisle, she barely heard the music. As he took her hands and smiled, she thought her thundering heart would simply burst with the joy of it. The officiant began to speak. Questions were asked and answered. And then she was asked for her vows.
“There are others who’ve put this better than I could. I hope you don’t mind if I reach for their words right now.”
Griff squeezed her hands. “I plan the same.”
Gaze locked on his face, she spoke the lines that had long ago etched on her heart from Captain Corelli’s Mandolin. “‘Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of eternal passion. That is just being ‘in love’ which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Those that truly love, have roots that grow towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms have fallen from their branches, they find that they are one tree and not two.’
“I pledge to twine my roots, my fate, with yours from this day forward.”
The hands she held trembled, and emotion swam into those beautiful blue eyes. His throat worked for a long moment before he began to speak.
“‘I love you,
Not only for what you are,
But for what I am
When I am with you.
I love you,
Not only for what
You have made of yourself,
But for what
You are making of me.
I love you
For the part of me
That you bring out;
I love you
For putting your hand
Into my heaped-up heart
And passing over
All the foolish, weak things
That you can't help
Dimly seeing there,
And for drawing out
Into the light
All the beautiful belongings
That no one else had looked
Quite far enough to find.
I love you
Because you have done
More than any creed
Could have done
To make me good,
And more than any fate
To make me happy.’”
He swallowed again. “I pledge to do all that I can to deserve you, though it may take a lifetime.”
Sam recognized the poem but was too overcome to remember the author. He loved her. He loved her. It didn’t matter that it was a quote rather than his own words. His recitation had been full of feeling, his voice unwavering with the promise, and she had to fight against the tears of joy.
“Lovely,” the officiant murmured. “And now the exchange of rings.”
Sam kept her gaze on Griff’s as they repeated the words, slid those circles of gold onto each other’s fingers. She soaked up the sound of his contented sigh, the warmth of his hands around hers, committing the moment to memory.
And then it was done.
“By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Griff reeled her in, and she could taste his smile as he laid his lips over hers in their first, official, married kiss.
Twining her arms around his shoulders, she couldn’t wait for the rest.
Marrying a Marine absolutely had its perks. Sam’s new husband—husband, holy shit!—carried her down the hall and over the threshold to their room as if she weighed no more than a kitten. Her romantic heart swooned and began to pound as he booted the door shut with his foot. At long last they’d finally get to give in to all this heat that had been building between them.
Beyond tired of waiting, she rained kissed over his face, down his throat. “I can’t wait to get naked with you. I want to feel your hands everywhere.”
Those hands tightened around her as he groaned. “We’ll get there. But we’re gonna take our time about it.”
Sam pulled back, fully prepared to campaign for why they should shoot for fast first and slow later. Then she caught sight of the room. Rose petals had been scattered over the bed and floor. Electric candles glimmered on almost every horizontal surface. Champagne chilled in a silver bucket beside a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries. Her heart melted. “Oh! When did… how did you do this?”
“I had the chapel call the hotel to set it up. I wanted tonight to be special for you.”
She framed his face, loving the way his eyes darkened. “Everything about this weekend has been special.”
Wanting to thank him and lacking the words, she laid her lips over his again, hoping he could taste the depth of her feeling. He shifted, gently lowering her body and drawing her in to take the kiss deeper. Her muscles loosened, heat pooling low in her belly as she willingly sank into the drugging haze of arousal. She expected him to back her toward the bed, to start undressing her.
Instead, he stopped, skimming his fingers through her hair. “I want to toast.”
“Okay.” Her voice was breathless with wanting. But she could wait. They had time. A lifetime.
Griff stepped away, twisting open the champagne. They both grinned at the celebratory pop of the cork. He tipped the fizzy golden liquid into waiting flutes and passed her one before lifting his own.
“To your idiot ex.”
Sam grimaced. “I don’t really want to think about him in this moment.”
“Bear with me. Without him we might never have reconnected, never have found this.”
She angled her head in concession. “Okay, fair point. To Eric the Idiot for exiting my life at the best possible moment.”
They clinked glasses and drank. The bubbles burst against her tongue. More fizzed in her blood at the look in Griff’s eyes as he continued.
“To us and this big, brand new adventure.”
Again they toasted, the ring of tapping glasses another entry to their soundtrack of the night.
His lips curved. “To you, for being you. Brilliant and beautiful and exactly what I need.”
It was a joy and a blessing to be appreciated for who and what she was, exactly as she was. Wanting him to feel the same, Sam raised her glass again. “To risk and incalculable reward. I always knew you’d turn out to be an amazing man. I just never expected you to be mine.”
He hesitated a beat before draining the rest of his glass. She knew he’d never been easy with praise. She’d have to work on that. But right now, she wanted her husband, and it was time to get this show on the road.
Finishing her champagne, she snagged his glass and set them both aside before taking matters into her own hands. It took mere seconds to drag down her zipper. With a few delicate shrugs, she let the dress fall to the floor in a pool of fabric, leaving her standing in nothing but a thong. Whatever nerves she might’ve had about him seeing her all but naked were quickly extinguished by the instant flare of hunger in his eyes.
Swallowing, she lifted her chin with what she hoped was a come-hither stare. “Now, come and claim your wife.”
With a delicious growl, he boosted her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. The bulge of his erection pressed against her center as he took her mouth in a hungry kiss that seemed to go from zero to sixty in less than a second. They tumbled onto the bed and the weight of him was glorious. Her hands shoved at his coat, and he reared back, tossing it to the side and dragging his shirt over his head in one smooth move that left his chest bare.
The companion tattoo to hers stood out stark against his chest. But Sam had only a moment to take it in before he came back to her, taking his lips on a sprinting journey down her throat and chest to lay claim to her breasts. As his tongue curled around one nipple, she bowed up, sensation shooting through her body like lightning.
“Oh God, please.” She didn’t know exactly what she was begging for. More? Less?
But he knew better than she. His hand skated down her torso, over her belly to slip between her legs, cupping the heat there with his big, broad palm.
She arched into the touch. “Griff! More. Please.”
“So polite,” he rumbled.
The self-satisfied smirk should maybe be annoying but she was too close to the edge to complain. Switching to her other breast, he sucked her nipple, caressing it with his tongue as he rubbed the heel of his hand against her mound. She lifted her hips against him, seeking more pressure, fisting her hand in his hair.
“Oh God, I’m so… I’m going to…”
“Come for me, sweet girl.” As he gave the order, he nudged aside the soaked fabric of her underwear and drew his finger through her folds.
She shattered, her whole body convulsing.
He kissed her again, and she could taste his smile as he eased her back down. When she went limp, he pulled back, kissing his way down her body, taking the panties as he went.
A moment, a heartbeat, a year later he came back, nudging her thighs apart and pressing a kiss to her knee before settling between them. Sam trembled. “What are you…”
But his intent was obvious as he stared up at her with hooded eyes.
“I don’t… I can’t possibly.”
Griff stroked her leg. “Oh, you most definitely can.”
Swallowing hard, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Um. No one’s ever done… that.”
He made some sound low in his throat, primitive, primal. Possessive. “I love that I’ll be your first. And your last.”
Before she had a moment to wrap her mind around that, his mouth was on her and she lost whatever last grasp of words she’d had left. She whimpered and writhed, gasping his name as he licked and sucked and drove her mad. It was too much and not enough. Pressure built and built but she couldn’t quite get there again. Then he slid one thick finger into her and curled.
She shot over the edge into a total freefall, blind and deaf and utterly out of control. But Griff was there. Holding her. Kissing her. Grounding her.
He stroked the hair back from her face. “Samantha.”
She shuddered at the sound of her name in this devastatingly intimate voice. Or maybe that was more aftershocks. “Griffin.” His name came out barely above a whisper.
“There’s something we need to discuss.”
Discuss? Was he kidding? That would require those things… What were they called? Words? She must’ve made some incredulous sound because he huffed a laugh, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
“Is this your first time? Not just that, but the rest of this.”
Sam blinked at him for a moment, absorbing his serious expression before she finally realized what he was asking. “No.” There’d only been two before and neither of them had managed what he had with only his mouth and hands.
“Okay. I think you’re ready.” Suddenly the room was shifting as he rolled them so she straddled his hips. “You should have control here.”
Somewhere along the way, he’d stripped out of the rest of his clothes and donned a condom. Sam glanced down to take in the erection pressed between them. “Wow. You’re… wow.”
“Might be a bit tight. Take your time.”
Curling her hand around him, she gave an experimental stroke, loving the way he jumped in her palm.
“Professor, if you don’t want this over before it starts, you’ll want to stop that. You can play later.”
Chuckling, she bent to kiss him again, nipping at his bottom lip. “You can be sure that I will.” She wanted to explore him, learn all of his intimate secrets as he was learning hers.
“Promises promises.”
Sobering, she rose up and positioned him at her entrance. “I’ve wanted you for a very, very long time.”
“Likewise.”
Linking her hands with his, Sam held his gaze as she began the long, slow slide down. Even with all his ministrations, he was big, and they were a snug fit. Her thighs worked as she rose and fell, taking him incrementally deeper. Griff held himself still, and she could feel the shudder in his muscles from the effort to let her set the pace.
He brought their joined hands to his lips. “Breathe, baby.”
Her breath sighed out, only to catch again as he filled her completely.
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, her throat going as tight as her body around him. “I just… This is… You’re…” Everything.
But she didn’t know how to say it. Even now, with absolutely no barriers left between them, she couldn’t bring herself to admit the truth. That she loved him. That she’d loved him for years.
Her gaze zeroed in on the twin gold bands on their twined fingers. Giving up on speech, she bent forward, pressing her own lips to those rings. Their new beginning.
The position shifted him inside her, and he groaned, thrusting his hips. Pleasure began to coil again. Pressing his hands back, she began to ride him in earnest, drinking in his every sound of strain and pleasure, loving that she was doing this to him. Nothing had ever felt as good as having this man buried inside her, knowing he was hers and hers alone.
“Not gonna last much longer,” he gasped.
“Then come.”
“Not without you.” He reached between them, finding her clit and sending her back into freefall with his name on her lips.