Be My Wife: A BWWM Romance (Make It Marriage Book 6) Page 9

  “And,” she adds, “my parents want to talk to you.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yup. Well, right now.”

  “Right now?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “Right this minute?”

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  I groan. “You broke the scale.”

  “I told you it was at twenty-three.” She sighs. “I’m not happy about this either, but I couldn’t shake them. You know my family. Well, you’re about to know my family.”

  Full panic erupts in my brain. Elizabeth’s description of her very close, very involved Caribbean clan was intimidating. I thought I’d have at least a couple weeks to prepare myself for the onslaught at Novah’s wedding.

  “Brogan?” She sounds frantic when I don’t respond. “You didn’t faint, did you?”

  “No.” I rub my beard. “Wait, how do you know where I live?”

  “You mean where we live?”

  I frown at the wall. “You’re hilarious.”

  “Sorry. Too soon?”

  “I’m glad you find this funny.”

  “I’m laughing instead of crying.” She blows out a breath. “To be honest, I’m relieved to have someone freak out with me. Makes me feel less alone.”

  “Hm.”

  “Is this what marriage is about?” she murmurs.

  It’s not really a question, but even if she was looking to me for an answer, I wouldn’t be able to tell her. In my experience, marriage has nothing to do with mutual support, trust, or love.

  “Levy gave me a key card for the penthouse before I left work this morning,” Elizabeth says.

  Should have guessed.

  Levy’s the gift that keeps on giving.

  “Is that okay?”

  “It’s a moot point. You’re already bringing them, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, but if you’re really against it, I can make something up.”

  I want to choose that option, but it’s the easy route. Plus it’s not fair to Elizabeth. I promised her we’d convince her family of our relationship. Unfortunately, moving in together now falls under that umbrella.

  “Do you need time to clean anything? I can stall for another fifteen minutes by pretending I’ve lost my way.”

  I glance around the penthouse.

  It’s stylish. Modern. Spacious. Gran was never the Victorian, antique furniture, rocking-chair-on-the-porch type. Everything she owns is cutting edge. Sharp and cold. Just like her.

  I shrug. “It’s ready for company.”

  “I’m really sorry, Brogan.”

  “It’s fine.” I shake my head. “You know how to get in right?”

  “Not really.”

  “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  We hang up.

  I change into a pair of jeans, brush some mousse through my hair and grab my coat before stepping into the private elevator. The chrome wall reveals a man with auburn hair, panicked blue eyes and a trembling mouth.

  Damn.

  My hands are sweaty.

  I wipe them against my pants just as the elevator lands in the lobby.

  A crowd is stumbling inside. Their laughter and bright smiles fill the strict, formal lobby with high-energy, grabbing the attention of the two burly security guards waiting near the front desk.

  The men approach Elizabeth’s family.

  “Hold it right there,” they bark.

  I jog ahead, waving my arms. “Stop! Stop! They’re family!”

  The guards shoot confused glances between me—the pale-skinned ginger and the family of warm, glowing African Americans gathering loudly in the center of the lobby with moving boxes and cans of beer.

  “Brogan!” Elizabeth steps out of the crowd. Her hair is pulled back into a frizzy ponytail. She’s wearing a simple T-shirt and shorts that show off her long, toned legs.

  “Hey.” I wrap my arms around her waist and dip down to kiss her cheek. While I have my lips close to her ear, I whisper, “This is all of them?”

  “Half.” She glances up. “Will they fit in the penthouse?”

  Of course. But that’s not the problem here. If this is only half of her family, I can’t imagine what Christmas is like when they’re all together.

  I pull away from Elizabeth and face the crowd. Her family stares at me like I’m an alien fresh off the spaceship.

  “Is that him?”

  “What’s wrong with his hands?”

  “Did you know he was…?”

  “What?”

  “This white.”

  “He’s white-white. I thought you said he was regular white?”

  “So?”

  “Girl, we’re not living in the fifties. What’s wrong with that?

  “I’m just saying.”

  Elizabeth ignores the whispers and takes my hand. “Guys, I’d like to introduce you to my husband. Brogan, this is my family.”

  I nod. “Welcome. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

  The guards approach us. “Mr. Harrington, Mrs. Harrington. Should we help you take those upstairs?”

  “We’ve got it,” Elizabeth says. “Thanks.”

  They return to their stations.

  I gesture to the elevator. “Right this way.”

  Instead of following me there, Elizabeth’s people form a circle around me.

  A thick woman with pencil-thin eyebrows and plump lips looks me up and down. “I’m Aunt Becca. Do you live in this building, young man?”

  “The top floor.”

  Impressed murmurs pulse all around.

  “By chance,” another woman edges forward, “do you own this building?”

  I meet Elizabeth’s eyes.

  She bites down on her bottom lip don’t tell them if you don’t want to.

  “Sharon, stop being so inquisitive.” A new woman marches to the front of the crowd. She’s got big, brown eyes, a flared nose and thick cheeks. Lifting her chin, she declares, “I’m Elizabeth’s mother.”

  My eyes widen.

  I glance at Elizabeth.

  Then back at her mother.

  “You’re thinking she doesn’t look like me, aren’t you?” Mrs. Garcia smiles woodenly. “But she’s my daughter. I have the DNA test to prove it.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that, ma’am.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, Brogan.” Her stare softens. “I like that.”

  Elizabeth’s sigh of relief is loud enough to draw a chuckle from her aunts, uncles and cousins.

  “This is my husband.” Mrs. Garcia gestures to the man joining her side.

  “Sir.” I offer my hand.

  He doesn’t take it. His dark eyes cut into me. “There a reason you didn’t stop by the house and get our blessing before you whisked our little girl away, Brogan?”

  “Daddy…” Elizabeth begs.

  “No, it’s fine.” I squeeze her shoulder. “They have every right to be upset.”

  Mrs. Garcia arches an eyebrow.

  “Your daughter is a hero. She saved a life when she agreed to marry me.”

  Elizabeth turns, surprise tightening her expression.

  “Our urgency to be together made us lose our heads. I should have come to you first. For that, I apologize.”

  Mr. Garcia studies me. Finally, a big smile stretches across his face. “I accept your apology.” He grabs my hand and gives it a hard squeeze. “To make up for this misstep, I expect you to take good care of my daughter. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Daddy…” Elizabeth rolls her eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Marriage is about taking care of each other.” Her father gives her a scolding look. Then he slants an apologetic one my way. “Sorry. She’s a little too stubborn. We spoiled her, you know.”

  “Hey!”

  “Why don’t we go upstairs?” I offer, trying to hide my smirk.

  “Great idea.” Elizabeth scurries beside me with a this is working out better than I thought grin on her face.

  I can’
t help but smile back.

  She’s cute when she’s excited.

  Not that I’m noticing.

  We head upstairs.

  Gasps echo off the walls as the Garcia clan step inside the suite. It’s an impressive sight, I guess. Open layout plan. Chrome fixtures. Sleek furniture. State-of-the-art appliances.

  Their hushed voices split into fragments as they explore.

  “Is that a pool?”

  “I found a whole gym in here.”

  “Mom, it looks like a movie theatre.”

  “How many rooms can you fit in the top of a building?”

  The answer?

  Tons.

  Gran had a gym, Jacuzzi, library and theatre room all to herself.

  Way too much space for one person.

  Elizabeth sticks close to my side as her family explores. “Your place is really nice.”

  I shrug. It’s not like I decorated it myself.

  She glances around to make sure no one’s listening and says, “Thank you so much for this.”

  I turn to her.

  Find her closer than she’s been since Novah’s cake tasting.

  Her brown eyes glitter with happiness.

  I can tell that, for all her complaints about her family, she enjoys having them around.

  It’s right there in her excited eyes.

  In her arched eyebrows.

  In… those lips.

  My eyes catch on her mouth.

  And stay there.

  Memories of kissing her fill my head.

  The softness of her beneath me.

  The texture of her lip gloss.

  The feel of her breath hitting my cheek.

  The sound of her whisper-quiet moans.

  Temptation whispers in my ear.

  Taste her again.

  My hand creeps around her waist.

  Elizabeth gasps as I pull her flush against me.

  Not thinking about the reasons, I give into the crazy, intense desire to kiss my wife.

  Sixteen

  Elizabeth

  I watch Brogan’s eyes darken seconds before his fingers curve into my waist.

  His hand is steady.

  His stare is piercing.

  His warmth…

  Shoot.

  No, that’s my warmth.

  I’m burning up already. I can feel the heat wave surging through me, starting in my chest and moving down, down, down.

  His lips cover mine.

  Something prickly rasps against my chin.

  His red beard.

  Damn.

  I love that feeling.

  I love how rough his face is against mine.

  My eyes flutter closed.

  My hands lift into the air, searching for his shoulder and his cheek.

  Our lips press together.

  Then Brogan’s starts to move.

  Pleasure rocks through me.

  More than I’ve ever felt with any man before.

  My body lights up.

  Demanding.

  Hungry.

  More.

  I rise on my tiptoes.

  Slide my arms over his shoulders like a snake wrapping around its prey.

  I sip thirstily of his lips.

  Feel my head tip back as he presses forward.

  Feel my rapid pulse drown out all thoughts.

  It’s intense.

  Way too intense.

  I start to pull back.

  He chases me down, his tongue sliding against my bottom lip.

  Excitement skitters up my skin.

  Dances over my spine.

  Curls around my thighs.

  Drowns out everyone in the room.

  A groan slips out of me.

  He responds by clutching me tighter.

  Firmer.

  Deeper.

  I need it.

  This.

  Him.

  All of him.

  “Ehem.”

  Brogan and I jump back.

  The world blinks.

  Darkens.

  Comes back into focus.

  I’m in Brogan’s living room.

  Surrounded by my family.

  My mom and dad.

  I lift a hand to cover my mouth, shocked and embarrassed at my own response.

  My chest rises and falls.

  A deep exhale sweeps through me.

  What the hell was that?

  We were just standing there and then Brogan snuck in a kiss out of nowhere.

  This is his fault.

  All of these feelings…

  There’s no way I would have melted like that if he’d warned me first.

  “I get that it’s your honeymoon and all,” Aunt Becca says, lightly touching her hair, “but there are kids present.” She nods to Uncle Kevin who is covering the eyes of one of my younger cousins. “Maybe continue that in the bedroom when we’re all gone?”

  I clear my throat.

  Step away from Brogan.

  Try to collect myself when it feels like every inch of my skin is sizzling at the thought of continuing anything in his bedroom.

  He pulls his lips in. Nods.

  Everyone is staring at us.

  I wish I could care about that.

  I wish my body would quit throbbing.

  And my heart would quit thundering.

  And my lips would quit tingling.

  Annoyed, I shoot Brogan a what the hell stare.

  He glances away, his jaw muscles clenching hard.

  “Well then…” Aunt Becca spins, swipes two beers from the kitchen counter and hands it to us.

  The can is cold against my palm. A welcome respite from the heat. I wrap my fingers firmly around it, pulling it up to cool my flaming cheeks.

  “Why don’t we have a toast?”

  “Do you think this is their wedding, Becca?” Aunt Sharon teases.

  “I think,” Aunt Becca pins her with an amused look, “that today is a happy day. Any opportunity to celebrate with family is a gift.”

  Aunt Sharon smirks.

  “And Brogan?”

  He looks up quickly as if surprised to hear his name.

  Aunt Becca raises her beer can. “Welcome to the family.”

  “Welcome!”

  “Welcome!”

  Brogan’s cheeks turn pink. “Uh, thanks.”

  “Why don’t you tell us the story of how you got together?” Aunt Sharon suggests. “I’d love to hear it.”

  Murmurs of agreement spread like wildfire.

  I shake my head. “No, you guys. It’s really basic. You wouldn’t like it.”

  “Aw, come on.” Mama pins me with a get real look.

  “You managed to keep the relationship and the marriage a secret from all of us.” Aunt Becca nudges my arm with her elbow. “I’m sure there’s a whole lot you could share.”

  I keep my mouth shut.

  “Tell us!” Aunt Becca pumps her fists. “Tell us. Tell us.”

  Soon everyone is yelling it out.

  “Tell us! Tell us!”

  I meet Brogan’s eyes.

  He lifts one shoulder it’s your show.

  I scowl you’re so helpful.

  He smirks in response.

  The jerk.

  “Uh…” I clear my throat. “Well, Brogan and I first met in a coffee shop.”

  “When?”

  “A while ago,” I say, keeping the timetable vague. “We… had a great conversation about love. Then he left. And I thought I’d never see him again.”

  “But you did,” Aunt Sharon says eagerly.

  I shuffle my feet. “We met again on a blind date.”

  “A what?”

  I glance at Mama. “I hired professional matchmakers to set me up.”

  Everyone gasps.

  Brogan looks unsettled.

  I make a face at him what?

  He arches a bushy eyebrow isn’t that a little too close to the truth?

  I shake my head the best lies are wrapped up in truth.


  He seems to think about it and then nods.

  “Elizabeth,” Mama looks slightly offended, “why would you get help from an outside source?”

  “I just… I wanted to see if maybe the problem was me.”

  “Oh, honey.” Aunt Sharon clutches her pearls.

  “But,” I straighten my shoulders and force a bright smile, “when I got to the restaurant, guess who walked in?”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “No way! Brogan?”

  “Yup. He strode up to my table and the rest, as we say, is history.”

  Applause breaks out.

  “That’s so romantic.” Aunt Becca sniffs.

  “Are you crying?”

  “These kids have a beautiful love story and you know it, Tina!”

  Brogan drops a hand on my back. I stiffen at first but relax when he doesn’t kiss me again.

  “You took a risk,” he whispers in my ear.

  “It’ll be fine.” I turn fully to him. “Speaking of the matchmakers, they’ve been calling me lately.”

  “I got the calls too,” he admits.

  “We should go see them. Tell them…”

  “That we got married?”

  I cringe. “Should we just ghost them?”

  “I’m fine with letting Kayla know.” His lips tilt up. “They’ll be surprised.”

  “For sure.”

  “Ehem.” Aunt Becca advances on us again. “I have another question.”

  “What now, Becca?” Aunt Sharon groans.

  “It’s about…” Aunt Becca’s eyes dip to Brogan’s hands.

  Silence falls.

  I glance at Brogan. Guardedness creeps into his eyes again. I see the shift like a storm chaser catching the signs of a hurricane.

  It’s gradual but distinct.

  Blue eyes full of life become eyes of shadows, pain and secrets.

  My body stiffens in response.

  Something protective unfurls in me.

  I lift my beer. “Why don’t we have another toast?”

  “What? But—”

  “To family!”

  “To family!”

  As everyone drinks, I hook my arm over Aunt Becca’s shoulder. “Is there anything else in the cooler? I’m trying not to drink too much since I get bloated…” As I walk off, I glance at Brogan over my shoulder.

  He’s scowling.

  Our eyes connect.

  He frowns harder I had that.

  I tilt my head you’re welcome.

  His eyes narrow.

  I steer my nosey aunt into the kitchen and far away from Brogan.

  We spend most of the night apart as Brogan is pulled into conversation with the men and the women gather in the kitchen to chat about Novah’s wedding.