Mine To Protect: Bonus Content

She walked down the aisle in a beautiful, white dress.

Sullivan was sure she looked gorgeous, but the long, gauzy white veil obstructed her features. His heart pounded so fast, surely it would beat right out of his chest.

He was incredibly happy and excruciatingly nervous and the combination felt strange. The happiness he recognized. The sudden nervous tension though, was new.

His gaze swept the crowd and Sullivan realized he didn’t recognize anyone on the bride’s side. Not her brother or sister-in-law, or her nieces. The pews were simply full of people he didn’t know and that fact had his anxiety ratcheting higher. Automatically, he made eye contact with Hayes who was standing next to him.

Before the wedding, Hayes had asked if he was nervous. Sullivan had replied with an amused, unequivocal no.

Hayes had chuckled. “When she’s walking down that aisle at you,” he said easily, “you will be. Just look right into her eyes and you’ll be okay.”

At the time, Sullivan had thought the advice unnecessary, but now he was feeling nearly desperate to look into Emerson’s changeable, aquamarine eyes.

She walked to stand beside him and it should have been so right, but something felt wrong.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, in the sight of God and this company, to witness and celebrate—”

“Wait.” Alarm bells began to go off. “That’s not right.” They were in a church, for Christ’s sakes. His ex-CIA operative was an atheist. “Kitten, what happened to our civil ceremony?”

“What?” she replied in a soft, soft voice that even through the veil he could tell wavered uncertainly. “Bastion?”

Bastion?

She almost never used his name. Unless she was angry with him or he was making her come. What the fuck.

With near trembling hands, Sullivan lifted the pristine, white veil. He didn’t recognize her features, but her eyes weren’t that changeable blue and her hair wasn’t dark. Stomach churning, Sullivan automatically recoiled.

“Who the hell are you?”

His words were unintentionally loud and a gasp swept the crowd. The stranger in front of him looked traumatized, but it was hard to sympathize because he was feeling pretty traumatized himself.

He turned to his best friend. “Hayes, what the hell is going on?”

“Bastion, it’s your wedding.”

“Yeah, I know that, but where the hell is Emerson?”

Sullivan looked around and realized his linguist was not the only important woman in his life missing. “Where’s my daughter?”

“Bas, you—you don’t have a daughter.”

“Are you crazy? Of course, I do.” Panic was threatening to swallow him alive. He stepped away from the altar and his gaze landed on the front row. Immediately, he recognized Cassandra and Elias.

Standing next to Hayes, he saw his son, looking solemn and grown-up in his tux. Sullivan felt weak with relief. He rushed forward and hugged him.

“Oh God, Luke.”

“Dad, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, buddy, but I’m going to figure it out.” He leaned back to look at his son. “Luke, where’s your sister?”

“I ... Dad, are—are you okay?” Luke asked tentatively.

Annabelle raised a concerned hand. “Sullivan …is everything alright?”

“Annabelle, god, what is this?” he asked desperately. “Where’s Brennan?”

“What?” Annabelle paled. “Sullivan, you …you mean Emerson Brennan?”

“Is this some kind of joke?” He was practically yelling. “Yeah, Emerson Brennan. The woman I’m supposed to be marrying right now!”

“Oh God,” Cassandra whispered in horror. “Sullivan, you haven’t talked to Brennan in almost five years.”

His eyes dilated wildly. “Are you fuc—” At the last moment, he glanced down at his son who was looking at him with wide, confused eyes. “Luke, go with Uncle Hayes for a bit, please.”

“Sullivan, I think you need to—”

“Hayes, please,” he interrupted. “Just …just look after him for ten minutes, okay. I need to figure out what’s going on.”

“I’m not a little kid, Dad.”

For a moment, Sullivan thought Hayes would argue, but then he took Luke’s hand. “C’mon, buddy, let’s go find something to eat.”

Luke sighed in obvious discontent at being left out of the grown-up conversation, but he went with Hayes without arguing. Immediately, Sullivan whirled to face the small group of people who had congregated around him.

“If this is some kind of joke, it’s not funny!”

“Sullivan, weddings can be stressful, particularly when it’s your—”

“No.” He stopped Elias in his tracks with a deadly glare. “I want to see Emerson and my daughter and I wanna see them now.”

Cassandra and Annabelle looked on the verge of tears. Elias just looked like he had lost his mind.

“Oh, Bastion, I think you need to sit down.”

“Cass, this isn’t funny,” he said almost frantically. “Brennan …she—she’s supposed to be here. We’re supposed to be getting married. We—we have a daughter, she …” His breath hitched in panic. “She’s almost two. She looks just like Emerson …where are they?”

“Sullivan, no,” Annabelle said gently. “T-that’s wrong. You and Brennan, you’re not together. You never had a daughter.” Her dark eyes were sad, almost on the verge of tears. “Even I haven’t seen her in years. She’s not even in the country. God, I don’t even know if she’s alive.”

“No,” he said hoarsely, head shaking in denial. “No. That’s wrong.”

Cassandra placed a soothing hand on his arm. “It’s been years since you’ve even seen her. She left after the FBI got the guy trying to kill you, Sullivan. She never came back.”

Her voice sounded so sad, but so very final. For a moment, Sullivan wondered if he was losing his mind. Had he made up the last four years of his life?

“NO!” Violently, he shook off Cassandra’s hand. “This is fucking crazy! You’re lying!” he yelled.

Cass took an automatic step back and Elias took one forward. His arm went protectively around his wife.

“Sullivan, I think you need to calm down.”

“I will not calm down! WHERE THE HELL IS MY FAMILY?”

The words were still ringing in his head when Sullivan woke up, heartbeat pounding wildly.

His gaze landed on the empty right side of the bed. The clock on the nightstand said it was barely midnight, but he had turned in early for a reason.

Tomorrow was his wedding day.

He dragged a shaky hand through his hair. Eyed the clock again.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

He was shaking like a leaf caught in a storm. Sullivan dragged a hand through his hair. Took some calming, even breaths. Eyed the clock again.

Fuck it, he was calling her. Getting Emerson’s voicemail did nothing to calm him down. Maybe it was ridiculous, but he needed to hear her voice. That dream—Jesus, nightmare— had felt too fucking real.

This was all Annabelle’s fault, he though crankily. He should never have agreed to this ridiculous night apart before the wedding. Sullivan scrolled through his contacts, finding Annabelle’s number.

“Hello?”

“I wanna talk to Bren.”

“Sullivan?” Annabelle sounded sleepy. He'd definitely woken her up and couldn't find it in himself to care at the moment. “It’s late.”

“It’s barely midnight. She’s not picking up her cell.”

“Um … yeah, I uh, it ran out of batteries earlier. It’s probably charging.”

“I want to talk to her.”

A grumbling, male voice in the background that was surely Hayes wondering what the fuck was going on.

“C’mon, Sullivan, it’s one night.” On the other side of the line, Sullivan could practically see Annabelle rolling her eyes. “You can live without her for one—”

“Annabelle, put her on.” His tone brooked no argument. “Now.”

“Okay.” She knew dead serious when she heard it. “Give me a sec.”

It probably was just a few seconds, but they felt endless until he heard a slightly husky voice from the other side of the line.

“Sullivan?”

“Em,” he breathed, letting himself relax back against the pillows.

“Is everything alright?” Brennan asked. “Annabelle said you sounded agitated.”

“Everything’s fine. And I know I probably woke you. I’m sorry, baby,” he said softly. “I just …God, this sounds so stupid, but I had this dream and it … it felt so real.”

“Dream?”

“Nightmare, really,” he sighed. “I just … I wanted to hear your voice.”

“Why? Was I part of the nightmare?”

“No, it was a nightmare because you weren’t there at all.”

“I don’t understand.”

Sullivan could practically see the tiny line between her brows. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to smooth it away. “It was our wedding, but you weren’t there.”

“Are you concerned I won’t be there tomorrow?” she asked. “I promise you, I will be.”

Sullivan laughed a little. “I know. It’s not—it’s not that. I’m sorry, babe.” With a sigh, he realized just how silly it all was. “I guess I’m not used to sleeping without you.”

“Would you like us to come home?” she offered, clearly sensing his agitation. “Ciri is already asleep, but—”

“What? No, it’s late,” he said quickly. “Really, it’s fine. I’m sorry I woke you.”

He did feel bad, but talking to her had made his heart beat somewhat normally again and that sick feeling in his stomach was dissipating, so it was hard to be too regretful. He did want to talk to his daughter as well, but he’d already woken up his fiancée. He wasn’t going to wake up his kid too.

“Good night,” he said softly before a thought popped in his head. “Hey, quick question. You’re not wearing a veil tomorrow, right?”

“What? Of course not.” Her tone said the mere thought was preposterous. “I’m not a virgin, Sullivan.”

He laughed in pure relief. “See you tomorrow, kitten.”

He tried, but it was impossible to go back to sleep.

Sullivan was really fucking wishing right about now that he’d put up more of a fight when Brennan told him Annabelle’s idea for the night before the wedding.

Since Brennan had nixed a bridal shower, bachelorette party or any other type of standard, pre-wedding ritual, Annabelle had put her foot down on a girl’s night. Or rather, girl’s day, since she had shown up bright and early and absconded with his fiancée and his daughter.

With a restless groan, he flipped back the covers. It felt absolutely ridiculous that he couldn’t sleep one night without Emerson next to him. He’d done it before, Sullivan knew. It was just that at the moment, he couldn’t recall how.

Maybe he would go into the yard and toss a ball around with Thor. Even if it was after midnight. Their rambunctious puppy might be almost three now, but his boundless energy was on par with that of his almost two-year-old toddler.

Of course, Thor was asleep, dreaming doggy dreams in the plush bed Brennan insisted they keep in their bedroom. Sometimes, Sullivan teased her that she loved that dog more than him. The dog had been as mournful as him all night without Brennan and Ciri around.

Okay, fine. A shot of tequila it was. He was making his way to the kitchen when the front door opened.

Sullivan froze in place. “Bren?”

“I know you said—”

In two steps, he’d crossed the distance between them. She was in his arms, her mouth fused to his before she could even finish the thought. With a breathless laugh, Sullivan pulled back, pressed his forehead to hers.

“Aw, fuck. I know I said it was fine.” Sullivan leaned into her hand when she stroked it against his cheek. “But I was full of shit. I wanted to see you so badly.”

“I know, Sullivan.”

He ran a single fingertip over her nose. “I can’t believe one little dream freaked me out that much.”

“You know how I feel about psycho babble nonsense.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “But perhaps, you’re nervous about tomorrow.”

Hands curving over her waist, he lifted her. Brennan automatically wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to their bedroom.

“I don’t have cold feet, if that’s what you mean.” The mere thought was ridiculous. Sullivan had never been more sure of anything in his life. “But based on this stupid dream, I guess I’m nervous something’s gonna mess up our wedding tomorrow.”

“Like what?”

Sullivan shrugged, rubbing a hand over her back. “I don’t know.” With a sigh, he sat with her on the bed. “I mean, life has been pretty awesome for a long time now, but in just an instant it can punch you in the gut, you know. Life can suck. And in that dream, it sucked big time.”

“Tell me.”

“I thought it was our wedding, but it wasn’t,” he said softly. “I didn’t even recognize who was up there with me, but it wasn’t you. We—we weren’t together. Annabelle said she hadn’t talked to you in years. She didn’t even know if you were alive.” God, that part of the dream refused to dissipate. “We never had our little girl, kitten.” He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. “I swear to God, I woke up nauseous.”

“I’m sorry.” Brennan hugged him close. Pressed her lips tenderly to his, the way he did to soothe her whenever she had a nightmare. “If I had known, I would have brought her home too, but she was asleep and I didn’t—”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Sullivan interrupted gently. “I feel bad enough I woke you up.”

“Don’t.” She shifted in his lap, running soft kisses over one shoulder. “I had fun with Annabelle today. But I missed you.”

“I don’t care how traditional this whole night apart before the wedding thing is,” Sullivan decided with a small pout. “I don’t like it.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” she reminded him.

“We gotta learn to say no to Annabelle.”

Brennan laughed softly. “I think she thought you were upset about us spending the night over there and she felt a little bad.”

“Well, she did take my girls,” he murmured, head tilting to the side in invitation to her roaming lips. “But, you know, I get it. Doing girl stuff before the wedding. I’m glad you had that, kitten.”

“Well, in any case, she’s looking after two small children tomorrow morning so that we can sleep in.” Ciri and Annabelle’s son, Henry, were only a couple years apart.

Sullivan smiled foolishly. “You …um, you’re not going back tonight?” He chuckled. “Did you warn her?”

Their daughter was a little like a tornado on crack in the morning.

Brennan just gave a little smile and reached for the hem off her simple shift dress.

“Annabelle assures me that she’s perfectly capable of handling two kids.” Brennan’s eyes glimmered evilly. “I wasn’t going to argue with her.”

The dress slipped from her fingers and Sullivan groaned softly. His hands slid up her back to unsnap her bra and in a flurry of soft kisses and strokes, she was naked under him in their bed.

Sullivan kicked off his pajama bottoms and smiled as he settled himself over her. He left the soft glow of the nightstand lamp on and just smiled down at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.” With a hand, he smoothed her hair over the pillow. “Just looking at you and trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’re mine.”

Her lips twisted in sassy coyness. “You do know you’ve already talked me into marrying you, right?”

“What?” Sullivan’s eyes went wide. “You talked me into it.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

“Well, that’s what happened.”

“I don’t think so.” Brennan chuckled, letting her hands glide over his back and cupping his tight rear end. “But if you want to argue the point for the rest of the night …”

Sullivan let out a little growl as her nails dug into him. She draped one leg over his waist and the warmth of her skin had him sighing in contentment. Her smiling lips found his and he chuckled as he kissed her.

It was hardly fair how she melted him with just one touch, but Sullivan was used to it by now. And he knew it went both ways. He kissed her neck and she practically purred.

Without her permission, her body arched beneath him. Sullivan began to drop soft, little kisses all over her and Brennan felt drenched in liquid adoration. She gasped his name as he pushed oh so slowly inside her.

“Yes. Please. Oh. Yesss.”

“Kitten.”

The single word was breathed huskily against her mouth. It made her shiver from head to toe, the way he tended to whisper that word as he sheathed himself soul deep inside her. Her short nails raked gently between his shoulder blades and she saw him swallow, eyes going to half-mast in pleasure.

Sullivan gave one slow thrust. And then a second. By the third, both her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, her palms stroking up and down his back. She loved the feel of him under her hands. Warm skin, shifting muscles, and irresistible in so many ways.

Sullivan was as close to her as he could be, but she wanted him even closer. She wanted him all the way beneath the skin.

With every slick glide, her lips would press a kiss to his chin or his lips or his cheek. Sullivan braced a hand on the bed and buried the other one in her hair. He captured her mouth in kiss after kiss. Brennan slid a hand up to cup his nape in sweet possession.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Sullivan whispered hoarsely.

He needed to see that ocean blue that rippled a hundred different shades. Her fingers around his neck tightened and her eyes were wide enough to drown in. He could see the rest of his life in those eyes. Every single time. Everything disappeared—nightmares, anxiety, worries—when he looked into that ever-changing blue.

“I’m right here,” she murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sullivan nodded, moaning softly as her hips rocked against him. Her body clenched him so damn tightly and it was impossible not to pulse into her in dizzying pleasure. But his eyes were open and so were hers. Sullivan didn’t think there was anything more perfect than the way she unraveled in his arms without hesitation.

“Bastion.”

“Yeah, baby.” Breathing hard, he gathered her close and tucked her against his body. “I’m right here too. I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

They were spent, but he loved having her pliant, warm body in his arms. Her cheek rubbed affectionately against his chest and he smiled, skimming his fingers over her spine.

It was funny how she always curled next to him like a contented kitty, but in the morning, Sullivan knew he’d likely find her on the other side of their king-sized bed. He didn’t mind. Because no matter how far away she slid during the night, when he reached for her in the morning, she always rolled right back into his arms.

She let out a happy little sigh and tilted her head up to look at him. “I love you, Sullivan.”

He cupped her nape and smiled as he lowered his head to meet her lips. “I know.”

Even before his eyes opened, Sullivan knew their outdoor wedding ceremony would require a change of plans. The sound of rain filtered loud and clear.

Good thing he was marrying Emerson Brennan and she had a plan B and C in place for anything that might go wrong.

“It’s raining.”

At her voice, his eyes popped open to find her on her side, hands tucked neatly under her cheek.

“Yeah.” He reached out and tugged her close. Sullivan let his fingers slip through her hair as it fell against her bare back. The softness of her skin and the nearly soothing ping of the rain against the window made his bad dream feel a million miles away. “Guess we gotta move indoors.”

“It won’t be a problem,” she assured confidently.

His mouth kicked up in a tiny smile. “So … any chance this is some kind of bad omen or something?”

Sullivan knew what her answer would be and she didn’t disappoint.

“Of course not,” she scoffed. “Rain is nothing but liquid precipitation. It’s just moisture moving along three-dimensional zones of temperature.”

“Good,” he murmured, smoothing a hand over her warm, bare back. “Because I’m so going to marry you even if there’s a freaking hurricane outside.”

Brennan chuckled lowly, sliding one leg over his thigh. “Just think …” he mused in a raspy, sleepy voice.

“The next time we sleep in this bed, you …” Sullivan let his hand slide down until he cupped her rear end with a soft possessiveness, “will be my wife.”

Her head lifted, arm resting on his bare chest for support. “That term is needlessly restrictive. I prefer life partner.”

Sullivan smirked and pulled her even closer, pressing his mouth against hers.

“Life partner?” he teased. “We’re not a gay couple, kitten. Plus, I kinda like the sound of, this here is my wife, Dr. Emerson Brennan,” he said with a cheeky smirk.

She smacked his ass. “You’re not as amusing as you think you are.”

With a laugh, Sullivan rolled over her. Threading his fingers with hers, he pulled her arms up towards the headboard.

“I’m very funny,” he said huskily, pressing a deep kiss to the base of her throat. “I make you laugh.”

“Only sometimes,” she sniffed, but then his morning erection pressed snugly against her sex and she gasped.

“And you’ll be my husband, by the way,” Brennan felt necessary to inform him.

His lips were making a beeline straight for her breasts, but at the words, Sullivan raised his head. Her hair was tousled prettily, and her eyes were smiling even as one of her eyebrows arched up.

He wasn’t sure what it was—her words or her sexy body sprawled beneath him or that damn taunting eyebrow—but his throat went dry and his body hardened even more. Heat raced through him so fast, Sullivan thought he would choke on it.

“That’s right,” he rasped out. With a groan, he pumped between her thighs. When her legs spread wider in invitation, Sullivan lost all control and plunged inside her. “Fuck, kitten. Always so goddamn tight.”

Her feet planted firmly on the mattress and instinctively, she bucked up into his thrust. His hands were still laced with hers above them and his hold tightened. Sullivan went hard and deep into her and a little whimper of pleasure escaped her.

He pounded, pounded and her eyes practically glazed over. His own gaze was dark, eyes narrowed and trained rapturously on her softly bouncing breasts. Brennan was sure he didn’t even realize his tongue had swept out to lick his bottom lip.

With a soft groan, she panted, “Suck me.”

As if the words were a magic string, his head lowered immediately, lips closing hotly over a tightly pearled nipple. Her back arched, pushing into his mouth and his tongued rasped over the hard bud before sucking it roughly. Rasped and sucked. Rasped and sucked. Like the most erotic repetitive motion that ever was.

By the time Sullivan switched to her neglected breast, Brennan’s eyes had closed and she just let the pleasure drown her. Every tug and lick went straight to her clit until her own hips felt frantic, twisting up and meeting his. She gasped his name in a choked tone and his head snapped up.

“Kitten,” he moaned, head crashing down to claim her mouth. His tongue plunged wildly, mimicking the motion of his body below. Brennan writhed beneath him and her perked nipples, so hard and wet from his mouth dragged across his chest.

“Bastion …God,” she panted desperately. “Please.”

“Wrap your legs around me,” he groaned, part order, part plea. Warm and smooth, she wrapped around him. “Oh damn, yeah. So fucking hot.”

“So close, so close,” she whimpered, straining against him.

Sullivan released her hands and her arms immediately wrapped around his neck. He shifted and palmed her ass, pressing her harder against him.

“Baby, you’re drenched,” Sullivan whispered hotly into her ear. In reaction, she clenched around him and he shuddered, desperate to whip her into the kind of shattering orgasm he could feel gathering at the base of his spine. “So wet, so tight, and all fucking mine.”

She buried her face against his neck and pulsed, a hot, gushing release that had him moaning from deep inside.

“Yeah,” Sullivan breathed heavily, pounding into her in a wild, raw frenzy. “Fuck yeah. Em, Em,” he rasped again and again, exploding with one final thrust into her.

Hazily, Sullivan wondered if there was any way they could get married without having to get up from the bed. With some effort, he moved off her, but she turned also, upper body sprawling over his still heaving chest.

His fingers threaded lazily over the hair spread like a fan over him. Brennan felt her eyes fluttering, the way he played with her hair always made her sleepy. She should get up, but moving at the moment felt entirely too difficult. Instead, she closed her eyes.

Her fingertips moved softly up and down his side and Sullivan sighed happily. Lazy caresses and the rhythmic sound of the rain lulled them both back to sleep.

An hour later, the sound of Sullivan’s phone had them both coming awake.

“Your phone,” Brennan mumbled.

Slightly disoriented, he extended a hand and answered the noisy appliance. “Sullivan.”

“Brennan better be on her way here!”

He winced at the indignantly loud voice. “Annabelle?”

“Sullivan, do you know what time it is?”

He sent a glance at the clock. “Um …eleven?”

Annabelle inhaled deeply. “Thirty. Eleven thirty,” she gritted out. “You’re supposed to be getting married in less than five hours.”

Sullivan smiled automatically. “I know.”

“Then where are you?”

“Um …”

Another deep breath that fairly begged for patience. “You’re still in bed, aren’t you?”

“Um …”

“Oh, for god’s sake.” Her exasperation came through, loud and clear. “How much sex can two people have," she muttered and Sullivan wisely kept his mouth shut. “Tell Brennan we’re moving to the east gardens greenhouse because of the rain.”

He conveyed the information and got a sleepy nod. “She says fine.”

“She could have warned me about your demon child,” Annabelle said. It had been quite the shock when during breakfast there had been no trace of the sweet, angelic girl Annabelle was used to.

Sullivan laughed. “Put her on.”

“She’s playing with Henry,” Annabelle said briskly. “Get your asses out of bed. Or you’ll both be late to your own damn wedding.” With that, she promptly hung up.

Sullivan dropped the phone and turned to Brennan.

“We’re in trouble,” he said, tilting her chin up for a soft kiss.

Brennan smiled against his lips. “Annabelle said we shouldn’t have sex the night before the wedding.”

He chuckled sexily. “Oops.”

“Abstinence was supposed to build the anticipation and thus positively heighten the overall experience of our wedding night,” she explained, quite seriously. Her lips pursed in consideration. “Do you think perhaps we should have listened to her?”

Sullivan scoffed. “What? No. Believe me, our wedding night will be fine.”

“Fine?” She frowned in consternation. “I don’t think I will be satisfied with fine.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

With a groan, he dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “I mean, we could spend all day having sex today and our wedding night would still be amazing.”

“Well, research does suggest that married couples are likely to have less sex,” she informed him. “Of course, studies vary wildly and the results are woefully inconclusive—”

With a little growl, he palmed her bare butt and nipped her shoulder. “We are not going to have that problem.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I love you, because you love me.” Her lips parted, likely to argue, but he nipped her again, on her neck and then trailed a row of tiny kisses to her mouth. “Because before I fell in love with you, I wanted you and after it, I wanted you more. Because even when I wanna strangle you, I still want to hold you. Because, I didn’t think it was possible to be this happy, but you make it possible.”

“Sullivan …”

“Because, kitten …” His hand stroked up her back to cup around her cheek and his thumb brushed gently across her soft bottom lip. “Because you can annoy me, piss me off, or drive me crazy like no one can and yet no one could ever fit me so perfectly. Because every day I find something else about you that turns me on. Because you have the most beautiful mind, the most beautiful heart and that you choose to share both with me, makes me so damn lucky.”

Her eyes glittered and Brennan could barely swallow. “I …I’m lucky too,” she whispered softly.

“I love you. I love you so much.” He leaned forward, placing one soft, tender kiss on her lips. “You’re perfect.”

She let out a little watery laugh. “You know I’m not.”

“Perfect,” he repeated tenderly. “And absolutely beautiful from the inside out.”

“So are you.”

Sullivan laughed softly against her mouth. “I’m glad you think so.”

Brennan nodded solemnly. “I do.” Her arms went around him, holding him close. “I really do.”

He held her against him, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “We need to go soon,” she murmured after a bit.

“It’s okay.” Sullivan stroked her hair and sighed at the softness of the strands. “They can’t get started without us.”

Six hours later, Emerson stood next to him.

There was no walking down the aisle, no white dress, and no veil.

Instead, there was a pair of jeweled blue eyes that smiled into his and dark, silky hair that felt glorious against his fingers.

Absolutely perfect.