Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate by Caroline Above Story

#Chapter 425 – Under the Moon

Cora

After I dress, I surprise myself by feeling a little shy as I reach for the door to the bathroom to go back to the tiny bedroom where Roger’s waiting or me.

Because, I mean, it’s no secret why we’re here. And Roger’s not stupid – he probably figured out what I was doing when I went into the bathroom with a big white box.

But still – it’s always something, isn’t it? Anticipating what it might be like when the man you love sees you in your wedding dress for the first time. And as I think it, quite suddenly, I can’t wait.

I pull the bathroom door open and step back into the bedroom, my eyes instantly going to Roger, standing by the open doors to the beach, the ocean air lifting his hair lightly in the breeze.

And, as I knew they would be, his eyes are already on me. Because he was waiting. And my face bursts into a grin as his expression goes slack.

I feel it all down the bond, which is open to me right now. His awe, and his pride – his love, his desire, the overwhelming swell of pleasure that comes from seeing how beautiful he thinks I look right now on this night – in this dress

“Cora,” he says, the sound of my name rough as it works its way from his tight throat. But it’s the only word he can manage, lifting a hand to cover his mouth and shaking his head at me, just staring.

I turn a little so that I’m facing him completely, still smiling so hard my face might start aching if I keep this up for much longer.

“So, you like it?” I ask, twisting a little so that he can see more of the dress, see how the beadwork catches the light of the fire and makes the dress look incandescent in the glowing dark of this little bedroom.

growl rumbles in his chest, his only answer. And

takes my hands as I come around the bed, using them to pull me closer so that he can slide his hands over my body, feeling the intricacies of the dress for himself, as well as the contrast it presents to the bare skin of my back, my arms.

I can’t pick – do I want you close, so I can keep my hands on you? Or far away, so I can

wrinkle my nose and smile up at him, terribly pleased. “I’m glad you like it,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I liked

that I’m going to have to rip it

clutching the dress at

his head at me and closing the distance between us again, hungry. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to help it. How

swatting at him. “And you will respect the dress! It

then I hesitate, blushing, because I myself now am on the verge of saying something very

mouth quirking up as he senses it. “Tell

laughing and looking

no real intention of letting Roger be the boss of our lives, like Ella and Sinclair – his gentle fingers under my chin, turning my face

“I never had a mom with a wedding dress to hand down to

then – not of frustration, or of annoyance, or anything like that. But simply because he can’t help

know that we’re both thinking the same thought: that we have so much life ahead of us, and

but with the full force of his commitment to me, to us, and to our future. It sweeps though me and I press myself close against him, my hands wrapped in the fabric of his shirt,

to move backwards then, slowly guiding me to the bed, but as I realize the direction of his intentions I

asks, a little

this very moment. And then I look back up into his eyes. “I think

he asks, confused. “Cora, there’s nothing that says –

shaking my head, utterly convinced. “Please – I…I’m sure

but not caring much. He gives a quick shrug and then turns to the bed, yanking the duvet off the top and wrapping it into a ball. Then, he passes it to me. Confused, I take it, but as soon as I do Roger

towards the beach, and the sea, and the sky – knowing, for some reason, that we have

ear now. “Under your mother’s moonlight, as you will it.” And then he carries me out into the sand, which as he says