She slid from the squishy seat and went to stand by the side of the basket, staring down at the lush green landscape below. Sed handed her the pair of engraved champagne flutes and gave the bottle a vigorous shake.
“Sed, don’t shake it.”
Too late. He lodged his thumbs firmly under the plastic cork, and it ejected from the end of the bottle with a loud pop. White froth exploded from the mouth of the bottle into the sky beyond the basket.
“Someone’s cows might be a bit tipsy tonight,” Jessica said, peering down at the miniature black and white spotted animals scattered across the expansive field below.
“Much more fun than regular cow tipping. But there’s no alcohol in this since you’re now drinking for two.”
Sed took a champagne glass from her and filled it to the brim with sparkling grape juice before handing it back and filling the second glass.
“To us,” he said, clinking his glass against hers and downing the entire glass in four long gulps.
“To us,” she echoed, taking a tiny sip her own bubbly. It wasn’t quite as delicious as real champagne, but she didn’t get along with real champagne very well in the first place. The last time she’d gotten drunk on champagne, she’d been in Vegas and had said some pretty awful things to Sed. It was also when she realized why she’d hated him so much at the time. She’d hated him because no matter how much she fought it, she had never stopped loving him. And now she was glad she never would.
“Thanks,” she said, covering her lower belly with one hand. “For thinking about the baby.”
“I’m always thinking about the baby,” he said.
She smiled in gratitude and took a long drink as he reached for the bottle and refilled his glass, tossing it back without pause. Neither of them would be getting drunk tonight, but Sed seemed to suddenly hope the bubbling grape juice had fermented since his first glass. And Jessica was wondering why.
Chapter Eight
Sed refilled his glass with more grape juice and swallowed a gulp. He wished it had alcohol in it; a little liquid courage never hurt. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous anyway. She’d already married him. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t written songs about her before. Hell, he’d performed them in front of tens of thousands of fans, but this particular string of lyrics—the ones he wanted to sing in her ear—was too personal to share with the world. She’d be the only one to ever hear it. Well, except for Gary the pilot, if he was paying them any mind.
“It’s so beautiful up here,” Jessica said, leaning her forearms on the rim of the basket, her glass of bubbly held loosely between her elegant hands.
Sed moved to stand directly behind her. He shifted to lean against her back. Not too solidly—he didn’t want to put too much pressure on the baby after the poor little tyke had been squashed into a corset earlier that day. Not that Jess hadn’t looked fucking hot in that corset. She had. He’d just felt a bit sorry for Sed Junior. If his son was anything like him, he liked a bit of room to let it all hang out.
“I was going to do this at the ceremony,” he said, “but things didn’t go exactly as planned.”
And maybe that unexpected deluge of rain had been a blessing.
“Do what?” she asked with a giggle. “Poke me in the ass with your junk?”
He rubbed his semi-hard cock against her ass. “My junk? Surely it deserves more respect than that.”
“Very well. Poke me in the ass with your magnificent specimen of man-meat. Your love hammer. Your one-eyed anaconda.”
He chuckled. “That’s better.” Maybe… “Our vows,” he said, burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair. “We never said them. Not the real ones.”
She stiffened and covered her mouth with her hand. “You’re right. How could I have forgotten?”
She tried to turn to face him, but he held her front firmly against the basket. He cupped her breasts in his hands and nuzzled the back of her neck. His cock leapt with excitement, more than ready to be buried within her slick heat. Jessica instantly went limp in his arms.
He sang the words to her; somehow they meant more that way. He held her tightly in his arms, swaying back and forth to the cadence in his head.
“There are few things that steal my breath. They would be you, you, you. And few things that I’ll love ‘til death. Also you, you, you. From the moment that you caught my eye, and I knew I had to make you mine, I wondered if I should give my heart to you. I do, I do, I do.”
“That’s so sweet,” she whispered.
He wasn’t finished.
“Only one thing makes me more complete.” He slid a hand low to cover her belly. Their child. “Part you, part me, inseparably. No way to ever untangle us two, when two become one and one becomes three.”
“Or ten if you have your way,” she said with a soft laugh.
“True. But that didn’t rhyme,” he said before continuing.
“There are few things that could steal my heart. Only you, you, you. And few things that could tear us apart.” He spoke the next line. “Or nothing. You’re stuck with me now, Jess. Like it or not.”
“I like it,” she insisted.
And then he finished the song in his baritone. “It’s true, true, true. I love you, you, you. Say I do, do, do.”
“I do!” She laughed. “I mean I did! But I still do. Did you write that?”
“Of course I wrote that. That’s why it sucks so much. My lyrics come out better when I’m angry or pissed off. So forgive the lameness of my sap.” He rested his chin on her shoulder and closed his eyes. His heart was still thudding like a spooked jackrabbit in his chest. Mushy love songs were so not his thing. He’d prefer to growl and scream about fire and brimstone any day.