Bridal Style Carrying Mga Nobela at Kwento

I asked, surprised. "Tradition," he said simply. "The bride's feet must not touch the ground before the chapel doors. The groom must carry her inside." I wrapped my arms around his neck. His ancient, comforting scent of ice and snow surrounded me, and I felt strangely safe. With everyone watching, Damien carried me toward the chapel doors. Just then, I caught the faintest curve of his lips. It was the barest hint of a smile. A flicker of satisfaction. And my frozen heart skipped a beat.

The gown fit her like a dream, hugging her curves before cascading into a graceful train that trailed behind her. Carmen's earrings dangled elegantly, each delicate piece catching the light as she turned her head. They were a family heirloom, passed down through generations, lending a touch of sentimentality to her ensemble. Her shoes, adorned with tiny crystals, sparkled as she slipped them on, adding a touch of glamour to her bridal look.

He enters the elevator with me still on his shoulder. " What are you doing?" I chuckle. " We are from our honeymoon. It is tradition for the husband to carry his wife to the bedroom." his voice is so sexy. " Bridal style, not like this, barbarian!" " Well, as you know, I'm coarser," he reminds me. I kiss and bite his shoulder. " Teeth!" he smacks my butt. The elevator stops, and he steps out. I see River standing by the staircase, and my mood dulls. Zuriel tightens his hold on me and goes past her.

She was having a fever, making Damien eyebrow tugged together. In a blink of an eye, he swiftly shifted their position and lifted her up in his arms, carrying her in a bridal style. He held her a little bit high, so her hot cheeks were resting on his shoulder, securely tucked underneath his neck. But he didn't bother about it, he was more focused on the way her breathing was getting weaker and slower.

Without asking, he lifted me into his arms again. The bridal carry felt… different now. Closer. My breath caught as one of his hands shifted slightly under the knees, pulling me tighter against his chest. My fingers instinctively curled into the front of his tuxedo, gripping the smooth fabric. His heartbeat was steady. Strong. Unshakable. I pressed my cheek against him before I could stop myself. His steps faltered. Just for a second. Then he kept walking. Inside the mansion was impossibly quiet. The marble floors reflected soft chandelier light, and the air smelled faintly of cedarwood and something crisp and expensive.

I gripped the bed tighter, putting on my heels but he stopped me. “You are not allowed to wear heels for now,” he picked it up, making me gawk at him. “I can't walk barefooted,” “And that's why I wanna carry you. It's not much of a big deal,” he said, as if he was tired of listening to my excuses. Without any signal, he came forward. I was thinking that he wanted to help me up until he suddenly carried me in a bridal style. I let out a yelp and gripped his shirt for support, my widened eyes glued on him.

Paired with long brown trousers, brown fitted coats with narrow sleeves, high collars and black boots. He walked up to the two guards and maids that arrived earlier. After exchanging a few words the maids went back in and the two guards alongside the young man walked up to the carriage. The guards opened the carriage doors, while the man stepped in. He stood before me. “Don’t worry, I will take her in.” He said politely. I removed my arms that I had draped round her shoulders earlier and shifted aside to let him carry her. He carefully brought her down from the carriage and carrying her in a bridal style he stepped back into the mansion.

she said, forcing herself to stand. The moment her heel touched the ground again- A sharp, needle-like pain shot through her foot. Her body instantly lost balance. She stumbled sideways- And just before she hit the ground- An arm wrapped around her waist. Pulled. Steady. She fell straight into his embrace. Before she could react- He bent down, slid one arm beneath her knees, and lifted her effortlessly into a bridal carry. Smooth. Natural. Decisive. Scarlett's eyes widened slightly as she looked at him.

Sara Michaels Kingsley didn’t say another word. He simply bent down, slid one arm under my knees and the other behind my back, and lifted me effortlessly into a bridal carry. I let out a small, surprised laugh, my arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as my cream-white gown pooled around us. “Kingsley!” I gasped, half-laughing, half-breathless. “You don’t have to carry me everywhere tonight.” He smiled down at me, his eyes soft and full of affection. “Tonight, I want to. You’ve been on your feet all evening. Let me take care of you.”

"Though legally I'm keeping Martinez too. Bella Martinez Sterling." "Hyphenated. Very modern." "I'm a modern woman married to a traditional man. We compromise." The elevator doors opened. Alexander swept me into his arms. "What are you doing?" I laughed. "Carrying my bride over the threshold. It's tradition." "You're going to hurt your back." "You're not that heavy. Especially for someone carrying my child." He carried me inside, kicking the door shut behind us. The penthouse had been transformed. Rose petals everywhere. Candles lit. Champagne chilling—sparkling cider for me.