Page 205 of The Woman By the Lake

I also had a thing for getting him in my mouth (ditto with me suspecting that was bigger for him than me).

And when we were ready, Riggs covered me, our mouths connected, our hands exploring, my legs curving around his thighs, and he slid inside me.

It was unhurried, and gentle, until Riggs slipped a hand between us, I put a hand against our headboard to hold myself steady, and it was not.

We didn’t come simultaneously, but I wasn’t fully down from mine before Riggs found his.

It was perfect, as ever.

And it was perfect for this day especially.

I was at the vanity in our massive bathroom, getting ready, and it had occurred to me before.

But that day, of all days, it hit me.

Hard.

Riggs had shared, like the rest of the house, he’d updated that bathroom, but he hadn’t deviated much from the layout. He had no need for a rather dramatic vanity area where a woman could sit, do her hair and makeup, and have everything, even her jewelry, at hand (yes, it had this much storage, and the jewelry drawers had locks, so Mom’s jewelry was safe).

Considering he never thought he’d find a woman to call his own, he’d shared he’d done it the way he had for resale value.

But I was thrilled he had, seeing as I could use it.

Though, it wasn’t lost on me that Sarah had sat there, in a bathroom Lincoln had designed, able to pamper herself in the way both her husbands wanted her to have.

Lavishly.

Riggs walked in looking delectable in exceptionally cut, midnight-blue dress trousers and a beautifully tailored shirt that was one shade lighter, his hair drying, but still wet and curling around his ears and neck.

His eyes seemed to sparkle white gold in that shirt.

Seriously.

“Ready to be dazzled?” he asked.

I already was.

“Always.”

“Strut your stuff, kid,” he called.

And in came Ledger, followed by Gia and our cat, Sheba (Ledger named her, and picked her, but Gia claimed her, so Ledger had taught our dog to cart our cat around with all four of her paws dangling from the sides of Gia’s thick neck, which is how Gia carted her into where we made camp when we went camping two weekends ago—my first time, also, my last (outside-bathroom-going was not my thing, in future that could be Riggs Boys’ Time)).

Ledger then struck a variety of poses in his mini-me suit that was midnight blue, like his dad’s, with a one-shade-lighter dress shirt, but he was wearing the jacket.

I slapped my hand on my chest over my robe and cried, “Be still my heart!”

“Such a goof,” Ledger replied, but he was grinning ear to ear.

I stopped messing around and gave the suit a critical eye. “Fits perfectly.”

“I look hot,” Ledger pronounced. “But this monkey suit is uncomfortable.”

“You can take off the jacket after the ceremony,” Riggs told him.

“Cool,” Ledger replied.

“Now, vamoose. Nadia has to finish getting ready. She’s running late.” Riggs turned to me. “The guests are arriving.”

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