Page 37 of Her Wedding Night

Shocked, I yank back and stare at him.

A dark shadow passes behind his eyes. “If you need that. I’ll be whatever you need.”

“Pretty sure you can’t fuck me if you adopt me.” More humor. Armor armor armor.

He strokes his fingers over my cheek. “I told myself last night that if all I got was a single, perfect memory of rubbing against your sweet pussy, that would be enough to keep me warm for the rest of my life. If you need us to stop that so I can be something else to you, I would do that in a heartbeat.”

Heat swarms inside me.A single, perfect memory.“Would you think about it, then? Think about and stroke yourself? Get off to your memory of fucking your adopted?—”

He tosses me on my back and starts tickling me. “Don’t finish that question.”

I laugh out loud. I laugh until I cry, and then he kisses me, and we make out in a desperate, clinging kind of way that promises we aren’t going to be changing our relationship like that.

When he finally lets me up for air, it’s only to peel off my pants and crawl between my thighs. “I need to know what you taste like.”

My head tips back as he presses his face to my belly first, then to the top of my bare thigh.

“Oh baby. You smell so fucking good.”

He goes slowly from there, his hands pushing my legs apart.

Looking at me.

Just…looking.

Then he falls into me, kissing me, pressing his face to my mound. And lower, aligning his mouth to my body. His tongue opens me up, tasting me, and he groans so loud it makes me spill arousal straight into his mouth.

“Yes,” he says, low and growly. “Give it to me.”

My thighs shake as he teases my clit with the tip of his tongue, then they clamp tight around his head when he starts sucking.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t think.

I can only feel, and I feel perfect. It’s like he’s sucking my soul out between my legs, pulling it into his body, and returning it in a new form.

“I love you,” I whisper.

He sucks harder.

“I love you,” I sob.

He makes me come.

And then I’m chanting it as he rises up to kiss me, and I taste myself on his lips, on his tongue. I whisper and sob it again and again as he holds me.I love you.

He doesn’t say it back until after I’ve jerked him off on my belly, five fast strokes that make a big pool of seed that I immediately wish was inside me.

And then, after he’s mopped up his mess with a shirt and he’s holding me again, he looks me in the eye and says, very calmly, “I love you, too. I have from the moment I first saw you in a photograph, and I had to accept that get to be your person.”

“You’re my person,” I promise.

I don’t know how I know, but I know it in my soul.

I know that on Monday, and two years from now, and thirty years from now, Gabriel will be the love of my life.

EPILOGUE

---