Page 46 of The Cowboy's Forbidden Bride

“If you don’t do something,” she whispered, leaning down close to him so her face was in his, “I will kill you. With my very own hands.”

“Violent threats on our wedding night?” He made a chiding sound, but there was a gleam in his dark gold gaze. “I am shocked and appalled.”

“Wilder,” she said, but on a moan when he nipped at her collarbone. “I’m begging you. Please.”

“Well,” he said, laughter in his voice and making his chest move, too, “if you insist.”

Then he rolled her over and came up on top of her, and everything seemed to shoot off into space. If space was a bonfire, and they were nothing but kindling.

He kissed her everywhere. He teased her, and she would say eventorturedher, in ways that made her realize that she didn’t know her body at all. And that all the things she’d thought he’d already taught her hadn’t prepared her for this at all.

The weight of him above her with nothing between them, just skin to skin.

All the places where he was smooth, and then not smooth, from his hair-roughened chest all the way down to where their legs tangled together. She loved every bit of it. It was everything. How could there be more?

But oh, how she wanted thatmore.

Wilder rolled aside and grabbed something from the nightstand, took a moment, and then he was back. He nudged against the core of her and where she expected a pinch or straight-up agony orsomethingtoo overwhelming to bear—there was only softness. Heat.

And the astonishing, outrageous,magicalfeel of himfillingher, slowly but surely.

Until she shifted her hips to accommodate him, slightly worried that she’d misjudged this whole thing and there was no possible way that he could fit—

“I’m going to fit just fine,” he told her, kissing her on her mouth and then across her jaw, and Cat didn’t know if she’d actually said that out loud.

Or if he simply knew every single thing that was happening to her, even in her thoughts.

That only made it hotter.

He eased in, farther and farther, and she thought that she could understand why thiscouldhave hurt, though it didn’t. If he went faster. If she hadn’t already come apart as many times as she had. If he wasn’t…him.

And then, finally, he was all the way inside her and when she breathed, she couldfeel himthere. Everything was fullness, heat, hardness. He propped himself up on his elbows, gazed down at her, and once again looked entirely too relaxed. As if he couldhang outlike that,lazily, forever.

Cat decided that she was tired of being tutored.

She wrapped her arms around him, grabbing hold of his wide, naked back the way she’d imagined, dreamed, fantasized about and she arched up to press her breasts against him too. That got her the quick reward of his swift intake of breath.

So she shifted until she could cross her legs behind his back too and it turned out that he could go that little bit deeper still.

And Cat might not have known what she was doing, in the sense that she’d never done it before. But she decided that meant she might as well be creative.

She raised her hips and moved them around, creating a push and a pull, and then—

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, and there was nothing lazy about the way he said it.

He dropped down, wrapped himself around her, and began to move.

And it wasextraordinary.

It was a lesson and a love letter, and it felt like a song.

If a song could be made entirely of fire and need.

And together, they sang and sang until it all exploded, like a shower of stars all around them, though it wasn’t yet night.

Comets shooting, stars falling, galaxies shifting.

Wrapped up together like one.

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