Page 116 of Made for Reign

“Christ, Audrey,” he growls against my neck. “You’re soaked.”

“Only for you,” I whisper as his fingers find my center, circling with just the right pressure to make my breath catch. “Always for you.”

He works me with practiced skill, his mouth capturing mine in a kiss that’s equal parts tenderness and possession. I arch against his hand, already embarrassingly close to the edge. It’s always like this with him. Intense and overwhelming, like he knows my body better than I do.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against my lips. “Let me feel you come for your husband.”

The possessive claim in his words sends me spiraling, my body clenching around his fingers as pleasure washes through me in hot waves. He works me through it, his eyes never leaving mine, drinking in every gasp and moan like they’re sustenance.

“Beautiful,” he says when I finally come down, trembling and breathless. “So fucking beautiful when you fall apart for me.”

A sharp knock at the front door freezes us both.

“Reign? You up?” Marcus’s voice calls from outside. “Got the justice of the peace here early. Thought we’d go over the plan for today.”

Reign drops his forehead to mine, a string of creative curses leaving his lips. “Fucking timing,” he mutters, then raises his voice. “Give us fifteen minutes!”

“Make it twenty,” I whisper, sliding my hand beneath his waistband to find him hard and ready. “I’m not letting you walk out there like this.”

His eyes darken with renewed hunger. “Mrs. Mitchell making demands already?” But he’s already moving, pulling myshorts down my legs with efficient movements. “Better make it worth my while, Princess.”

I wrap my legs around his waist as he positions himself at my entrance. “I intend to,” I promise, pulling him down for another kiss. “For the rest of our lives.”

He pushes inside me with one smooth thrust, swallowing my cry with his mouth. As he begins to move, setting a rhythm that has my nails digging into his shoulders, I know with absolute certainty that I’ve made the right choice. That this man—complicated, protective, possessive, and utterly devoted—is exactly where I belong.

The rest of the world can wait. Right now, there’s just us, moving together in the golden mountain light of our wedding day.

Twenty minutes turns into thirty as we lose ourselves in each other completely. When Reign finally collapses beside me, both of us slick with sweat and breathing hard, I can’t help the satisfied smile that spreads across my face.

“Wow,” I murmur as Reign presses a kiss to my temple. “If that’s how you plan to start every morning as my husband, I might not survive the honeymoon.”

He laughs. “You better survive. I have plans for you.”

I giggle. “Plans, huh?”

“Extensive ones.” He flips me over. “Years worth.”

The pounding on the door starts again, more insistent this time.

“I know what you’re doing in there,” Marcus calls, his voice tinged with amusement. “But we’ve got a schedule to keep if you want to get married today.”

Reign groans but rolls out of bed, all powerful muscle and graceful movement. I take a moment to appreciate the view as he stretches, his naked body catching the morning light.

“Like what you see?” he asks, catching me staring.

“Very much.” I sit up, letting the sheet fall away. “Enough to make Marcus wait another twenty minutes.”

His eyes darken, but he shakes his head. “Later,” he promises. “After I make you my wife.”

The forest pathfeels cool beneath my bare feet, pine needles and soft earth cushioning each step. My simple white dress—nothing like the designer monstrosity Lucille and Gio selected—floats around my calves in the mountain breeze.

Ahead of me, Violet and Iris walk the narrow trail, carrying small bouquets of wildflowers matched to the loose arrangement in my hands. Neither asked why I chose to walk barefoot, to feel the earth beneath me on this day. They understand what this represents.

My final step into something real, something mine.

The afternoon sun filters through the pine branches, casting dappled patterns that dance across our path. Violet glances back, offering a reassuring smile. She’s been my rock these past weeks, fierce in her defense of me when the tabloids painted me as the villain in Gio’s death. Iris walks beside her, vibrant and alive in a flowing teal dress she picked “to match the mountain sky, darling.” They’ve stood by me without question, these friends who saw the real me even when I was still learning who that was.

The path widens, and suddenly the clearing appears before us, a natural amphitheater surrounded by tall pines, with the snow-capped mountains rising beyond.

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