Page 88 of Stolen Hearts

Tears sprang to her eyes. Her heart swelled, bursting against her ribs.

“Yes,” she whispered, then louder, with a watery laugh. “Yes. Hell yes.”

He grinned and slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.

She stared down at it in wonder, then looked back up to find his eyes blazing with heat.

“You’ve never been in my room, have you?” He pitched his voice low.

She blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I need five minutes with you. Maybe ten.”

“What—Denver, the wedding—”

“We still have time. It won’t start for fifteen minutes. No one will notice. Come on.” He pulled on her hand. “Call it…an early wedding gift.”

Laughing breathlessly, she followed him.

Denver’s room was tucked at the end of the house. As he led her down the corridor, family photos that she longed to stop and look at flashed by. Another time, she would come and see them all. Now that she was family too—that ring on her finger officially made her part of it—she could do that.

Inside his room, the bed was made military-tight. The curtains were drawn against the fading light. And everything smelled good, like cedar, clean linen…and him.

She caught sight of the shelf filled with helmets, medals and old trophies of gold men clutching footballs.

“You played football?” she asked.

“Linebacker.” He huffed a laugh. “Didn’t help my head. Took too many hits on the field.”

She fixed her stare on a shiny bronze plaque. “You were good.”

“Could have had a full-ride scholarship. I chose the military instead.” He shook his head. “Didn’t matter anyway. Concussions sent me out of the military before I was ready.” Hetugged at his bowtie—not his dog tags—and pulled it off. “That led me here. To you. To Navy. I’d trade it all for that.”

Her heart squeezed.

He touched her, a hand on the small of her back, warm and strong, bringing her closer.

The air changed, became charged.

His fingers roamed up the zipper along her spine. “You wore this dress to kill me,” he growled.

“You wore that tux to tempt me.”

He kissed her hard, backing her toward the bed as she attacked the buttons of his jacket and tore it off his shoulders. Then his shirt, revealing steely muscle.

The zipper moving down her spine sent tingles to every corner of her body. She shrugged her shoulders, letting the gown slip off them to pool around her high heels.

She reached for his belt and fly, hungry for that stiff length bulging against his pants. When she reached his erection, wrapping her fingers around it, her gasp mingled with his groan.

“How many minutes now?” she whispered urgently against his chest, already gliding to her knees. That damn tormenting dimple in his cheek had her pussy flooding with want.

But he caught her arms and pulled her up. “Not that kind of time.” His eyes burned into hers for a split second before he claimed her lips again. He lifted her, and they fell to the bed.

As his body came down over hers, he let out a rasp. “I’ll never get enough of you.”

“Then take me.” With one hand, she worked her panties down and off one high-heel. She parted her legs, wrapping them around his muscled hips.

And he looked into her eyes and joined them in one swift, thorough, filling thrust.