Page 126 of Six Month Wife
The tears flow, I can’t hold back the flood gates any longer.
“You may now kiss your bride.”
He dips his head, lips brushing mine like we’ve got all the time in the world.
But we don’t.
Because the second our mouths meet, the room erupts. Cheers. Whistles. Someone, probably Cam, yells, “About damn time!”
I’m grinning too hard to kiss properly.
He presses his forehead to mine. “Let’s go celebrate this chaos properly so I can take you home and consummate this once and for all.”
“Excellent idea.”
He grabs my hand and we turn together. He raises our hands to the crowd.
We're married, officially this time. As a new song swells through the speakers, we head down the aisle again, this time with laughter behind us and a future waiting on the dance floor.
We pause behind the French doors just off the garden courtyard, where the reception is already set. String lights glow overhead, and tables glitter with gold-rimmed glasses.
Someone queues up the music.
He pulls me to the side, tugs me in by the waist like he’s been waiting all damn day to touch me.
“Hey.”
My breathing stalls. “Hey.”
His fingers tighten at my hips. “Do you have any idea how hard it was not to kiss you during those vows?”
I lift my chin, smirking as his mouth hovers close. “I was tryingsohard not to make it obvious I wanted the same thing.”
His forehead rests against mine, warm and steady. His breath brushes my lips, soft and unhurried.
“I loved everything you said,” he murmurs. “You’re amazing, Mrs. Matthews.”
“You’re smitten.”
“I am,” he says, voice low and rough. “Gonna be a problem.”
“I’m not complaining, Dr. Matthews.”
His eyes drop to my mouth like he’s already undoing me with just a glance. Then he leans in and kisses me. It’s slow, claiming, like he’s not in any rush to come up for air. My knees go a little loose. The world tips sideways.
He doesn’t stop right away. Just lingers, brushing his nose along mine, and whispers against my lips, “I’m gonna have to kiss you again at least a hundred more times tonight.”
I pretend to think, my voice a little breathier than I mean for it to be. “Just don’t stop with a kiss. I’ve got big plans for tonight.”
His hand slides lower, fingers skimming over satin and skin like he’s mapping out those plans himself.
“Oh,” he says, gaze dropping with heat. “You don’t have to worry about that at all.”
He pushesopen the door to the honeymoon suite and kicks it shut behind us.
“Still got big plans?” he asks, voice low, hand already tugging at my zipper.
“Oh, baby,” I say, pulling him in, “you’ve got no idea.”
