Page 45 of Yours, Now and Always
The rest of the family drifts.
Gage’s parents head to their cottage to settle in. That’s after they both let me know how happy they are to be here for the wedding. To watch me marry their son.
Kristen and Bradford wander toward the sitting room with fresh coffee in hand, deep in conversation about whether they’d choose to erase memories or plant fake ones in people. It’s another one of Kristen’s signature questions; the kind she’s apparently been asking Bradford since they got married. And ofcourse, he’s taking it seriously. Giving her a thoughtful answer like he always does. Some couples talk about movies they’ve loved and trips they want to take. These two debate hypothetical scenarios like they’re prepping for real-life application.
Callan and Olivia disappear outside after stealing a bottle of wine and two glasses.
Colin vanishes into the garden and stretches out on a weathered bench like he’s entering his Regency era.
Tim and Marin linger by the flower bundles in the kitchen, discussing whether rose quartz is a legitimate excuse for crying or just a vibe amplifier.
Hayden walks outside without a word. His usual version of an Irish goodbye. He never stays long when the air gets this full of feeling.
And Gage takes my hand.
We slip upstairs, his palm firm against mine, the door to our bedroom clicking softly behind us as the hum of voices float up from downstairs.
Then it’s just us. My husband. His arms. That heated look of his.
He pulls me in tight, his hands on my body possessively as if he’s been holding back for hours. His scent wraps around me like it always does, a drug I can never get enough of.
His fingers find the hem of the shirt I stole from him this morning, and he slides one hand beneath it. His thumb brushes over the skin of my stomach like he doesn’t care that we have maybe only ten minutes before Tim separates us for our afternoon apart—my brother’s emotionally branded version of a bachelor and bachelorette party that we somehow agreed to.
I have a million other things I could be doing. Deciding on my lipstick for tomorrow. Checklists. A minor wedding-day hair crisis I’ve been ignoring. But none of it matters. Because Gagehas his hands on me and his eyes locked on me like I’m the only thing that exists.
He bends his mouth to my neck, kissing me there with the kind of hunger that doesn’t apologize. “Do you know how fucking hard it was to sit next to you through that whole lunch and not touch you the way I wanted to?”
I’m turned on and moving quickly into unable-to-think territory, but I manage a sexy smile and say, “I distinctly recall your hand on my leg the entire time.”
“Correction,” he says, gliding his hand higher up under my shirt until he cups my breast. “I spent the entire time stopping myself from dragging you inside and fucking you against the nearest wall.”
Holy obsessed husband.
I pull his mouth down and kiss him hard before saying breathlessly, “We only have about ten minutes.”
“Then I’m gonna ruin you fast.”
His mouth crashes down onto mine like it’s his right. No hesitation. Just filthy want and heat and full-body possession.
He strips the shirt off me, breaking our kiss to look at my body, his eyes roaming hungrily over my breasts. “This fucking bra,” he says. “It’s a goddamn distraction.”
A second later, it hits the floor, and Gage has his hands and lips on my breasts. He sucks one of my nipples into his mouth and groans as he squeezes my breast. I lean into him, hands in his hair, and lose myself in the pleasure.
He spends a long time with my breasts before lifting his face to mine. His expression is absolute filth as his hands go to my jeans and he says, “You know what I thought about all through lunch?”
He flicks the button of my jeans, lowers the zipper, then presses two fingers against me through my panties.
“This pretty little pussy stretched around my cock, tight and soaked while you tried to be a good girl and stay quiet.”
I moan. Loudly.
He slides his fingers into my panties, one finger pushing inside me. And hisgroan? God, it’s indecent. As if just the feel of me is enough to undo him.
“Jesus,” he rasps. “Were you this wet while you were sitting next to me at that fucking table?”
I can’t speak. Can’t think.
“Tell me how bad you need this.” His mouth is at my ear now. “Tell me you want your husband to wreck you.”
