Page 238 of The Perfect Wrong

I’m in his arms, running a hand over his handsome face as he carries me into the room. The instant I see the bed, I’m laughing.

It’s even more ridiculously over-the-top than the beast in his old guest room.

A Victorian monster on steroids with posts reaching almost to the ceiling. The burgundy canopy could probably hide us for days, and maybe that’s the point.

There’s no denying how crazy possessive he is and I love, love, love it.

“Special request,” he tells me. “I didn’t get a chance to do half the shit I wanted in that old bed at the house. I’m not getting you pregnant in anything that’s not fit for a queen.”

Pregnant.

Inwardly, I’m screaming.

How can a single word make me grab on and kiss him until I’m breathless?

I know.

It’s a little early for a baby after tying the knot, but writing is always family friendly. The journal I’m with is pretty generous with maternity leave, too.

Plus, I know he’s talked about having a big family for months. How many times have I watched him hoisting up kids at the greyhound runs for a better view, laughing as he shows them how to engage the big dogs with dignity?

I’m just worried I might break my face smiling today.

My panties burn a little more each time I think about our future.

I’m so ready. I’m willing.

And this weekend, I’m going to do my damnedest to give him the greatest gift of all.

“Get this off before I destroy another dress,” he rumbles, pushing me onto the bed.

He’s right behind me, throwing the curtain shut behind him.

I pick at my dress, trying to unwrap it, while he effortlessly drops out of his fancy outfit.

Escaping from your wedding dress must always be a Houdini-worthy challenge, but with his help, we make it a ten-minute affair full of steaming kisses.

Once he’s naked and giving me that feral look, it’s on.

“There we go, princess,” he whispers, slipping one white shoe back on my foot. “Everything except the heels.”

I laugh and try slapping him away, but he’s too determined.

He reaches for my legs, barely waiting until they’re apart to shove his mouth to my simmering core.

“Chris!” I moan his name for the first of a million times tonight.

My fingernails reach for the smooth sheets, grabbing fistfuls, already overwhelmed by this glorious man.

I pull the sheets hard, all I can do to keep my brain intact as I pant wildly, then reach down to clasp his hands as he goes to work.

My newly minted husband laps my pussy so sweetly before driving up to my clit.

Then he finds the sweetness and draws it between his teeth. He holds me fiercely while my hips writhe.

I think we’ve set a new record.

Married woman to hot mess in under thirty seconds.

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