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“I love you too. But you said you were worried about fitting into your dress,” he drawls, mischief on his face as he moves the squares away from me.
I grab his arm before he can. “One won’t hurt.”
* * *
When we finally get back tothe house, it’s almost eleven.
“Just saw Haley’s text,” he says as we head into the house and I hit the lights. “Family meeting sounds ominous.”
“She’s right. We should get everything out in the open before the wedding. But right now…” I turn to step out of my shoes before lifting my face to his. “I want my husband.”
Tyler pulls the door closed behind us. “You have him.”
His lips claim mine, warm and coaxing. He tastes like wine and a bit like sugar, and all of it blends with the masculinity that’s always been him.
I step between his legs, letting him pull me close. His low growl of approval has the hairs lifting on my neck even before he traces a finger down my back above the dress.
My fingers reach for his belt, and this time he doesn’t stop me until I work it off. He lifts me and carries me across the living room and up the stairs.
“Pretty sure your contract forbids you from carrying women up stairs,” I say, genuine fear in my throat as we ascend even though his strong arms don’t shake once.
“You gonna tell on me?” he teases as we reach the top.
He doesn’t stop but walks me right into the master bedroom where I brought my suitcases earlier and sets me on the massive bed.
He kneels over me, lifting my hand to press a kiss to the back. “I’ve been thinking about how I want to do this all month. Take my time with you. Remind you how good we are together.” Then he drags my dress up and presses two fingers between my thighs. “But I’ve spent my life waiting for you. I can’t wait anymore.”
He strips the dress off me, and I work his clothes off until he’s glorious and naked in front of me. A savage god, but one who knows his own weaknesses.
I want to kiss and touch every inch of him. To take him in my mouth until he groans in approval, opens those impossibly dark, familiar eyes to slits from above me, and says I’m it for him.
“Wait.” I scramble out from under him to get my birth control pills. “You meant what you said about wanting kids, right?”
“Yes.”
He watches, curious, as I hold the half-used package of pills over the garbage.
“Do it.” His voice is a rasp.
I let them drop, and the second I do, he’s on me.
He drags me to the bed and pins me beneath him. I’m already so turned on before he shifts between my thighs, nudging me wider so he fits at my opening. The feel of him pressing inside is unreal.
I hope I never get used to him.
“New. Every fucking time, you feel new,” he murmurs against my hair.
He builds me up, finding a punishing rhythm.
“I’m probably not getting pregnant tonight,” I pant.
“Gotta practice like we mean it.”
Once we both come, he holds me against him, our hearts racing together, before he goes to the bathroom.
A light comes on—his phone on the table. I reach to flip it over but catch sight of the notifications.
Dozens of notifications. Emails from lawyers.
