“Baby, you feel so good around my bare cock,” he groans.
“More, Tate.”
I’m not sure what happens next, but the time he spent turning me on has me already on the brink and I squeeze around him, trying to hold back. Make this moment of perfection last longer.
“No, baby, don’t do that,” he says. “Let it go—because I’m right behind you.”
He thrusts in firm and deep, bottoming out a few times.
I feel that magical coiling in my belly, the fluttering of my vagina around him, and then there’s nothing I can do but let it happen. And he’s right there with me, pulsing and panting, his mouth still fused to mine.
“I think I like married sex more than single sex,” he says with a soft chuckle.
“I like any sex with you,” I whisper.
“Happy wedding day, Summer.”
“Happy wedding day, Tate.”
“I hope it was at least a little bit of what you wanted.” His voice is soft, loving.
“It was everything I could have wanted under the circumstances.”
He brushes my hair out of my eyes and lightly kisses my forehead. “I hope every day we have together can be as incredible as today.”
Me too.
Chapter 29
Tate
We’ve just gotten to the nursing home for our surprise reception when my mother’s name flashes on the screen of my phone. She doesn’t call often so I can only guess that she heard I got married and is calling to demand why she wasn’t invited. Or why she hasn’t met Summer yet. Or a million other things I’m not in the mood for.
“Did that just say ‘mom’?” Summer asks when I send the call to voicemail.
“It did. But trust me, we don’t want to talk to her right now.”
“You think she heard that we’re married?”
“Probably. It’s been all over social media that Mick and I both got married in Vegas last weekend.”
“Is that bad?”
I wobble my hand from side to side. “There will be a contingent of female fans that are bummed about it, but for the most part, it’s fine. Any press is good press. Some random person who’s scrolling comes across the wedding videos and then might think, who is that? Let me go look up their music. Maybe we get another sale.”
“I meant, for your mom.”
“I never know with them,” I say carefully. “Getting married in and of itself isn’t a huge deal. It’s the baby that’s going to put a monkey wrench in the machinery.”
“Because I got pregnant out of wedlock?” she asks.
“More because I was stupid enough to get baby trapped.”
“Oh.” She looks unhappy about this information, and I reach for her hand.
“That’s why I don’t want to talk to her today. I want you to enjoy this visit with your mom.”
“She probably isn’t going to remember that I was getting married,” she says sadly. “I don’t know why we even got all dressed up.”
