Sixteen years of wanting her, collapsing into a single, perfect collision.
When we break apart, panting, our foreheads pressed together, I whisper against her lips, “Dammit, Sparky, I’ve missed you.”
Her breath shudders.
Mine matches it.
And then—we’re on each other.
Hands everywhere—tugging, pulling, desperate.
Buttons parting, zippers lowering, fabric whispering across skin.
Her dress slips down her shoulders like it’s been waiting for this moment.
My shirt hits the floor.
Her fingers are sinking into my hair.
My mouth is tracing the line of her jaw, her throat, and her sexy as fuck collarbone.
We’re smiling and sighing—moaning and laughing—rediscovering each other with a hunger that borders on worship.
And as clothes fall away and bare skin meets bare skin, one truth beats louder than anything.
This is real.
This is happening.
This is us.
And I’m never letting her go again.
ChapterTwenty-Four
Adrianna
Holy.Fucking.Shit.
Okay, so I’m not completely naïve.I had an inkling when Nathan agreed to do this—to marry me—that we’d wind up between the sheets.You know, just for old time’s sake.
But this doesn’t feel like that.
This feels—well, it feels real.
Nathan is touching me like a man on a mission.
Like he likes what he sees despite the extra pounds and the years that’ve passed.
Because, yeah, we’ve both gotten older.
But where he’s only gotten hotter—more carved, more confident, more impossibly broad-shouldered—I’ve gotten, well,softer.Softer and rounder.
My curves are way curvier.
My thighs are thicker.
My stomach is less flat.
