Her pussy clenches around me—tight, rhythmic.
She’s close again.
“Come for me,” I growl, voice rough. “Come on my cock.”
She breaks.
Her back arches off the bed, a sharp cry tearing from her throat as she comes. Her walls clamp around me so hard I groan through my teeth, fighting to hold back, but she’s still coming, shaking, gasping, squeezing me with every wave of pleasure.
I can’t hold out.
I thrust hard twice more and explode inside her, burying myself deep, groaning her name against her neck. My whole body tightens, my release ripping through me with a force I haven’t felt in years.
When I finally collapse on top of her—careful not to crush her—she’s panting, flushed, trembling softly beneath me.
I brush a kiss against her cheek, her jaw, her lips.
She looks up at me with hazy eyes.
“Grant,” she whispers, touching my cheek.
I cradle her face, kiss her softly, sweetly, reverently.
“My wife,” I murmur against her lips.
Her breath catches.
And I know, without any doubt, I’m never letting her go.
EIGHT
Rowan
I wake slowly,warm and sore in places I’ve never been sore before, wrapped in strong arms that feel like they were molded around my body. For a moment, I don’t remember the hotel room or the chapel or the fact that I’m now, somehow, Grant Bennett’s wife.
All I know is the heat of him. The weight of him. The way my body aches in a deep, satisfied way that reminds me exactly what we did last night.
That scent that hits me first—cedar, clean soap, and something deeper that is just him—wraps around me like a blanket before I even open my eyes.
When I finally blink up, he’s awake. Has been, apparently. He’s staring down at me like he’s trying to brand me into memory.
“Morning, wife,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, something possessive woven through every syllable.
Heat floods through me. “Morning.”
His arms tighten, and he pulls me flush against his bare chest. His skin is hot and firm, and I can’t stop myself from tracing the scar near his shoulder. He shivers, catches my hand, and presses a kiss to my knuckles, slow and reverent but somehow filthy too.
My stomach flips. Everything inside me flashes awake.
His gaze drops lower, dragging down my body, lingering where the blanket is barely covering me. His eyes darken, jaw flexing like he remembers every place he touched last night. Like he wants to touch me there again.
We lie in silence, breathing together, my head tucked under his chin. He rubs lazy circles on my hip, and the slow, steady strokes make my breath catch. A pulse of heat stirs between my legs, surprising me with how quickly it comes back.
I’ve never woken up like this. I’ve never been held like this. Like I’m not just wanted but kept.
Eventually, he exhales and presses his forehead to mine. “We should get going, Ro. Long drive home.”
I nod, though I’d happily hide under these blankets with him forever.
