“My wife,” he whispers, kissing me hard. “Mine.”
The word sends me straight over the edge again.
He feels it, the way I clench around him, and curses, slamming his mouth to mine as he thrusts through it, chasing his release.
When he finally groans my name into my neck and falls apart inside me, it’s almost enough to drag me under with him.
We stay under the water until we’re both shaking from more than the temperature. Then we shower—again—pack, check out, and hit the road.
I learn very quickly that Grant doesn’t know how not to touch me.
He holds my hand. Kisses my palm. Runs his fingers over the inside of my wrist like he owns my pulse. At stoplights, he leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth, soft and possessive.
By the time we reach base housing, my whole body is humming.
He parks, gets out, opens my door, and lifts me like I weigh nothing.
“Grant!” I cling to him. “You can’t keep carrying me everywhere.”
“Watch me.”
He carries me up the steps and straight through the front door, kicking it shut behind him. The moment we cross the threshold, he kisses me. Slow, deep heat curls through my whole body.
Boxes are everywhere, but he ignores them, sliding his arms around my waist from behind as he kisses my neck.
“You’re not touching a single one of those,” he says against my ear. “I’ve got you.”
“But—”
“I mean it.” His lips skim down to my shoulder. “Tonight, there’s only one thing I’m doing.”
My face heats. “What’s that?”
He lifts me again—this man and his lifting—and carries me straight down the hall.
“Hush,” he murmurs. “Let me be selfish with my wife.”
He lays me on the bed like something breakable, then climbs over me, bracing on his forearms. His eyes sweep my face, dark and hungry.
Then he kisses me.
Slow at first. Deep. Intent. But it ignites fast. His hands explore every inch of me, relearning what he touched in the shower, what made me gasp, what made my thighs shake.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he growls against my throat.
He kisses down my neck, my chest, lower—so much lower—taking his time. Worshipping. Teasing. Testing exactly how far he can push me before I beg.
He pushes me over the edge with his mouth, murmuring praise against my skin as I fall apart under him.
When he finally slides into me again, my whole body arches. He moves slowly—so slowly at first that I nearly cry—like he wants to feel every second of being inside me.
“Oh, God,” I whisper, grabbing his shoulders.
His forehead drops to mine. “Say my name.”
“Grant…”
A sound rips from his chest—raw and hungry—and he thrusts deeper, kissing me like he’s claiming every piece of me.
