Every surface. Every wall. Every inch of this place has a memory of us soaked into it now. The bed, obviously. The shower—we started there. The couch, where she rode the fuck out of me.The floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city? Yeah, I dropped to my knees right there and ate her pussy with one of her legs thrown over my shoulder. Even the kitchen counter, because apparently that’s our thing now.
I laughed all night with my wife.
I watched my wife drink champagne straight off my body.
I danced with my wife while she was barefoot and wearing nothing but my shirt, with the New York skyline lit up behind us.
And I fucked my wife until she could barely remember her own name—let alone her new last name.
The whole time I was inside her, I whispered every vow I made earlier that day, again and again, against her mouth, her throat, down her chest, and lower when I had her legs spread and my face buried between them.
I will love you in this life and the next.
I will find you in every universe.
Forever and hereafter.
My wife.
My fucking wife.
I fell asleep still inside her, then woke up separated—which was unacceptable—and immediately corrected that mistake. I slid right back in, needing the first thing she feels when she wakes up to be me.
Her leg is hitched over my hip, her body warm and soft against mine, and I’m just… staring.
She’s so beautiful.
When we got married yesterday, I don’t really remember Lucien, Cain, or Lianna being there. I know they were—they’re in the pictures Cain took on his phone—but when I looked at Shannen, when she said my name and promised herself to me, the world narrowed to just her.
I have no idea how much time passes before those gold eyes flutter open and land on me.
“Morning,” I whisper.
“Good morning.”
She stretches, tightening around me, her warm little cunt clenching me just right, and I groan, laughing under my breath like a man who’s completely and shamelessly ruined for life.
“We’re married, Phoenix,” she says, her voice still heavy with sleep, wearing the most adorable smile I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Mmm…wife.”
She’s going to get so sick of hearing me say that.
“Say it back,” I murmur against her lips.
“Husband.”
Perfect.
We lie there, staring at each other, and in her eyes, I see the next fifty years laid out before us. I see everything I’m going to do for her—the life I’m going to build with my bare hands, the kids I’m going to give her, made from us. The home I’m going to make so safe that she’ll never flinch when a door slams, never tense when footsteps approach, and never doubt for a second that she’s protected. I’ll put my last name on a mailbox and her first name on everything else.
We’ll erase every moment of absence, every year we lost, with a life so full of love and obsession, she’ll never question whether she made the right choice when she let a man like me put a ring on her finger.
And when I’m old, when my hands shake, and my back’s too fucked to carry her, when time tries to strip me of being everything she needs, I’ll still find a way to take her to the stars.
Forever and hereafter.
Just like I promised.
