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A moment later, “We Belong Together” by Ritchie Valens began playing through the speakers.

I turned toward him. Richard smiled to himself and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel with the music.

“I love this one,” he said.

I smiled, but something about it unsettled me. It was supposed to be romantic, two people destined to stay together forever, yet hearing it now made my skin prickle. Maybe it was everything that had happened over the past few weeks. The lyrics wrapped around the silence between us until they felt less like a love song and more like a promise I couldn’t explain. Richard reached across the center console and took my hand, bringing it to his mouth before pressing a kiss against my knuckles.

“Ready for our honeymoon, Mrs. Kincaid?” he asked, his voice laced with satisfaction.

I nodded and smiled softly and squeezed his hand back.

By the time we reached the hotel, the afternoon had faded into evening. Richard pulled the Jaguar beneath the covered entrance of a historic hotel downtown, and a valet opened my door before I could reach for the handle. Richard met me on the other side, took my hand, and led me inside.

The lobby was quiet. Chandeliers hung above the marble floor, and dark wood covered the walls. We crossed to an elevator near the back, where Richard used a key card to access the top floor.

The elevator took us directly to a private hallway. Richard unlocked the double doors to the presidential suite, then bent and lifted me into his arms. He carried me across the threshold. I laughed as he kicked the door shut behind us and set me back on my feet.

The suite was larger than my condo. A dark velvet sofa faced the windows overlooking the city, and a grand piano sat near the far wall. Someone had placed white roses throughout the room. A bottle of champagne waited in a silver bucket with two glasses beside it.

Through the open bedroom door, I could see a large bed covered in white linens. The bathroom beyond it had a soaking tub surrounded by cream marble. Everything had already been arranged before we arrived. Richard had planned every detail.

Richard locked the suite door. He turned back to me and looked at the dress the same way he had at city hall.

“Turn around.”

I turned. His fingers found the zipper and drew it down the length of my spine. The silk loosened and slid from my shoulders. I had worn nothing under the dress except a pair of white lace panties. The air of the suite touched my bare breasts as the fabric fell. I stepped out of the dress and stood in front of him naked. His eyes moved over me with a heat that made my skin flush.

I reached for his jacket and slipped it from his shoulders. He watched me as I began unbuttoning his shirt, and my fingers fumbled when I noticed the small smile on his face. Heat rushed into my cheeks, but I kept going. I wanted to touch the man who had carried me through the worst weeks of my life and made me feel safe when nothing else could. I loved the shape of his chest, the firmness of his abs, and how easily his arms could lift me. Still, standing in front of him on our honeymoon made me nervous in a way I didn’t expect. He was my husband now.

Once his shirt was undone, I pushed it from his shoulders and rested my palms against his bare chest. His skin felt warm beneath them. I traced the muscle slowly, smiling when his breathing changed.

For weeks, I had reached for him whenever the grief became too much. Tonight, I wanted to touch him without falling apart. I wanted to make him feel wanted. I wanted to be his wife without death and fear crowding into the room with us.

I unbuckled his belt and opened his pants. He stepped out of them and his underwear with the same unhurried control he brought to everything. His cock was already hard, thick and flushed, rising against his stomach. I wrapped my hand around him and stroked from base to tip. He let out a breath and caught my wrist.

I had never given a blow job before. It was our honeymoon, and he had done so much for me. I only knew I wanted to please him. I wanted to give him even a fraction of the pleasure he always gave me.

He guided me onto the bed and sat first, then pulled me down so I straddled his chest. His hands slid under the lace of my panties and eased them down my thighs. When they were gone he drew me higher, settling my knees on either side of his head.

Before he could pull me down onto his mouth, I turned my body.

I swung one leg over and twisted until I was facing the opposite direction, stretching out above him so that my face hovered over the hard length of his cock while my knees stayed planted beside his head. His hands stilled on my hips. A low, surprised sound escaped him and his breath hitched against my skin.

“Sam…” he murmured, voice rough with disbelief.

I didn’t give him time to question it. I lowered my head and licked slowly from the base of his cock to the head, tasting the salt of his skin for the first time. He groaned louder this time, the sound vibrating straight through my core. Then his mouth closed over me. His tongue parted my folds and dragged upward in one long, deliberate stroke, ending with a firm circle around my clit.

I gasped around him. The dual sensation nearly undid me. I took the head of his cock between my lips and sucked gently, I wasn’t sure how to do this but I was determined to make it good. He answered by sealing his mouth over my clit and sucking in slow, rhythmic pulls while two fingers slid inside me and curled.

I moaned around his shaft, the sound muffled and needy. The vibration made his hips twitch. I took him deeper, sliding my tongue along the underside as I bobbed my head the way I thought he might like. He rewarded me by licking faster, fingers stroking that swollen place inside me that made my thighs tremble against his ears.

We moved together in a heated rhythm. Every time I took him farther, he sucked harder. Every time my hips rolled against his mouth, he thrust gently up into mine. I could feel how wet I was for him, how my body clenched around his fingers, how close I already was.

My orgasm hit hard. I cried out around his cock, hips grinding down onto his mouth as my walls fluttered and squeezed his fingers. He licked me through every pulse, until the pleasure bordered on too much. He eased off, pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs while I trembled above him.

I kept my mouth on him, tasting the fresh bead of pre-cum that had gathered at the tip. He groaned and gently guided my hips up so I could lift off his face. I turned and crawled up his body until I could kiss him, sharing the taste of myself on his tongue. He rolled us in one smooth motion until he was on top of me, settling between my thighs.

“I love you,” he said. “I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. I can’t believe you’re my wife now. You’re mine.”