4

Nick

The sun was rising over the inn when I pulled in, and it didn't feel like the same place we'd escaped only nine hours earlier. Erin felt it, too. She'd been giving me sidelong glances the entire drive back here, always with her lips curled up in a sinful smile.

I hopped out of the SUV after killing the engine and ordering Erin to stay put. Watching her as I rounded the hood, I saw a testy glint in her eyes. She didn't like taking orders, but her anger was so fucking cute that I had to laugh.

Once I had her door open, I leaned in and pinned her hands to the seat. There was too much unchecked emotion pumping through me, and if those fingers caressed my neck, I'd be taking her here in the parking lot.

I'd married her on a lobster boat, but I was still trying to do some of this right.

"I want everything," I whispered. I pressed my face to the hollow of her neck, and when I scraped my teeth over the delicate skin there, her body jerked against my hold. "Come to my room, lovely. Let me have you."

Erin nodded as I kissed my way up from her neck to her mouth. "Umm," she murmured against my lips. "I think mine's closer."

I released her seatbelt but couldn't tear myself off her. Anything worth saying could be spoken straight to her skin. My hands, they had no greater purpose than touching her body. "Whatever you want, wife," I said.

That word was powerful. It was an aphrodisiac, the strongest known to man.

I scooped her up, her taut little backside in my palms and her legs around my waist. It would've been fine if she wasn't exactly as hot and soft and everywhere that I needed. I was kidding myself if I thought I'd get far in this position.

"Erin, darlin'," I started, groaning as I pressed her spine to the vehicle.

She raked her fingers through my hair as I rocked against her, and a mix of agony and relief that only left me wanting more speared through my body. "You're going to put me down now," she said, "and follow me inside like a normal boy, and not a strange one who likes carrying able-bodied women around like dolls."

I nodded, but didn't relinquish her. She'd be leaving me soon enough, and that was a fact never far from my mind.

"Nick," she said, her fingertips grazing my temples as they tangled in my hair. It was an affectionate warning, and after holding her tight against me for a few seconds, I set her on the ground.

She wobbled, and I laughed. I had to, even if it earned me an arched eyebrow and sharp glare. "Oh, darlin'," I said. "If you're unsteady now, you're not going to be able to walk tonight."

Her eyes stared off toward the shore. "I don't know what to say to that."

I kissed her slowly, wanting to bring back the woman who—only a few hours ago—opened her darkest closets and secret hiding places to me, and then dared me to marry her. She was in there. "You don't have to say anything," I murmured against her jaw. "Just lead the way."

"You should know that I don't take a lot of guys home with me," she warned. "Or…any guys."

I tucked some stray wisps of hair over her ears. It was an effective diversion because I was still really fucking furious about the way guys had mistreated her in the past. Vengeance wasn't my style, but I wanted to have some words with that goddamn pedophile English teacher. If her father were alive, he'd be on my list, too.

"I'm not a guy," I said, aiming for an even tone. "I'm your husband. Big difference."

"This isn't real," she protested.

"It's as real as we want it to be."

"Don't delude yourself," she chided. "We had a beer together and shared some confessions, and then we sorted lobsters and you faux-proposed to me. We don't have to pretend this is anything even close to real."

It hadn't taken long for me to see that Erin was a runner. She ran because she'd been hurt in the past, and she ran to keep herself from getting hurt again. Now she was hunkering down in the starting blocks, ready to take off all over again.

"I know we didn't get a chance to talk through the specifics, but let me tell you this," I said, tapping a fingertip to her chest. "You and me? We're very much real."

"You're just saying that," she murmured. "You're good at the getting-laid sweet-talk."

"I should spank you for suggesting I'd use a line on you," I said lightly.

"Try it and I'll castrate you," she said. "Really, though. There's a Swiss Army knife in my pocket that's just waiting to stab some sac."

I leaned back and met her eyes, nodding when I realized she was serious. She was a broken girl. Was. This woman was like roughly patched steel, rusty and thick with scars at the joints, but stronger for it.

And proficient in knife-wielding, apparently.

"Yeah, okay," I said. "Give me the rules, darlin'."

"It's nothing," she said, waving me away.

"It's something. I can't respect your limits if you don't define them for me." Erin folded her arms under her chest. I swallowed a groan because goddamn it, those tits were on a silver platter and she was having doubts and somehow—some-fucking-how—we were no closer to a bedroom. "Now you're taunting me," I said through a clenched jaw.

"Not intentional," she said, dropping her arms and reaching for me. "But no spanking, okay? None of that."

"That would've fit nicely in the vows, Skip," I said. "You know, the whole 'to have and to hold, until death—or spanking—do you part.'"

"We'll use that for our ten-year vow renewal, okay?"

"Fuck yes," I said. "But only if we can get that guy again. Bartlett. He's gotta be there."

"And the boat, too?" she asked. "Should we recreate the entire night?"

I scratched the back of my neck, considering. "If we can do it without the lobster sorting, yeah. I don't love the aroma of drying seaweed on me."

Erin nodded knowingly. "Yeah, I need to get these clothes off."

"Now we're talking," I cried. "Lead the way, wife."

Heading toward the inn's main entrance, she reached back and grabbed my hand, towing me along with her. It was different, watching her now. Maybe it was the perspective or the morning sunlight, or the way she had her shoulder-length hair tied in a messy tail. Maybe it was that we got married.

It was wild, and there was no arguing that, but it also wasn't.

I wanted to kiss every inch of her, every last inch. I wanted to know her thoughts, her journeys, her worries. I wanted to understand Erin Walsh, and that green green green told me it would take a lifetime.

"Umm," she said, and I tore my eyes off her ass to follow her line of sight until it landed on the newest "umm" of the hour.

I should've known I wasn't getting Erin in bed without getting through one of her brothers first. They came with a special brand of cockblocking radar, the sister edition.

Riley was seated on the inn's stone steps, his arms braced on his knees and his head hanging low. A bottle of Don Felipe Platinum tequila—a full bottle of the good shit—sat to his left. He looked as if he'd been wrestling with himself all night, his hair everywhere and his shirtsleeves wrenched up. His Sperrys were untied. None of that was terribly uncommon for Riley. He was the guy who always rolled into happy hour with a mustard stain on his tie. But here, all alone, he looked sad and conflicted.

"It's really fucking late," she said. "Or really fucking early. What're you doing out here, kid?"

He brought his palms to his eyes with a miserable groan before glaring at me.

"That's unacceptable. Make it stop," he said, pointing to my hand on Erin's hip. "Didn't think I had to teach you manners, Nick."

I shook my head at that. "All good here," I said.

"Oh, yeah. He's fine on the manners front," Erin said with a smirk. I gave her hip a meaningful squeeze. There were going to be zero manners when I got that girl naked. "I'm the offender here. I think you know I usually am."

She slipped her hand into my back pocket and pinched my ass. Fuck me, I'd met my match.

"Rogue, I really don't have the stomach for your catastrophes this weekend," he said, rubbing his eyes again. "Seriously. I can't do this with you. For one time in our lives, my problems are actually bigger than any stunt you can pull."

I tilted my head toward him as if that would turn down the accusation in his words, but nope, that didn't change it. I was still annoyed at the way he was speaking to my wife, like she was some bratty little girl who couldn't be trusted with anything. If I'd learned anything tonight, it was that these guys didn't know their sister at all.

"Seriously, no catastrophes, no stunts, nothing," she said, breaking away from me to nestle beside Riley on the steps. She offered me a small shrug, as if conceding that there might have been a stunt or two last night, but Riley didn't need those details right now. "What's your deal?"

His eyes drifted shut, and for a second, his chin quivered enough that I expected tears to fall next. "I've done everything in my power to stop it, E, I really have," he said, his head dropping to her shoulder. "I thought the dominatrix—"

"That was Josie? Or Mila?" Erin asked.

He nodded. "Mila. Josie's the yoga instructor from Tinder who wanted me to pee on her," he said, and we all winced at that. "So, I thought one of them would beat this out of my system, but it hasn't worked. I don't know what to do. I just know that I love her. She's the only one I want, the only one I think about, and I can't have her. I can't even tell her."

I met Erin's eyes, and she mouthed, "What the actual fuck is going on here?"

"I love Lauren," he continued, and we both struggled to contain our reactions to that one. "But Lauren loves Matt, and she's so happy. I don't want her to go through with it, but I don't want to ruin her wedding either."

"I'm sure you wouldn't ruin anything," I said. I reached a hand in his direction and helped him to his feet when he accepted it. "It's gonna be fine. You just need to sleep this off. You know, when we were kids and it was time for bed, my grandmother used to say we were going to Mrs. White's party. I haven't thought about that in years, and now that I say it, I'm not sure it translates cleanly. Regardless, you need to go to Mrs. White's party, dude."

Erin's closed fist was pressed against her mouth as she silently rocked with laughter. I shrugged like what did you want me to say?

"My grandmother, she was this little old Mexican lady who believed in magic and ghosts, and the chupacabra, and wacky shit like that, but she had a lot of wisdom, especially at the end. She claimed she was descended from a line of Mayan priestesses who'd conducted virgin sacrifices," I said. "She lived with us on the ranch, and listen, when she said it was time for Mrs. White's party, me and my sisters, we didn't fuck around. We got our asses into bed."

Riley was in his own world of misery and self-pity, and for his part, ignored everything I was saying. My wife, on the other hand, was slowly shaking her head as if she couldn't believe these things I said. Like it was a shtick we had, one where I was a walking non-sequitur and she was the honest-to-goodness woman who loved me.

Motherfuck. It was going to be hard letting her go. And come on. We all knew it was happening eventually. Wanderers of the world didn't spontaneously abandon doctoral programs at Oxford to warm my bed and bear my children.

"I know some cultural anthropologists who'd love to run down the threads of that story," she said. "Especially that ritual bloodletting bit. That's fun."

"Bring it on," I said, reaching for her hand and pulling her up.

"Right, so we're all going to bed," Erin said, patting Riley's shoulder. "Separately. We're all going to bed, but we're going to separate beds."

"Of course," I said. "Lots of different beds."

Riley looked us over as if we were speaking around him in code. Which we were.

"I mean it, Rogue. Swear. Promise you won't let me ruin the wedding," Riley said, his bottom lip snared between his teeth and his arms folded over his chest. "Promise you'll punch me in the balls if I try to object because I can't hurt her like that."

Erin leaned over and collected the tequila from the steps. Her eyebrow lifted at the unbroken seal. Another thing we couldn't blame on alcohol right now.

"Happily," she replied. "Now where's your room, kid? Listen to the good doctor's bizarre stories. Sleep makes everything better."

He groaned. "I don't think I have one."

She gave him a hard shove, and it almost sent him stumbling to the ground. That was how bad this situation was: my little lovely could take down all two-hundred-odd pounds and six-and-a-half feet of Riley with one hand.

"How do you not have a room?" she asked. "Batman always has a room."

"That's because Alfred makes his reservations," he murmured. "This Batman fucked up. That, and Shannon said I was supposed to be responsible for myself this weekend, and I forgot to do that. I have no Alfred. I have nothing, nothing at all."

"Shit happens, kid," she said. "We're not going to worry about any of it right now, we're just going to find you a place to crash." Erin glanced at me, her wide eyes asking what we were supposed to do now.

"Head over to my cottage," I said, digging through my wallet to find the keycard. I held it out to him, gesturing toward the beach, where a string of tiny, traditional gray Cape Cod homes stood near the dunes. The entire block of cottages was reserved for the wedding. "It's the one between Shannon and Sam."

Riley's bloodshot eyes swiveled between me and Erin. "This is still unacceptable," he said, snapping up the key. "But I didn't see anything and I'm not saying anything. Just don't let me stop the wedding."

He shuffled down the path toward the cottages, his shoulders slumped. My hand slipped under Erin's t-shirt to touch the small of her back. Jesus. She was soft, like a dollop of whipped cream, and that was just her back.

"Your room," I said, skimming the waist of her jeans. "Get me there now."

"In a rush?" she asked. There was a playful twinkle that popped into her eyes sometimes. It was sexy and adorable, and totally devious. I was hooked on that twinkle.

The interior of the inn was quiet, and I was careful to keep my voice low. The last thing we needed was to draw attention to ourselves and run into another Walsh. It was a matter of time until preparations for this evening's event got underway, and we were not getting conscripted into any of that. We were staying far out of sight, out of mind. "Only to get you behind closed doors and naked," I said.

She held up the bottle of Don Felipe when we reached her door. "Didn't think Riley needed to take this with him," she said. "Wait, am I reading the situation right? Is he saying he's in love with…Lauren? Lauren, Matt's fiancée?"

"That was my interpretation, yeah," I said, gesturing toward the door. "But I'm not interested in Riley right now."

"That's strange, since he's given us a lot of material this morning." She tapped her keycard against her chin. "I want to process this."

I shook my head slowly, drawing my knuckles down, over my jaw. The scruff scraped against my skin, yielding a rough, raspy sound. "And I want to lick that tequila off your tits, wife."

Snatching the keycard from her fingers, I slipped it into the reader and waited for the whirl-whoosh that would grant us some long-overdue privacy. I scooped her up, carry-the-bride-over-the-threshold-style, and kicked the door shut behind us.

My shoes were off, one abandoned right behind another, and three striding steps had us at the foot of the bed. I knew this wasn't a standard-issue marriage, and I knew she would leave and the spell she'd cast on me would go with her, but I smiled down at the woman in my arms. For this weekend, she was mine.

"Can I process while you lick?" she asked.

Her lips were on my neck, and that light pressure triggered a shiver down my spine. It was a hypothalamic response, a reaction tied to emotion and physiological arousal, but I couldn't tell which one was greater. I was feeling a whole hell of a lot, but I was also hotter than the sun for this woman.

"You know," I started, squeezing the back of her thigh, "I'm trying to have a moment here. We only get one wedding night, err—morning. I want to savor this. Then I'm gonna savor you, wife."

"You're a special one, husband," she said, and her words were followed by the fine trail of her tongue up my neck.

"Okay, all right," I muttered, setting her down. I plucked the tequila from her hands, and tossed it to the bed. "Go ahead and process. Let's see how long it takes me to turn your attention."

"Do you really think Riley's been hung up on Lauren all this time? I didn't think his attention span was that long, and I say that with love. He's a good kid—a good kid who dates a diverse cadre of women—just a bit flighty. How long has it been? Matt's been with Lauren since September," she said. I tugged her sweater down her arms, tossed it somewhere. "I remember because I was in the Azores, and then back in mainland Portugal, and I was recovering from my first hangover in years—"

I yanked my shirt over my head, unbuckled my belt and left my jeans hanging open.

"Oh, I married well," she murmured, flattening her palm on my abs. "And you have the Hot Guy One-Handed Shirt Removal thing down hard."

I dragged her hand lower. I'd show her hard. "That wasn't even thirty seconds, Skip."

Her fingers slipped into my boxers, and she dropped her head to my chest as she circled me. She stroked me all the way down and back again, and her breath hitched as I growled into her hair.

"I guess it's true what they say about Texas," she murmured. She looked up at me with those eyes, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. "Everything is bigger."

As far as my cock was concerned, Erin Walsh was the perfect woman and I'd chosen quite wisely last night. Choking on a laugh, I pressed my lips to her forehead. "I want this off," I said, my fingers edging up her t-shirt. "Yeah?"

Erin nodded, lifting her arms as I tugged her shirt up. It was off and flying, and there she was, creamy skin, simple black bra, silver necklace with a compass pendant hanging between her breasts, black diamond at her throat. There were flashes of ink, but those could wait. I'd explore them later.

"And this?" I asked, drawing my finger over the soft skin below her belly button. My thumb traced the button on her jeans, loosening it as she blew out a stilted breath.

"Yeah—but—fuck," she stammered, curling her hand around my wrist. "There are some scars. On my legs. I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

I nodded, and returned her hand to my boxers. "Whatever you want, darlin'. Whatever you want," I repeated. With her button fly popped, I shoved her jeans down. She stepped out of them, and I jerked my chin toward the headboard. "Lie back. Right there."

She stroked me for several glorious moments, and I was growling all over again. That was how she made me feel, like a snarling beast that wouldn't tolerate being caged. It'd never been like this before. I'd wanted women, sure, and even craved a few of them. But I'd never experienced this full-body wave of primal need.

My hand tangled in her hair, and when my lips found hers, I poured that beastly hunger into her. "Get up there, wife," I said, dragging her hand from my cock. "No more teasing."

I gave her a little shove, and she fell to the mattress. She aimed a meaningful glance at my jeans, and that was all the encouragement I needed to drop them to the ground. She crawled backward, and I followed her, stalking her every movement until we were flat against a bank of pillows.

"Hi," she said, running her hand up my flank and over my shoulder. She hooked her leg around my waist and pulled me flush against her. My cock was acutely aware that only my boxers and her panties separated us, and was alternately thrilled with that situation and impatient as hell. She smiled, a little shy. "I like the way you touch me."

"That's good because I really enjoy touching you," I said, bringing my lips to her neck and trailing them down between her breasts. "I didn't want to let you go when I met you last night. Wanted to keep you all to myself."

"Oh," she said, her eyebrow quirking as if this was an odd sentiment. "I don't think anyone's ever wanted to keep me before."

Fuck, she was too much. Just too much. Beautiful and rough around every edge yet vulnerable and secretly sensitive.

"I want to keep you," I said, sliding my fingers behind her back to unclasp her bra. "I'll keep you as long as you let me, lovely." Her arms went to her chest the minute her bra was sailing over my shoulder. "And I want to see you, too."

A groan was rumbling past my lips the second her arms went around my neck and she was bared to me. I thought her tits were a crime in that t-shirt, but I had no idea. They were full and pale, and delicious. I licked and sucked as if I was trying to consume her.

"Say something," she whispered, her fingers raking through my hair. "I want…I want to know what you're thinking."

I released her nipple with a satisfied groan, and then dropped kisses on each of her breasts before meeting her eyes. "I'm thinking get me inside you right now."

Our lips met as my fingers inched her panties over her hips. I could take her just like this, face-to-face while I tasted her hungry hums, and I'd want for nothing.

"You probably thought I'd be crazy in bed," she said, her words muffled as she spoke against my neck. "Like, I don't know, adventurous and kinky. Like I keep nipple clamps in my back pocket and actually prefer wearing thongs, and I'm always down for anal. And it's my fault, really. This whole night has been pretty wild, and I kissed you like a maniac and then everything on the boat, and it wouldn't be wrong to think that tequila on my tits is an average Saturday morning but—"

"It only matters what you want," I said, tipping up her chin to find her eyes. "Don't worry about what I think, or what you think I'm thinking. Tell me what you think."

Erin's fingers clawed at my boxers, and together we got them over my hips and out of the way. Her panties were long gone and my cock was in love with the wet heat between her legs.

"Please don't make it hurt," she whispered.

I shook my head and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Never."

I kissed down her belly and settled between her legs. I left a trail from hipbone to hipbone, and then down, over her mound.

"Stop," she said, sitting up when I turned my attention to her inner thighs.

The scars—there were more than some. Her skin was marked with one thin line after another. Dozens on each leg. They stopped a couple inches above her knees. It was like a rumble strip, the kind you found on the side of the highway to awaken sleepy drivers. The only bright side was that none of them were fresh.

"I've got you." Erin's breaths were rushing out in shallow heaves, her eyes panicked as if me seeing those scars would change something, even after everything we'd shared. "I've got you. Stay there. Watch."

My hands moved from her thighs to her ass, bringing her sweetness to my face. I thought about teasing her for a few minutes, letting her need build until she couldn't imagine a single reason to push me away, but then my tongue met her clit and I couldn't tease her if I tried. If there was anything to be learned from recent history it was that I wanted Erin too much to give her anything but exactly what she needed.

"Ohhh," she purred, her arms giving out and her torso dropping back to the bed as I traced her there. She released a sigh that rang with relief, but then layered her hands over her face, hiding from me.

"You're not watching," I said, gazing up the smooth expanse of her belly. Her lips were parted and her back was arching off the bed.

"Can't, too much," she said, her words breaking into a cry.

I flattened my tongue against her clit and sucked. Her legs were shaking around me, her fingers twisted around my hair, and there was a roar climbing up my throat as I watched her shatter. She wasn't loud, and she didn't thrash about, but that didn't make her orgasm any less seismic. Every inch of her was vibrating and flushed with a rosy glow.

I felt like a fucking conqueror.

"Shit, I'm sorry," she panted. "I didn't mean for that to happen."

"Why are you apologizing to me?" I asked, confused.

Uncertain seconds ticked by while I mentally walked through everything that had happened since hitting the bed. I didn't know where I'd gone wrong, and I couldn't take her hiding from me anymore. I needed to see her. I crawled up her body and pried her arms off her face.

"What's wrong?"

"That was like," she started, her eyes swiveling from side to side, "thirty seconds."

I dropped my weight between her legs. "Yeah, I'm pretty fucking pleased with myself, actually," I said, relieved. "Me and your clit? We're gonna be good friends. Best friends. I'm thinking we need those broken heart necklaces."

She turned her face to the pillow and said, "My body, it doesn't always know how it should react."

"Your body reacted like a champ, darlin'," I said. "You're perfect. So perfect that I'm kinda dying over here. There's a real possibility that I'm coming on your leg in the next minute. The only thing you're allowed to apologize for is waiting this long to marry me."

"I waited less than a day," she replied.

I shrugged as if she was making my point for me. "Exactly. It should've been 'Hi, I'm Erin, your future wife and owner of the clit to which you'll pray.'"

She burst out laughing beneath me. "You're insane," she said.

"You're insane," I retorted, tickling her sides. "You're the one apologizing because I proved that I'm the only one worthy of possessing your body."

"This isn't The Sword in the Stone," she said.

"I don't know, lovely," I said, rolling my hips against her. "I've got a sword right here for you."

"Condom," she said through a bark of laughter. "Get a condom."

Goddamn it. Goddamn it.

"Yeah, of course," I stammered, darting off the bed to find my jeans.

I tore through my wallet, but I hadn't kept protection in there since college, back when it was fashionable to show off one's sexual prowess by tucking a supersized rubber behind a student ID. It wasn't that I didn't believe in safe sex. Of course I did. But I was a man in my mid-thirties. I didn't have sex outside my apartment. Or hers, and that was all on the rare occasion that I found myself in the company of a willing woman. And I didn't even know the last time that'd happened.

Erin rolled to her belly and propped her chin on her hands, watching while I shuffled through every item in my wallet and came up empty.

Goddamn fucking condoms.

"Check the minibar," she said, nodding toward the cabinet tucked into the television console. "Or call the front desk. I'm sure they'd rustle some up for us."

Everything came out of the minibar. Tiny bottles of liquor and wine, chocolates and nuts, sunscreen and popcorn.

"Let's just drink the tequila," Erin said from behind me, "and then we can get really irresponsible. I'll beg you to let me suck your cock like a lollipop, and you'll convince me that you can pull out."

It was a wonder I didn't come right then.

"Bring me that mouth," I said, beckoning her to me.

She smiled, and pointed to the minibar I'd decimated. "Look again, dude. Top shelf."

Sure enough, I bent at the waist and found myself staring at a single box of condoms. "I must start going to church again. I need to thank the Lord for your tits and minibar condoms," I said while I shredded the thin packaging, suited up, and chucked the two spares to Erin. "Don't lose those, wife."

She made a show of carefully placing them in the bedside drawer, right next to the Bible. She was nestled into the pillows again, her legs stretched out in front of her and her arms covering her breasts, and those eyes shy like she didn't want to admit how much she wanted me right now. Like she could hide it.

I crawled to her, wild and hungry. I wasn't hiding it.

"Is this okay?" I asked, settling between her legs. I had one hand curled around her waist, the other flat on her back. My hips were rolling, my cock sliding over her slick skin.

"Yeah," she said. She nodded, her eyes wide as if she was surprised by this. "It's okay, it's good."

But I wasn't convinced, and I was willing to wait for a less tenuous response. I was getting this part right if it killed me.

"Where's that tequila?" I asked, looking around. It was marooned against a pillow on the other side of the bed, and I reached for it. The bulbous cork popped free, and I tossed it over my shoulder. "What do you say, lovely?"

Erin's teeth sank into her bottom lip as she hummed in agreement. I started to pour, a little at first, not wanting to douse the entire bed in alcohol. But goose bumps broke out over her chest, and her nipples were dark, shiny rubies demanding my attention, and then I poured a lot. Her shoulders shot up as a shiver moved through her body when the cool liquid splashed down her torso and pooled in her belly button.

"Now who's going to clean that up?" she asked, her lips pushed out in a small pout.

Kneeling between my wife's legs with my cock standing at high alert and a bottle of tequila dangling between my fingers, I knew this was right. This was real. Nothing else mattered, not her scars, not her brothers, not the distance between my life and hers, not the hours we'd known each other. Nothing but the moment when all of her vulnerabilities faded and the woman I knew on some raw, instinctual level was revealed.

I leaned down, bowing to her, and sipped tequila from her skin. I followed the paths the sticky liquid had traveled, licking her belly and breasts as I throbbed against her core. My tongue rolled over her nipple until her fingers found my hair and she arched back, moaning. I leaned up and kissed her, swallowing her sighs.

There was no multitasking this morning, no smooth moves. I was focused on searing these moments into memory because this was our last first time.

"I'm ready now," she whispered, wrapping her legs around my waist. "I need you."

I hummed against Erin's lips, my eyes closed and my forehead touching hers. Angling my hips, I thrust inside her and a flash of unbelievable pleasure shot up my spine. She was hot and tight and all the wonderful things that went along with good sex, but she was also mine and that changed everything.

"Oh, fuck, you're enormous," she panted out, her lips twisting in a grimace and her eyes squeezed shut.

"Are you okay? Do you need me to stop?" I asked, slowing my movements. I planted my hands on either side of her head and stared down at her. "Or are you trying to get me harder? You've succeeded, by the way."

"Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop," she whispered.

"Thank God," I said as she pulsed around me.

I pressed my lips to her neck and shoulders, licking and sucking while she gripped my hair and mumbled quiet words. There was a series of "Oh, oh, oh" and then "Please, and—oh fuck, fuck" and "Where did…how…Nick, oh yes…" while I stroked harder.

I hooked my arm under her leg, and that small adjustment had her eyes popping open. "You're the best husband in the world," she said. "I can't even believe that you're mine. That you're for me."

This woman, she always knew exactly what I needed to hear.

There were no more words, just the bedsprings, the slap of skin, and gasps and murmurs. We came within seconds of each other, one rough cry after another. Neither of us moved, instead panting and kissing and touching like we were teaching our bodies how to remember. She was probably sore and smothered under my weight, and I had to ditch this condom but none of that was urgent enough to tear us apart.

Erin yawned and I dropped a peck on the corner of her mouth. "Tired?" I asked.

She nodded, smiling up at me. "Stay with me," she said. "Stay right here."

Her hands were on my body, clutching me as if she was trying to tear off a pound of flesh to keep as her own and I wanted to give her that. Anything, I'd give it to her, and I didn't even try to understand that urge.