“You’re crazy,” she laughs, and I swear I want to bottle the sound. I love hearing her happy.
She manages to get the door unlocked and I shuffle us inside. Kicking the door closed, I set her on her feet and then step forward until her back hits the door. My hands caress her cheeks, and her eyes lock on mine.
“We did it.” Her words are soft.
“We did,” I confirm as I brush a loose tendril of hair behind her ear.
“We’re married.”
“You’re my wife,” I say, needing to hear the words, needing to repeat them so I can verify this isn’t a dream. She’s opens her mouth to speak, but my lips mold to hers, cutting her off. I can’t wait any longer. I need to kiss her like I need to breathe.
Her hands find their way around my neck, pulling me close. Mine, which were cupping her face, are now on a mission to roam every single fucking inch of her body. Her bare shoulders are soft against the skin of my rough hands as I trace circles on the delicate skin of her back until my hand reaches her dress. Her wedding dress, which I wanted to memorize her wearing just hours ago, is now in my way. I want to remember what it looks like lying on the floor of this hotel room. My mind is working overtime to remember every fucking second of this day. I never want to forget.
“Need you out of this dress, baby,” I say in between kisses. I don’t give her time to answer before my lips are back on hers. I find the zipper and gently pull until I reach the stopping point. Stepping back, I give her my hand. “Step out.” She does, and I lift her dress, tossing it across the room, then turn my attention back to McKinley.
Un-fucking-believable.
Standing before me is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. Her tan skin is a contrast to the barely there white thong. That’s it. That’s all she’s wearing. If I had known . . . let’s just say our little “reception” would have been a hell of a lot shorter.
“Fuck,” falls from my
lips.
“Surprise.” She smiles. “I couldn’t get the bra to work, so I just went without,” She shrugs.
I can’t take my eyes off her—the way her hair falls over her bare shoulder, the swell of her breasts as her tight nipples point toward me, begging for my attention. Then there’s the thong, if you can call it that. It’s a thin scrap of white material that leaves nothing to the imagination. That’s the thing about white clothing, when it’s wet you can see through it.
I can see all of her.
My eyes travel over every delectable inch. When I reach her red, swollen lips, I step forward and kiss her, my tongue gliding past her lips. Her hands tighten in my hair and I’m suddenly not close enough. My hands find her ass, gripping tight as I lift her. Her legs wrap around my waist and my cock settles against her wet, barely there thong. I’m still fully clothed, but I can feel her heat. I want inside of her so damn bad.
“Evan,” she mumbles against my lips.
Tearing my lips from our kiss, I rest my forehead against hers. “Yeah, babe?”
“Can we . . . ?” She stops. That’s not going to work for me.
“Can we what?” My eyes are closed as I focus on the sound of her rapid breaths in sync with my own.
“It’s just . . .” She stops again.
Lifting my head, I see her eyes are also closed. “McKinley, look at me.” She shakes her head no. “Please?” I kiss the tip of her nose. Her eyes flutter open. “Tell me,” I say softly.
“We’re married now, so it’s not wrong,” she blurts out.
“What’s not wrong, babe?” I watch as she bites her bottom lip. “McKinley, you can ask me anything,” I say gently. I mean every fucking word. No matter what it is, I would try like hell to give it to her.
“Will you make love to me?”
Her voice is soft, like she’s afraid I’m going to say no. Does she not realize what she does to me? “Is that what you want?” My heart tells me I need to make sure she really wants this. My cock is screaming to be unleashed.
“I want you.” Her voice is no longer soft. Her words are strong as her eyes bore into mine. “You said you wanted this to be real, the time we’re together.”
“I did say that and I do. You’re my wife,” I say it again because I’m fucking excited as hell to call her that. Regardless of the how and why, she’s McKinley Chamberlin.
With her hands still in my hair, she tugs me close, her lips a breath from mine. “Make love to me, Mr. Chamberlin.”
“With pleasure, Mrs. Chamberlin,” I say, pressing my lips against hers.