The door closes behind us and the air in the room shifts.

It was so normal when we walked in here. A hotel room like any other hotel room. But one little snick of the lock and the weight of it presses against me, laps against my skin like currents in deep water.

Sia drops her bags onto the floor and turns to face me.

She feels it too. She must. She blushes and looks down, and that’s all it takes to snap me out of waiting.

I take her chin in my hand and tilt her face toward mine—her gorgeous, blushing, beautiful face—and she’s mine. She’s mine, now, whatever comes next. “Wife.” My own voice is gravelly with the possession of her. Never in a thousand years did I think it would happen this way, but now that it has...

“Husband.” Sia’s voice is soft and aching. Jesus, the whole of her must be aching, the way I’m aching. She got to come last night, but there’s a tension in the arch of her back that tells me she needs more. And that she’s scared of it, too.

“Don’t be afraid,” I whisper, trailing my fingers along her spine. She curls against me like a cat, pressing in hard, and when she offers her lips to me to claim I don’t hesitate.

The kiss turns Sia wild, her hips rocking against mine.

I lift her in my arms and take her to bed.

I saw her last night, naked and spread open for me on another hotel bed, but this time is different. This time, I don’t bother to close the curtains. This time, I let the dawning light caress her skin in every place I caress her with my fingers, and my god, my god, I almost ended this. I will live the rest of my life knowing that I almost denied myself the creamy flat of her stomach, the desperate curve of her hips, and the pink softness between her legs.

Her dress pools beside the bed.

She’s not wearing any panties.

The bra follows the dress, forgotten in an instant.

Sia opens herself for me, golden hair spread over the white coverlet, and every kiss I press against her skin is half-apology, half-worship.

“God, Gio,” she gasps when I lick down the length of her collarbone.

By the time I stroke my tongue between her legs, she’s lost for words.

I lick her with the flat of my tongue, tasting as much sweetness as I can, and delve in again, press in with the tip. It draws out the loveliest sounds from her mouth. Her hips buck under my hands, so insistent that I have to pin her down.

“Be a good girl,” I growl into her folds, then lick there again. “Let me have you.”

Her body stills, her hands gripping the coverlet, but her body still trembles beneath my tongue. Jesus, she’s sweet. Jesus, she’s wet.

“Gio.” My name wrestles from behind gritted teeth. “Gio, I can’t wait any longer.”

My cock has been straining against my pants since the moment we walked into the room, and now it jerks and jumps, leaking from the tip.

I step away from the bed and strip off my clothes.

Sia watches, eyes wide with anticipation, and when my boxers drop to the floor her mouth falls open. “Whoa.” Her blue eyes glitter, and I catch that little flinch when the length of me is on display.

“Don’t worry, sweet thing.” I crawl onto the bed over her. “It’ll be fun.”

Sia buries her face into my shoulder, and even in the unbearable sweetness of that moment I feel her spreading her legs beneath me, arching her hips up toward me. She’s so pretty this way, torn between hunger and fear. No, not fear—that buzzing anxiousness of being one step away from the future.

It undoes me.

I want to take it slow with her. I want to give her all the time she needs to adjust to the size of me. But her body beneath mine is calling so loudly that I can’t resist. The air shifts again, animal and crackling. “I need you.” It’s my own admission, but it’s all around us, too.

Sia holds her breath.

I force myself to hold back, to pay attention. “Don’t do that. Breathe.” She exhales, and I dip my fingers between her legs, stroking the wet folds there.

“More,” she breathes against the side of my neck.

I work one finger inside.

She’s tight as fuck.

My cock pulses at the squeeze around my finger.

I add another.

Sia moans, the thrum of her voice making its way down to her pussy, which clenches over my fingers like she never wants to let me go. It shatters the last of my reserve, the last of my self-control. I have to have her.

She whimpers when I take my fingers away, my blood singing with the nearness of her, with the scent of her in the air, so far past anything my teenage self could have imagined. I crawl over her and she slips her hands around my neck. She is hanging on for dear life. I can feel it in every movement, every tremble.

I position the head of my cock against her slick, hot opening, so swollen, so tight, so ready for me, and I hold my breath.

Sia’s eyes are so blue.

Her face is the picture of trust, her tounge darting out to wet her bottom lip. She breathes fast against me, hard nipples grazing my chest, and I am struck with the significance of this moment. This isn’t just fucking. This isn’t preparing to fuck, to discard, already moving on in my mind to the next woman.

This is consummation.

Taking her like this is more of a vow than the ones we spoke in the church this morning. Every bone in my body thrums with it, the heavy, golden, timeless meaning. I want to savor it for another heartbeat, then another.

Sia doesn’t.

“Please, Gio,” she begs. “Please.”