I think the last thing I'll always remember before I blacked out is the smell.

Not the demon screams. Not the panicked weight of Trent's awesome arms around me. Not him dragging both of us to safety, then rushing back through the rain, toward the sputtering flames, ripping his shirt off and trying so, so hard to beat the flames lashing my brother's body.

Not even the rapid-fire chaos that came later: the flashing sirens, the platoons of firefighters, medics, and police. Not dad's contorted face at the hospital, the same place the ambulance leads us, where my mother is supposed to be recovering in a room upstairs. Not the way his knees crunch when he hits the floor, followed by his fist, followed by his curses.

Not the flurry of nurses and doctors battering us with questions through a long, sleepless night. Or Trent's gentle giant weight against me, comforting as the morning sun that's still MIA behind the clouds come rainy morning, the entire reason I'm somehow still sane. Or sane enough.

I think I'll remember the smell because the stink of gasoline has a mysterious way of drowning everything else out, even the horrible stench of burning flesh, wood and plants and glass on fire.

But there's another smell I'll remember, too, behind the hideous odors erupting from a home I'll never look at the same way again: Trent's scent.

I breathed the fear steaming from his pores. I also breathed his strength. I breathed his hurt, his hope, his prayers. And he prayed hard – harder than anybody ever has – for me.

For us.

Even for my fucked up brother.

That rich, deep, earthy masculine scent drifting off him in waves grounded me. Kept me from screaming my throat completely raw.

If I just pressed my face to him and breathed his love – and I did more times than I could count – I knew it'd be all right. Somehow, this wouldn't be the end.

The night would never close in.

Not while I had this man holding my world together, preventing it from scattering to the wind like blackened leaves.

* * *

“It's funny, Presh. First time I got over the gate and felt the rain, I thought it'd be my biggest problem tracking him down, making any headway. Can't believe it's the one thing that kept all this from being more fucked up.”

I can't believe it either.

I push my head into his shoulder while his arm wraps tighter. We sit together, under a soft pink umbrella, parked on a bench in the hospital's brilliant green courtyard. It's still raining, sometimes in waves. Nothing like the deluge that came only seconds after Jace lit himself on fire.

“Yeah. It saved his life. The house, too. Those firefighters wouldn't have been able to do much if they'd shown up a few minutes later with everything in flames. God, Trent. We're lucky.” It hurts to even say it.

It should sound absurd.

On the surface, there's nothing remotely lucky or pleasant or thankful about this. Mom lays in a bed broken and bruised, barely upgraded to stable.

Dad's beyond shattered. It'll take six figures easy to repair the damage to the house, more for the beating the boathouse took.

As for Jace...he's lucky to be alive. Relatively undamaged, considering the flames that torched his clothes to blackened scraps.

If it hadn't been for an act of God, the sky opening up when it did, and Trent's relentless efforts to beat out the fire...

No. I won't let myself think about it.

I close my eyes, a lump in my throat, struggling to understand why I still care.

It's my brother's fault. Everything.

If anyone should suffer, it's him. But when I think of him in the burn ward, under police escort, certain to face arson charges, I just lose it. And Trent gets to bask in the millionth tears I've shed the past twenty-four hours.

“You know, Precious, Lady Luck shafted me more times in life than I care to count, but damn, I think I could kiss her for coming through for us when it counted.” He's wearing his trademark smirk when I look up, scorn in my eyes. He pats my cheek. “Don't worry. She's a homely looking broad. Nothing for you to ever worry over.”

“Jerk,” I grunt, shaking my head. It's impossible to hide the wry smile pulling at my lips. “You know, you don't have to stay. I know you're a busy man, running a billion dollar empire, and you've got work. Ugh, I have work. Don't think I'll profit much this year paying out the bonuses I will to the ladies keeping the inns afloat during...all this.”

All this. I don't know what else to call it.

The end of life as I knew it. And the rough beginning of something new.

“Quiet, Presh, because now you're talking crazy.” He runs his fingers lower down my arm, holding me close. I swear I hear his heart beating softly behind the steady rain. “Business will take care of itself for a few more days. Weeks, maybe, however long you need. I'm not planning to go home to Portland by myself. Not ever again.”

“Huh?” I look up, my eyes big with wonder. “You sure I'm the one talking crazy?”

His blue eyes land on mine, intense and all conquering. I try not to shudder. “Certain. It's my fault I couldn't stop this from getting more fucked up. I'd be a royal bastard to walk away now. If only I'd punched him out, called you first, or paid Jason more to make sure you never left the car...”

I tilt my face. I'm still a little salty over being taken hostage and having to pay a king's ransom to his driver just to stumble into a freaking mess.

Of course, Jason was good about it, seeing what happened next. His panicked calls to 9-11 are probably what got the emergency crew out to the house faster. He also settled for a year of his son's tuition, but I insisted on two.

“Next time, nobody else gets caught in the middle of our business. And no more special arrangements with drivers,” I say, scratching at his chest.

“Fuck next time. It's over, Presh. I swear to you, with this pink umbrella as our witness,” he motions, a silly, sly joke that makes me laugh, “I'll never let this happen to you again. Once Jace is out of the burn ward, he'll get the help he needs. I'll see to it if your parents can't. I've got the connections.”

My smile fades. My stomach slowly folds in on itself, souring, thinking about how Jace won't be the only one who'll need serious mental help. Sooner or later, once she's recovered, mom will find out. It's bound to pulverize what's still left of her shattered heart.

“What now?” Trent whispers softly, squeezing my hand.

“Nothing. Getting too far ahead of myself, that's all. There's a lot to sort out. But we'll do it, I guess, little by little. What choice do we have?”

“You will,” he growls. Such feral confidence it almost makes me believe it's that easy. “Wish to hell you didn't have so much stacked up on your plate, Precious. If I'd been a little quicker, if I hadn't let Jace ever leave this place...I'm here for you and your folks. Even your damn worm of a brother. Just rips me up inside knowing I wasn't able to stop this from becoming the worst night of your life.”

He doesn't continue. He knows better. Especially with the conflicted look I'm giving him.

I shake my head, truly amazed. He's so wrong about one crucial part.

This wonderful man still doesn't get it.

“Trent, stop. It wasn't the worst.”

He blinks, cocks his head, a quiet look on his face like I've lost my mind. “You're serious?”

“Because you saved me and you're not allowed to beat yourself up. Because without you, I don't know where we'd be. Mom, Dad, Jace, the house, me...this whole ordeal was far from the worst night of my life. Just give it a few years. After the pain goes, and we're not raging pissed at Jace – if he ever gets his crap together – I just might look back on this as one of the best. Best, I said, as twisted as that sounds. You saved us. You saved me. You saved us all.”

He turns, stares into the rain for several seconds, rolling over my words in his mind. When he looks at me again, there's a heartwarming smile on his face. I can't resist lacing my fingers through his a little harder.

“Hold the umbrella for a second, darling,” he says, pushing it into my other hand.

“Why?” I bat my eyes, wondering what he's doing stepping off the bench, into the rain, which has thankfully softened just enough not to leave him drenched.

“This is the most fucked up time in the world to do this. At least, that's what I thought until you told me different. Presh, I talked to your dad this morning. You were in there with your ma, and he was in the waiting room alone. I didn't press him, he struck up the conversation. Thanked me for doing what I did. Then I filled him in on everything that happened. Everything six years ago that got us into this mess.”

My jaw drops. Something starts to wet my cheek, far too warm to be rain. “How...how'd he take it?”

Trent smiles, takes my hand, clasps it between his huge palms. “Not happily, of course, but Maxwell's no fool. The holes in Jace's story bothered him for years. He did the same thing anyone would do staring into a hurricane: left it the hell alone.”

Shock shoots through me. So does a little bit of rage. Dad doubted, and he'd never said anything?

“Don't pin too much on him,” Trent says, reading my mind. “He tried to get on with his life. Tried like hell to move the whole family forward. He even figured I'd be back someday, one way or another, and then maybe he'd get the truth.”

I slowly release the sigh I'm holding in. Whatever. Fine.

There's too much hurt in my heart to hold more grudges.

Trent pauses, his blue eyes heavy, almost sparkling in the dull grey morning light hiding behind the clouds. “I gave him that truth. Finally. Then I apologized up and down for taking so long to figure this shit out and do the right thing, just like I did with you.”

I can't believe what I'm hearing.

I think I start shaking just a little, but I force my nerves calm again, because everything he's telling me suggests it's not just talk. This ugliness might actually be over.

“Trent...”

“Hold up. I'm not done yet, Precious. I also asked your old man something else.” He pauses, reaching into his pocket. A second later, I'm face-to-face with a cube wrapped in burgundy. “Had this with me since we were in Lincoln City, darling. I was about to do it the night everything went to hell, but you got that call. Nothing else mattered except getting our asses back here. Getting it fixed. Now that it's said and done, I'm fixing us.”

Oh. My. God.

Now, I'm definitely shaking. I'm delirious as his thumb flicks the box open, revealing a ring cast in white gold, studded with more diamonds than I think there are stars in the sky. I've grown up around enough wealthy women to know it cost him a pretty penny, even with his enormous resources, but that's not what shocks new tears from my eyes.

It's the cost to him in hearts. The price we both paid.

The horror, the nightmare, the tragedy, the wait.

All so we could finally have this moment.

“I asked Maxwell for his approval to marry you. Just between you and me, he almost fell over, at first. But the more he chewed on it, the faster he came around. He knew. Just like I did, and just like you reminded me of the one thing I've ever been good at, darling.” He stumbles over the last word, then pauses, drawing in a massive breath.

Holy crap. Is Trent freaking Usher actually nervous?

For the tenth time today, my heart bleeds wonder. Wonder, awe, and love.

“I know this is crazy, Presh. Pure insanity. It's crazy all I've ever been good at is putting the light in your life when we've had so much darkness. Crazy I've never been prouder of anything I've done more than loving you. Not my billions. Not my brains. Not my biz, or my charity, or all the lives I've changed. And yeah, it's also crazy I'm asking this with everything gone to pieces, so much unknown, so many ugly things still ahead...but fuck, I'd be a fool to wait a second longer. I'd be truly crazy putting this off. Not claiming you now. Not vowing I'll protect you and your family till my last dying breath. Not asking you to be my wife.” His eyes are huge and twinkling as he brushes the ring box against my hand. “Marry me, Amy Kay. Give me forever.”

It's my turn to stare into the rain.

Brain on fire. Cheeks warm and wet.

Approximately thirty seconds from totally falling to pieces.

I don't wait for him to utter another word before I answer.

I throw myself on the ground, next to him. Throwing my arms around this gorgeous, brilliant, mystical man, I hold on for dear life before I look him in the eye, open my lips, and answer with all my might.

“Yes! Of course, Trent. It couldn't be more perfect.” Oh, but it could, a thousand different ways.

Then again, did morning ever look like anything without the sun devouring the night?

“Let's get married, darling,” he growls, a big grin stretching across his face. His forehead presses into mine and we share a kiss that seems to last forever.

“Married,” I echo the word, still trying to believe it, squeezing his fingers in mine. “I love you. So much it hurts sometimes.”

He grabs my hand, pushes on the ring, and it's a magnificent fit.

I don't have time to look down and admire the new mark he's left on my hand before I hear his voice, half-whisper and half-growl. “Darling woman, you have no idea. Love you so much it's made me fucking crazy. Made me hurt. Made me bleed. And I wouldn't have it any other way.”

* * *

It's high summer. The rainy season long behind us.

We spent our last night engaged on the Space Needle, a private viewing Trent arranged just for us and must've spent a fortune on, watching America celebrate her independence with fireworks exploding across the Puget Sound in messy circles.

The colors glowed so beautifully on the waters. Even prettier reflected off the urban granite, steel, and glass. I'm thankful the Fourth was on a Friday this year, one day before the biggest day of my life.

Now, it's here.

The dress makes me look like royalty. Layers of lily white lace with cream-gold flourishes, sparkling Keds with ribbons for shoelaces, and no freaking veil.

That's intentional. I want to see every beautiful nano-second of our wedding.

I also want Trent to see my face. No matter how much I'm bawling like a baby.

His blue eyes burn the second they're on me, stepping out as the music swells. I walk down the aisle, taking in the scene, dad leading me gently by the arm. He can't stop looking over, and every time I do there's a teary smile nipping at my cheeks. I know he's overwhelmed to see me this happy, and mom, too.

She follows our every step from her perch near the front. It's the biggest I've seen her smiling in months, dressed to stun with her dark green dress and silver cane. She's next to my soon-to-be-father-in-law, Dale, who looks rather dapper in his checkerboard jacket. There's a woman's hairpin tucked in his lapel – Martha's – a piece of Trent's mother here with us today. I've caught my love looking at it a couple times, as soon as I watched his father arrive out the window this morning.

Right now, though, his eyes are on me. Glued to me.

“Almost there, peanut,” dad says in a low whisper, guiding us forward, closer to the altar and through the throngs on both sides. It's a mixed crowd, a little of his side and mine, since his family isn't nearly as large.

There's even a dour looking Lindsey, who's been friendly to me lately. She came out of respect for my parents, and for me, I suppose. So far, no sign of my brother, but for better or worse, that's what I expect.

I look ahead, focused on the moment, ever closer to the sharp dressed God at the altar ready to take us to Elysium. Trent looks damn good on any normal day.

But today, for our wedding? If looks could kill, this would be a funeral.

Mine.

His suit is navy, a shade darker than his eyes. There's a burgundy tie, flat and delicate against his chest, a stark contrast to the hard valleys and rolling hills swathed in dark ink underneath.

A wicked heat burns between my thighs, imagining all the things running through his head as he sees me in this dress. Imagining later, once we're alone, and he peels it off...

It's been two weeks since we've had sex – a record.

I made him wait, just to make the honeymoon sweeter, but he made it crystal clear fourteen days was the upper limit. I'm still a little dizzy when dad releases me with one last kiss on the cheek, then takes his seat next to mom.

“Dearly beloved,” our officiant begins, speaking into the mic, a lovely woman with gold hair. “We're gathered here today to celebrate the joining of two hearts denied for too long. Trent Usher and Amy Kay Chenocott...”

I hear his words, but I don't.

I'm too busy trying to keep my balance once his hands take mine, releasing a swarm of butterflies.

I'm too busy trying – and failing – not to lose myself in a sea of manly blue. His crisp suit contrasts wonderfully with my blue. And nothing will ever hold a candle to his eyes, sharp and bright and soul-piercing as ever.

Oh, and I'm definitely too impatient. Waiting for my line, when I'm finally able to choke out a mushy “I do” between muffled sobs.

I told myself a thousand times the past three months I wouldn't cry. But here I am.

Here. We. Are.

The place I thought we'd never be.

It hits me then. I grip his hand tighter, so fierce it makes him tilt his head, questions in his eyes.

Damn you, Trent Usher, you'd better stick to script. If you've got something up your sleeve besides the basic vows we decided we'd stick to...

Of course he does. He wouldn't be the man I'm marrying without doing this his way.

The officiant nods to him. He smiles, tightens his grip on my hand, and we both know in our gut what's coming.

“I do, Amy Kay. I do because I didn't know it was possible for a man to love a woman this much and be denied for so long. Didn't know we'd ever have a second chance – a forever – and now that it's here I'm holding on for life. Didn't even know how happy we could be, how lucky, how certain it only gets better every day you're in my life. I do, Precious, and I always will. I'll be by your side in sickness, in health, in dust. I'll be there to catch you when you fall, and when you really need a midnight ice cream thanks to our baby growing in you...” He pauses, eyes drifting to my lower belly. I flush, tearing up again. “I'll be there for all of it, darling. Because after the years we've missed, I'd rather die than miss another second. Love you like the sun in this soggy ass city, and because we're too good at lighting up each other's worlds. I do. Today, tomorrow, forever.”

Is he done? Is he through pulling my heart out of my chest in slow motion and replacing it with mush? I don't think the happiest woman on Earth stays human after this man has screwed up her pulse. Knotted up her inner rhythm in all the best ways.

“Then by the power vested in me by Washington, I hereby pronounce you –”

Torch the script. Trent Usher, my amazing husband, isn't the only one here who gets to stray off it and do whatever the hell he wants.

The crowd gasps as I throw myself at him, push my lips to his, and drink him in so hard it hurts my face. It doesn't even take a second before he catches on.

We kiss ourselves into bliss. We synchronize souls. We fall into forever with the sunlight leaking through the church's tinted glass, a kaleidoscope of colors bursting onto us. It's a spotlight that cuts straight to our hearts.

They're huge. Happy. Drunk on love.

* * *

“You two look amazing together.”

“Dad! Are you trying to break a record today, seeing how many times you can say it?” I'm trying to give my dad an annoyed look, but I can't help but smile. We're saying goodbye to our parents – or trying to – but they're way too good at talking our ears off.

It's the last stop. Incredible we're not completely exhausted, too, after the dinner, the dance, and endless conversations with distant family I haven't seen for years, plus more of Trent's business associates than I can remember.

“Because I mean it, peanut. Long, hard road getting here. A few months ago, I'd have never believed it, but now...my God. Can't see anything else.”

“Neither can I,” mom cuts in, sipping her champagne. “You know, this is the first day I've roamed around without noticing the pain? They said that wouldn't happen for a few more months.”

“As long as you hydrate, dear,” dad says softly, giving a knowing look at her glass. She shoots him a dirty look back. “Only because I love you. Don't want you paying for this lovely day in the morning.”

She opens her mouth to snap back, but then closes it. Instead, she presses her arms around Trent one more time, whispering in his ear, loud enough so I can hear. “We couldn't be happier for you both. Except, I don't think anything will ever make us smile more than having our family together again.”

He pats her hands and looks at dad. My father nods, a rare smile creeping out behind his salt and pepper goatee. “Ditto. It's good to have you back, Mr. Usher.”

The four of us trade hugs one more time and then we turn. Trent gives me a knowing look. I smile back, shaking my head, suddenly blushing like I did years ago, when we were just two stupid kids afraid to admit our crushes. “Okay, out with it. You've been looking at me like that all night. What's up?”

He wrinkles his nose, leaning in. “A little sympathy, Presh. Much as I've loved all this talk and pressing hands, there's something I've waited very patiently for. It involves you, me, and a horizontal surface sturdy enough not to break. But for simplicity's sake, let's make that last part optional.”

Laughing, I push against him. He growls, grabs my hand, and leads me on faster, toward the back entrance of the huge historic mansion where we've had our reception. There's a private marina down in the docks and a familiar ship waiting, illuminated by the soft lamps on the shore.

“I can't believe you want to take the Wilkie out. We're lucky dad was even able to salvage her after the fire. The kitchenette still smells a little like smoke, last I checked.”

“She's aged like a fine wine, Presh. Look, we both know I could easily afford to buy my own fleet of yachts. Thing is, if we really want to sail up to the Orcas and onto Victoria in style – and we do – there's nothing better. We'll never find another ship where we began.”

My heart overrides the soft roll of my eyes. “You're right. I'm just...do you want me to keep crying? Because this is how it happens, Mr. Usher.” I'm blotting at my face again. Even after so much emotion today, I'm still overwhelmed. I don't know if it'll ever end.

“Mrs. Usher,” he growls, taking great delight in the Mrs. part, “I'm very good at taking your mind off tears, if you'll give me a chance.”

The hand he's kept on my low back drifts down, grazing my ass through the dress. Smiling, I shoot him a knowing look, trying to control the goosebumps peppering my helpless skin. “Not until we're out of here and in port. Privacy, Trent. You're lucky I remember how to drive this thing after all these years.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but it's not the reason I jump again. This time, much higher, my heart in my throat. An arm reaches out of the bushes, grabs his shoulders, and he whirls around, ready to put his fist through the intruder's face.

“Jace? Holy shit.” I'm covering my mouth, heart pounding, fearing the worst.

He looks rough. He's wearing a white shirt with the top three buttons undone, his curly dark hair is a mess. The freshly grafted skin on his neck glows unnaturally pink in the light.

“There's my lovebirds. Relax, sis, I'm not here to –”

“What the hell do you want?” Trent snarls, hooking me around the waist, using his hard body as a shield.

“I came out here because I had to. It's been too long. Yeah, yeah, I know dad said I should stay in treatment. Rest assured I'll be marching my ass back to the reservation right after this. Go talk to my driver if you don't believe me. I also came to say...fuck, this is difficult...I'm sorry.” His eyes hit mine. I relax and tense simultaneously. They're not crazy eyes, but my brother with a conscience? I can't even. “Trent, I fucked you over hard. Then I kept doing it. I lost my shit when I should've been a man and learned to straighten it out. I'm doing that now. I swear.”

“Jace, you're sweet, but I'm not sure this the best time –”

“No, sis. No.” He pivots, drilling his eyes into mine. “It's the only time. Only one that makes sense. Now that our family's changing, merging like it was always supposed to. We've finally got a chance to put this crap behind us.” He looks away, over the sea, and then sighs. “I came out here to bury the damn dagger.”

“Hatchet,” Trent corrects. I think we both expect my brother to get pissy over that, but he just laughs.

“Right, Usher. Got it. Listen, I won't keep you much longer. I've said what I needed to, and in case it didn't sink in yet, here it is one more time: I'm really, really fucking sorry. Sorry for everything. And I'm working like hell to make sure it never happens again.”

Trent cranes his face, studying my brother. At last, he nods firmly. “Then you deserve nothing but my best, Jace. Thanks.”

His hand stays in mine while I lean forward, yet another round of tears fighting to get out, and give my brother a bear hug. “You'll be better soon. I know you will.”

He's smiling when I pull away. We watch him turn away quickly, wiping something from his eye, and then kick gently at a couple loose rocks at the edge of the dock.

“Should be fully done with rehab by October. Maybe we'll catch up then?”

“Count on it,” Trent says, preempting me. He pushes his fingers through mine and gives his reassuring pressure. “We'll probably be back in Seattle around then. Or if you ever come out toward Spokane –”

“That'd be amazing. I'll see what my schedule looks like. Got a new internship lined up with one of dad's old partners. Heavily supervised,” he says with a wink. “See you soon, sis. In case you both wondered, I'm heading straight home – against my better instinct to start working on Linds tonight. I'll win her back, one way or another.”

He turns, pacing up the hill. Trent glances further ahead, making sure the driver is really there like he said, and then we both share a confused look.

I don't think Lindsey will ever forgive him for the horrible things he did. But if there's anything I know, bracing my head for a second against the man who's given me so much, it's that change is inevitable.

And sometimes it's pretty shocking.

Sometimes change branches out in strange, beautiful, awesome directions.

* * *

“Easy, hubby!” I'm surprised how feral I sound.

He's not the only one trying to practically tear my dress off as soon as we're anchored for the night after a steady cruise north, somewhere near Bellingham.

“Fuck no. I've waited all night. Dress off now if you want to keep it looking pretty.” His words come rough, through his teeth, a split second before he's on me again, dive-bombing kisses at my neck. His five o'clock shadow rakes heat through my blood.

His hand finds my right breast through the fabric, squeezes, and my heat becomes fire. I toss my head back, giving in. So completely gone and loving it.

“Trent!” I'm gasping quite possibly the one name I can comprehend.

“You heard me, Presh. Dress. Off. Now.”

I don't know who's faster. I'm grateful for how he puts his lust on pause, barely long enough to help me shed my dress without any crazy damage. It falls to the floor, a heap next to the massive bed, and then I'm on him, pulling at his tie, leveling my mouth against his.

His hand reaches between my thighs. A knuckle goes against my clit, pushing hard through soaked fabric, tortuously enticing. I whimper.

“Fuck this,” he says, hurling off his jacket, working on his buttons like mad. “I'm not just stripping down like a sailor on drill because I'm eager to be in my wife – though that's very much part of it. I've waited all damn day for you to see your surprise, Presh.”

“Surprise?” I think I blink twice, the only time his prowling hands allow, tearing at his shirt.

His chest is the same broad masculine mass of steel muscle and dizzying ink I've loved forever. I bring my face close, stamping kisses, wondering what he's getting at. “Found it yet?” he says, sifting his fingers through my hair.

When I do, I stop. Reaching up, I run my fingers across the new tattoo on his shoulder.

It's today's date next to a ring of black fire, intricate and beautiful. Our names are stamped around the flames in a circle, but that's not what makes me grin and shake my head.

Apparently, I'm not just the happiest woman alive anymore. I'm also the luckiest.

“This lifetime and the next. Forever.” I read aloud, a strange shock gnawing at my stomach. Why is this familiar?

Wait. How could I ever forget where I wrote those words before? My throat tightens.

“You...Jesus. You used the words from my hate letter?”

Trent smiles, big and knowing. He grabs my hand, lays it over the tattoo, dragging my nails into it, into him. “Seemed fitting. That's what we did here, didn't we? Turned hate into love. Hell into forever. Figured that belongs on my skin just like your name, darling. Why the hell not? We both know it's already branded thick on my soul.”

“Trent...”

“No, woman. No more tears. Not while the night's young and you're so hot and wet, begging for every inch of me.”

I'm still in disbelief, my heart drumming out of my chest, but my body can't lie. It responds automatically to his touch as he drops to his knees, and then sinks lower.

He spreads my legs, rips my panties off with his teeth.

Whatever soft, tender, bedazzled thoughts I had banish once his tongue goes to work.

Oh, and how.

Long restless licks up my folds. Measured heat against my clit. Two fingers slip deep inside me as I arch my back, powerful and in control, holding back their sweetness until I push my hips into him.

He pauses just for a second, looks up, and gives me my marching orders. “Fuck my fingers, Precious. Fuck my mouth. Fuck my all. Come for me a little harder than you ever have before. It's easy...you're my wife.”

I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't do anything except lose myself in this amazing man, melting down, down, down.

It doesn't take long. His tongue attacks my pussy in long, deep strokes. Once it finds my clit, he's relentless.

I come, trying to yell his name.

Trying and failing because all that comes out is a sharp, breathless gasp. Two weeks without coming on his face and a lifetime of wanting to. Years of dreaming about our wedding night, and finally – finally! – living it.

He growls into my pussy, pulling my ass into him, tongue lashing at my clit. I come so hard even my bones tense, joining my flesh, my heart, my soul in the storm he forces through me.

“Fuck,” I hear him say, flat on my back, desperately replenishing spent breath. “Legs around my waist. Hold on tight. We're not stopping, darling. We're making this count. I'm not fucking pulling out till I've had my wife's pussy thoroughly drenched, fucked, and marked by this dick.”

Like what's coming next needs any introduction.

Trent does everything he promises and then some. Our first fuck as a married couple is sharp, intense, and frantic.

The fire in his body can't wait to spill itself in mine. I come again just thinking about it, no more than a few dozen strokes in, his hips slamming mine into the mattress.

I swear, we might be screwing each other so hard the entire boat rocks.

For once in my life, I don't care.

Don't care about anything except holding this man, pushing my hands and feet into his walls of muscle.

Riding out the love, the lust, the passion of us.

“Need to feel your pussy go again, darling,” he growls, pressing his forehead to mine.

One rough hand reaches up, tugs at my nipple, sends more electricity through my blood. Then it's in my hair, flattening me against the bed, giving him more leverage between my legs. All the better to give me longer, deeper, unbelievable strokes.

“Trent! Oh, hell. Yes.” My eyes roll as his cock does something wonderful inside me.

He catches just the right angle. Just the right speed. Just the right –

“Oh my God. It's good – so good – but hubby, I don't...I don't know if...”

“Presh, you hear me? Fuck me like you mean it. Your married pussy feels so good and I'm so close. Give it to me now.” He silences my next denial with a vicious kiss, sinking his teeth into my bottom lip. “Come the fuck with me.”

Just when I think my body has hard limits, he smashes them.

My eyes roll back after a few more rough strokes and I'm so gone.

Coming!

So hard, so swift, so blindingly hot on his cock I lose my whole weight and just fly.

“Precious, fuck! Coming.”

And he does. Violent spasms rip through him. Every muscle on his huge, magnificent body becomes hot stone, a slab of man pouring himself into me. His cock plunges deep and he roars his release, the heat of his seed floods into me sharper than sin.

Coming. Together.

Coming. So good.

Coming. Forever.

He holds his cock in me as we slowly drift out of our stupor. Then he buries his lips on mine again, a softer, saner kiss, one that settles deep in my heart.

“Amazing, Presh. Just like you. Must be the luckiest asshole anywhere, knowing I've got a lifetime of that ahead.”

“This lifetime. And the next,” I say, smiling into another kiss. I nip at his bottom lip, catch it, and then give back a bite as good as he gave.

Only trouble with life is, it spins by so fast, especially after you've found the man you're meant to have forever.

I pause, loving how he laughs, rubbing at his lips, and then attacks mine all over again.

Our next kiss, I savor. Because as fast as our new happy lives are rocketing by, they'll never catch forever.

Lucky me, lucky us, forever with Trent Usher is a very long, very sweet, very perfect eternity.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Want more Trent and Precious?

Then read on for two more full length second chance romances included with this special edition, Baby Fever Promise and Marry Me Again.