Everyone, and I mean everyone, is here.

A full audience is impressive as it is majestic, considering there's nothing traditional about this wedding. Not even the time. It's the ass crack of dawn, six in the morning, and we're standing on the banks of the rocky Maine shore as the sun comes up, five miles outside Chandlersport on a stretch of land I added to my property a few months ago for this occasion.

The little white gazebo and wooden walkway I've had thrown up last week does its job, shielding my moscato's heels from the uneven dirt as she walks toward me.

I take a minute to breathe, and let myself smile, taking in her sweetness while the music kicks up. It's a rock rendition of Here Comes the Bride.

There's so many eyes glued to us. I'm not the only fool gawking today.

My brothers and their wives, my niece and nephew, my own little man, lovingly tucked into his grandmother's arms. Seeing Cora Corbin with her grandson, you'd never know she's shaking off a divorce and a swift descent into upper middle class limitations after the Feds took almost everything from her asshole husband.

I've told her a dozen times I'll fund her trips, wherever she wants to go. Bekah says she isn't interested in soaps and tourism anymore, not since the kid came along. For her, it's family. And frankly, that's fine by me.

Everybody who counts from the office looks on. Jake and Crowley just look relieved to have a getaway I've paid for, secure in their old jobs. Nina flashes me a huge grin and a thumbs up. She's been promoted since we helped disentangle ourselves from Corbin's dirt, and worked like a dog to restore Neolithic's good name on Wall Street.

Then there's Tay. I think the feisty young thing who introduced us is about to burst into tears as she clutches surfer dude's shoulder, the same dumb man candy she shacked up with the night we did. They've broken up twice and wound up together again.

Can't say how serious it is, but it must be something if it's magnetic. Though it really looks like the kid with the tanned muscles could really use a beer.

He'll have plenty at the free bar Mack insisted on setting up for me at the reception. I don't waste more than a precious second or two looking over everyone, counting the ones in place, because my attention goes straight to the only sight that matters.

My perfect, sweet, and happy little wife. She's decked in cream and lace and heels. I want her to leave those on when I carry her back to my lodge later, take her upstairs to the first bed we ever shared, and put her under me like it's our very first time.

Technically, it is. Tonight, as man and wife, it's just as meaningful a first as the night I took her cherry.

The minister behind me gives an approving nod when she finally reaches the altar. The music stops.

I don't even wait to grab both her hands as the words I never thought would mean a damned thing to me begin.

“Dearly beloved, we're gathered here today to join Grant Shaw and Rebekah Corbin in holy matrimony...”

I hear the words we've rehearsed, but they're more like background music than proper speech. I'm too lost in her eyes to focus. Too taken with every soft, supple curve on her I'll own for the first time as a married man.

In sickness, and in health. When he gets to that part, I see tears in her eyes, true and clear behind her veil.

For better, and for worse. We've seen both.

“I do,” she whispers, turning her head toward the minister, before she faces me again. “I always did,” she whispers under her breath, leaning in.

Wish like hell we could skip the rest of this rodeo and get to that 'kiss the bride' part. Lucky me, she's a beautiful distraction. Helps me make it through the rest of his flowery speech while I squeeze her hands, giving him a shred of my attention when he gets to the important part.

“Do you, Grant Shaw, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded –“

“I do. I always will. Today, tomorrow, and every day I'm lucky enough to keep drawing breath with the woman who's given me new life at my side. Let's do this.”

My brisk words get laughter from the peanut gallery. Can't say I care while the minister, a very formal man, catches himself and tries to plod on with his lines.

“Then by the power vested in me by the great state of Maine, it's my esteemed pleasure to pronounce you man and wife. You may now –“

Kiss the bride? Oh, fuck yeah, I do.

I've got her veil tucked behind her head before he's finished, arm around her waist, pulling her into me, and this time forever. I push my lips into hers like a kid with a cloud of cotton candy. And she's just as sweet, just as colorful, just as sure to put a few more stars in my eyes after I've had my fill.

She loses a few soft, soulful moans to my lips. I devour them while our friends and family break into cheers. We kiss so long and hard the happy sounds breaking out around us melt into the indistinct purr of the ocean.

* * *

“Proud of you, bro. Come the hell here.” Luke never settles for a firm handshake. He lets his sensitive side get the better of him and jerks me into his grasp. Today, I oblige him, slamming my chest on his as we throw our arms around each other like two old soldiers reunited.

“Wouldn't be nothing to take pride in if it wasn't for your help, Fly Right.”

“That's what brothers are for. Did you really think Hayds and me would let you go on a bachelor forever?” He smiles a big shit-eating grin. First time in forever I've seen him without his bombardier jacket, too. He's in the same sleek penguin suit he wears playing Hollywood's new favorite billionaire hero, probably one he's borrowed from the set.

“It's official. Hell is iced over. All the Shaws are taken,” Hayden comes up behind us, throwing his arms around our shoulders. “Never thought I'd see the day.”

“Had a few nights where I thought we'd never survive, brother. The odds stacked against everybody getting here were worse than I've seen on any money screen.” That's saying a lot considering how many falling knives I've caught, and spun into pure gold. But no big deal or wonder trade ever compares to winning my woman.

“Who'd have thunk it, right? We beat evil step-moms and tropical viruses. Lying brats and drunken fathers. French guys too dumb to take no for an answer.”

I clench my jaw when he mentions Ethan. There are nights when I see his dead, cold face in my dreams, alive again, standing over my woman and little Grant, threatening to push them over the edge.

Ought to make me want to resurrect his evil ass just to kill him again. But I'm not a psycho like him.

I'm glad he's no longer walking the Earth. Happy he died quick and clean, and Fabius holdings around the world are being liquidated as the courts have their way. He won't torture my girl ever again, and neither will the dirty guns and rockets he profited on in war zones.

“How's the firm holding up? Tell me they'll stop busting your balls long enough to let you enjoy your honeymoon?” Hayden gives me a pained look.

“We're wrapping up with the SEC. They let us off with a few stiff fines for our full cooperation. Paid them gladly, out of my own pocket. Good reminder never to let this shit happen again. No more mergers for me, brother. I'd rather be second fiddle and pretty damned rich than anybody's slave. I'll take Neolithic to the top on its own, or learn to be happy it's in the top ten hedge funds.”

“That's the Shaw way,” Luke says, an approving smile on his face. “It's a humiliating day any man with our name ever needs to get down on his hands and knees, or lets anybody put a leash around his neck. Never take crap from anyone. We're too damned good for it and –“

“Luke!” Robbi catches up with us, grabbing my brother by the shoulder, concern in her eyes. She's got my nephew in her other arm, and he doesn't look happy. “There you are. Remember what you said about dealing with the little boy's room so I could enjoy myself tonight?” She gives him a huge grin.

“I'll run Zane over in a minute, little bird. Go have another glass of wine,” he whispers, planting a kiss on her forehead, before he turns back to us with a snort. “Correction: there's always crap to take from your wife and kids. Sometimes literally. Good thing this crap is worth it.”

It's perfect timing. Hayds and I are holding in our laughter when our ladies catch up to us. Luke and his family make way for two more. There's Penny, holding up little Abby. I lean in so my niece can have the handful of my beard that always leaves her laughing.

“I brought you a nice moscato, hubby.” I turn around and see Bekah standing there in ivory perfection, two full crystal glasses in her hand. “Thought it'd help limber you up for the dance in the next hour.”

I clink glasses and give her a strained wink. “Oh, right. That. If it's tradition, I suppose –“

“It's a chance to let Grant Jr. see his parents with the biggest grins they'll ever have,” she says, forming a playful pout with her lips. She leans in, pressing those sweet, full lips to my ear. “Besides, did I ever tell you how sexy you look when your hands are on me in front of everyone? Nice way to get worked up before...you know.”

“No. Enlighten me,” I whisper back, pulling away to take a long, refreshing sip from my glass.

She blushes to this day when I tease her about sex, the little minx. Innocence may have been her middle name once, but she isn't fooling me anymore. One word about my face between her thighs, and she's rose red and wanting. Always my virgin rose, and now my married one, supple and ready to be plucked.

“Aw, you kids. Enjoy yourselves tonight. Leave the baby to me.” Cora comes up behind her, flashing me a knowing grin, bouncing our baby son on her shoulder. “Good distraction for me, too. Jeremiah never really did keep me company, but I do miss my mimosas...”

“Mom, you're doing great,” Bekah says, spinning around. My hands go down her waist. I back my bride up with a nod. “Stick with the program. You won't think twice about drinking in a few more months.”

“As if I have time to fall off the wagon, honey. I'm not winding up like your father, so helplessly addicted I do bad. Power always was his drug, I suppose. I'll never know why he couldn't be satisfied with the simpler things. Like seeing my only daughter getting married, and spending a lovely evening with this little man.” Smiling, she rubs her nose on Grant Jr.'s, getting a messy laugh out of our baby boy.

Bekah and I share a smile. We want her mother's Jeremiah mentions short and sweet.

Someday, we hope they'll disappear completely, before little Grant is old enough to understand.

We'll sit him down and explain why his grandfather spent his last days behind bars. We may even tell him why daddy has that faint phantom scar on his cheek, and how his company almost went belly up thanks to a few big mistakes and a whacked out French stalker after his mom.

Cora grins at us one more time, and then heads back to her seat as the music playing overhead swells louder. “Mother-in-laws,” Hayds says, rolling his eyes. “Welcome to the club, brother.”

I laugh because he isn't exaggerating. Penny's mother, Melody, is a character on neurotic steroids.

“When do I get my club card? I'll put it in my wallet,” I joke. But actually...

Melody is the loud, but benign version of crazy mother-in-law. And how could I forget Ericka, Robbi's mom, who's sociopathic tendencies nearly put our brother away? It's taken her a lot of therapy to get better after she wrecked enough havoc for several lifetimes.

I take my wife's hand as we watch Cora slip through the crowd with Grant Jr., heading for her table. Draining the last of my wine, I'm hyper-aware it could be a hell of a lot worse.

If helping Jeremiah's wounds heal and keeping her off the bottle is all I need to worry about with Cora, I've gotten off lightly. I'm a very lucky man indeed.

One last hungry glance from Bekah reminds me just how lucky.

* * *

Bringing one of the finest New York orchestras up to nowhere, Maine, wasn't cheap. Damn if I regret blowing a penny when the lights are down, the violins sing, and I escort my lady to the middle of the spacious ballroom.

My brothers are out there with their girls, too, and so are my business partners. But they're off to the side, holding hands, while we have our first dance as man and wife.

She's beauty drenched in charm as she moves in her long cream and lace dress, my arm around her waist, holding her at arm's length every few steps so I'm able to resist doing all the wicked things running through my brain.

I'm sure I look like Prince Charming, groomed to the nines in my suit. Also wonder if old Charming ever had to worry about the bulge in his trousers when his cock stirred full, aching to dispense with classy tradition, and take this dance where it really counts between the sheets.

Behave. Just a little while longer, I remind myself.

Hardly easy when my blood spits fire every time she grinds against me. Her little ass is just as lush as the first night I had her. Adrenaline hits my brain and overpowers the wine, making me drunk on lust and want and magic.

“You never cashed the check I gave you last year,” I tell her. Need to make conversation out here before I turn our waltz into a strip show, blood thrumming in my fingers as I fight to pull them off her ass before they linger too long.

She turns, craning her neck to face me, brushing her chestnut hair on my beard. “Sorry? If you'll remember, we were kind of preoccupied.”

“Yeah, well, the money's still yours. All yours, Bekah. Whatever amount. I'll cut you a new one tomorrow, and make it out to your charity.”

She whirls, a perfect sheen of sweat on her brow. The music soars, flutes pipping their excitement through the melodies, approaching crescendo.

“I can't do that. We're married now, Grant. I get how we share everything, but it's technically your money. So much of your money.”

“There's always more, moscato. Consider it my wedding gift to you. I've got one more present tonight, but I thought I'd give you the second best now.” I wink. Stretching out my arms, I hold her as we do a loop around the floor, past our smiling guests in the background. The whole scene blurs as my focus tightens on her, and only her. “Those kids in Colombia or wherever need clean water. We're also parents. Don't want our boy growing up without realizing how lucky he is, and how he's got an obligation to make lives better. Better get him started early so he sets an example for his siblings.”

“And what if I want a way to go there and set an example, too? I can't do the comfortable housewife thing yet. Maybe not ever...”

The music screeches to its high, and begins to soften, like a heavy storm drifting out to sea. Smiling, I pull her close, aiming her lips perfectly at mine. “Never said you should. If you're happy, I'm happy. I'll run my company from the damned jungle if that's what it takes to keep a smile on your face while you're making this world brighter. Told you before, moscato, there's one thing I won't compromise on, though.”

“I know, I know,” she grins, flattening both hands against my chest, pushing playfully against me. “Four, maybe five. You want a big family.”

“Got too much heart for anything less,” I growl, laying a kiss on her neck, making her feel my teeth as I move up to her ear. The applause kicks up, my brothers whistling like wolves. I have to whisper loudly to talk through their uproar. “Plus you're so fucking hot when you're knocked up. Saw the pictures, moscato. Next time, I'll be there to help you every day through it, and you'll be smiling instead of looking like your world just ended.”

She moans, turning to honey in my arms when my lips come down on hers. It's a kiss so hard it makes me question whether worlds aren't being ended tonight after all. If they are, there are better ones coming, and I'm going to build them all.

* * *

Later, we climb in my car. We're leaving the reception with the stars. We head straight for my cabin, the place where it all started. It's a balmy summer night, perfect for a walk down the wooden platform behind my place, down to the other section of private shore I own beneath the trees.

We'll do it about a hundred times in the bed where I took her cherry before the weekend is through. But not before I have her where the whole universe can see, underneath the sun, the moon, and galaxies near and far.

We walk slowly, north shore pebbles rolling under our feet. My hand covers her eyes until we reach the small nest I've had prepared between the rocks.

“Can I look, Grant?”

I smile, stopping when we're next to the big surprise, leaving her eyes hidden just a few seconds longer. “So impatient, moscato. You're fortunate I love it. Here, without further adieu, is my second wedding gift to you.”

When I pull my hand away and her eyes open, she gasps. I hold her tight, laying my head in the nook of her shoulder as wonder fills her.

“Oh my God. How'd you even get this here? It's beautiful.”

I let her gaze wander over the cedar canopy bed surrounded by thick white curtains. I've had a matching wedding gazebo built over it, our own private sanctuary next to the sea, next to a fully stocked wine cabinet doubling as a nightstand.

“Forget how, moscato. This is where we'll start our honeymoon. And you'd better believe I'm raring to go...”

She turns, twisting in my arms. We face each other like it's the very first time: intense, on fire, and a little unsure.

My mouth does the talking without words. It tells her what I want, what I need, when my lips crash down on hers, blessed by the heat welling up inside me.

Even though it's summer, I worried we'd be cold this close to the sea. Turns out the kerosene lanterns I've had installed next to our beach bed aren't necessary. I'm on fire, and so is she, as soon as we fall into each wrangling kiss.

“Pretty as this thing looks, it's earned a retirement tonight,” I whisper, working my fingers through the straps holding together the back of her dress. Each clasp pops easy in my hands. Had it custom designed for exactly that purpose when she picked it out because I knew I'd be half-mad to get inside her after our ceremony.

Standing flushed, she spreads her legs, moving them to help me bring her out of the virgin white dress clinging to her skin. Underneath, she's naked and beautiful. Told her I wouldn't have any lingerie tonight, but when I'm on my knees, throwing my jacket over her dress in the weighted hamper I've had placed next to the bed, I stop.

“These are staying on,” I growl, remembering the heels. My cock throbs, imagining her digging them in my sides like spurs when I fuck her again and again.

It's hot. It's wild. Maybe it'll hurt a little, but good sex always should.

“Oh? I thought they'd done enough walking for one day. Don't they deserve a rest like my dress?” she teases, rifling her fingers through my short hair.

My fingers don't stop working until they've got my shirt off, and then I stand, instantly picking up where I left off on my belt. “No marathons where we're going, baby girl. Keep the shoes and make sir happy. They'll help you keep up with me when we start flying.”

I'm serious. My pants fall and I hoist her up. She squeals as I fling her around, crashing down through the canopy with her, onto the mattress.

Every extremity attached to my body burns. My fingers, my tongue, my cock all want their piece of her. I don't leave her time to even regain her balance before I'm pulling her legs apart, moving to the end of the bed.

“Grant, wait, don't you think we should...oh!”

Oh, yeah.

She realizes I'm not waiting another fucking second when my tongue spreads her sweet cunt. It's steaming, soaked, and ready for every pierced inch of me. But it'd be a crime to waste pussy this wet without feeling it squirt all over my beard when it's finally mine, legal and lawful, for the very first time.

“Hands above your head, moscato,” I growl, the only warning she gets before I push my face into her.

Five licks in, she's paralyzed. Whatever her worries, whatever her fears, I lift them away with every sultry sweep of my tongue.

Fuck, she tastes good. Better than she did as a virgin, better than when she was just the mother of my first born. Tonight, she's sweeter, more intense, unnaturally divine because she's my wife, and she belongs to this mouth as sure as that rock I've put on her belongs to her finger.

Burning napalm pulses in my balls. I love the music I make as I eat her, grabbing her ass, hooking her a little harder to my mouth when her hips can't resist riding back. First her little whimpers turn to moans. Then they become screams.

It's messy, it's hot, and it's the greatest fucking sound I've ever heard. She pulls at the sheets underneath us, her thighs pinching harder around my head. I throw her legs over my shoulders, savoring the fire when her heels dig into my skin, spurring me to bring her over the edge like a man possessed.

“Grant, God, yes! Holy fucking –“

Shit. I finish for her, growling my curse into her pussy when her hips lift up, smother my face, and I send her to heaven with my beard tickling her inner thighs.

My little moscato curses like a sailor when she loses it. Her words come between her screams, filth I won't even repeat. Have to keep my tongue lashing her hot little clit like a demon so I don't shoot off on the spot.

I'm well on my way to training a dirty talker, and I love it.

Her mouth should sin as much as her flesh when I've got her fused to me, coming like a rocket, losing wet bliss against my lips. I don't let up when her tremors stop, and she's trying to pull away. I want her pussy soaked for the last surprise of the night I've embedded in my dick.

It's a new gold stud, smooth as her own fine bottom. Like riding sculpted ice, the man who sold it to me claimed. You learn to appreciate the freaks in New York fast, especially when there are craftsmen out there who make good money figuring out how to make dick piercings feel better than ever.

“Please! Please, Grant,” she whimpers.

She wants me to be done strumming her clit between my teeth. Wants to be full of me, panting like she'll lose it if she isn't leaking my seed in the next five minutes.

Too bad for her, I'm far more patient than the greedy nub between her legs. I have no intention of wrapping her pink around me before I've heard the magic word.

I lick faster. She moans louder. The moon shines brighter, freed from the drifting clouds, entrancing me with the sight of her tits bobbing in the shadows as she rides my tongue.

Pre-come drenches my dick by the time I pull my face off her. Mere seconds before I feel her fingers grip my shaft, no sooner than I've got her flat on her back, legs wrapped around me.

“Please,” she whispers, her eyes as big as marbles in the phantom light.

“No, moscato. Try again. Another word.” I shove her hand away by the wrist. Hot and hungry as her little fingers are, they're not stroking off what belongs to her pussy.

“Grant. Hubby. Sir.” She bites her lip by the lower corner on the last word, her brow furrowed, knowing she's found it.

Her reward comes with my full length poised between her swollen pussy lips, a simple thrust away from quenching our thirst. “Once more.”

“Sir. Sir, please.” Sweat beads on her body. I shove the partition in the curtain around the bed open, letting in the cool Atlantic breeze before we ignite our sheets. My hand also finds the bottle of wine I've had strategically stored on the rocks under us. “God, you're so bad. I can't stand being teased.”

“Lies. You're hot when you beg, Bekah. Cool yourself on this sweetness before I make you feel it.” I pop the cork with my thumb and hold the wine bottle to her lips. She wraps her mouth around it like a good girl, diving lower than she should, thinking I'll be in her faster if she teases me back, making me think about those lips on my cock.

Well, fuck, she could be right.

I hold the bottle up and take a swig, but only after I've spilled a neat trail down her cleavage. She hisses through clenched teeth when the lush red flows against her skin.

It's an easy target for my tongue. I kiss my mess away, enjoying the fusion of her natural sweetness with the wine, before I suck her nipples into my mouth.

No fine wine will ever compare to this. I watch her head roll back and hear the soft whine escaping her mouth. My hips roll forward, grinding my cock harder into her wetness, tasting my woman at her very best.

There's so much to drink in.

Desire.

Belonging.

Yes, I even taste her fucking heartbeat through her tender, steaming flesh.

It amuses my tongue, frantic for our first coupling as husband and wife. I can't handle it for long before the mad need to be inside her wins out.

“Love you, sweet woman. More than you'll ever understand.” I whisper the last coherent sentence I'm able to form before I pull my hips back, aligning my hardness perfectly, and then push into her slick, tight wonder.

Fuck, she's incredible. I've had this pussy over and over again, yet it never stops reminding me it has this scary ability to pick me up by the balls, drain my sanity, and drop me straight into berserker rut.

Her body takes mine as smooth and easy as my tongue had the wine. My fingers push through hers as I deepen my thrusts, watching her eyelids flutter, knowing it won't be long before she gives it up.

“Come for me, moscato. Show me how much harder my wife comes on my cock. Give sir every damned bit of your married pussy.” I'm thundering the words through clenched teeth, struck by every pleasure bolt attacking my brain the longer I thrust.

“Sir, yes, yes,” she whimpers. “For you.”

I tighten my hold on her fingers, pinning her hands into the mattress over her head, and lower my face to hers. My hips move faster as my forehead presses to hers, eyeball to eyeball, prisoners to our lust.

“Count, moscato. Say it with me. Say it or I'll pull the fuck out and walk away.”

It's a cruel lie, but the horror in her eyes tells me it does the trick. “Yes, yes, please!”

“Yes, you fucking come for me. Come so hard your sweet married pussy sucks off every inch of me. You want your husband's come deep inside you, yeah?”

“Yes!” she moans louder, that familiar oh-fuck-yes spark beaming in her eyes. “Please, please, please. Yes, sir, yes!”

“Yes!” I growl back.

We scream it together a few more times before she jerks beneath me. Her little cunt tenses around my cock, and the gold plated bead hooked to my tip does its job, hitting the spot inside her that makes her entire body convulse.

“Fuck, fuck, yes!”

Yes!

We're screaming in unison, finding our release together.

Normally, I'm good as hell for a few rounds before I give it up. But I'd have an easier time stopping Luke's jet from taking off at full speed than blunting the fierce pleasure throbbing at the base of my cock.

It explodes up, and straight through me, a full body wild fire. Muscles I didn't know I had bow and flex. I slam my cock into her, pushing my heavy balls against her ass, letting go of the hot, thick ropes hurling out of me. My eyes roll back and I –

Oh, fuck. I give up my soul, the secret part of the wedding ceremony nobody tells you about. Nobody says what starts with a ring ends in bed, sealed in blood, sweat, and flesh.

I'm still coming when I smother her open lips with mine. She squeals into my mouth, and I swallow everything she gives me, digging my teeth into her bottom lip.

It's harder than I intend. I taste the faintest metallic blood when my senses return and I'm pulling away. I'm worried I've hurt her in my frenzy, but the satisfied glow on her face tells me how wrong I am.

“I love you so much,” she whispers, just as I pull out, flop down next to her, and bring her into my arms.

It's everything I wanted for tonight, and more. It's raw, it's rough, and yes, it's fucking real. As authentic and messy as our love was, and just how I hope it'll always be, minus the crazy assholes trying to rip us apart.

It's perfectly savage. Savagely perfect. Just like good love should be.

Best of all, it's just beginning. When I whisper my next words and cup her cheek, bringing her insatiable lips to mine once more, my cock is hard against her thigh.

“Love you more than forever itself. Because I can't figure out where it ends and we begin. Not anymore, and that's how it'll stay.”

* * *

When we wake up late in the afternoon the next day, it's noticeably cooler.

There's a soft summer rain breaking up overhead, the last of the dense grey clouds glowing out at sea. I follow her footprints in the sand down to the tiny old dock at the edge of my property. She's there in a plush white robe, sipping on a cup of coffee, more in the glass carafe next to her. Probably a gift from the servant I told to check up on us around noon.

“I slept through breakfast, and you slept through lunch,” she says with a smile. I take my seat next to her, throwing a possessive arm around her shoulder.

“My stomach isn't growling yet. I'm plenty hungry for something else, beautiful.” I pull not-so-subtly on my robe, revealing the outline of the hard-on I woke up with.

“I think I'll black out if we do it again without a sandwich or something!” She laughs, pushing me away. “My blood sugar can't handle this much sex.”

Love makes her a lucky woman. I'll give my dick a break from our seventh round for the next few hours.

“Let's go. There's a fridge stocked with good food we should make a dent in before our flight to Reykjavik tomorrow.”

“My hero,” she smiles, and gives me a peck. Tease. At least I had plenty of warning, knowing what I was marrying into. “I'm seriously excited. Haven't been on a real vacation that didn't involve work in years. Plus I'll probably be in Colombia next. It's nice to see a side of the world that doesn't leave us drowning in our own sweat.”

“If there's a room and a bed, Bekah, you'll still be soaked if you're with me.”

She sees my grin and elbows me. “God, you're relentless. Love makes weird choices, doesn't it?”

I don't disagree. I've almost stopped pondering how I wound up hitched to a feisty young honey more than ten years younger than me. Knowing she's mine is enough, and it makes me happy.

I walk her back to the house, arm in arm. She sits by the big bay window in the kitchen as the sun slowly materializes. My boy, Jack, jumps on the counter, watching me make double decker pastrami sandwiches with ham and fancy cheeses.

The cat steals a slice of meat before I shoo him down. I let the little ankle biter have his way since it's our wedding, after all.

I take the chair next to her. We tuck into our sandwiches, hungrier than I thought.

The afternoon snack was a good idea. I'll be ready to carry her to bed and tie her there until whatever the hell time our plane leaves tomorrow.

“We missed our first sunrise as newlyweds,” she says, finishing her food, a pout tugging at her lips. “Kinda disappointing.”

“There'll be another, moscato. No despair allowed.” I grab her hand, and we both look out the window again.

As if on cue, the lovely start of a long Maine sunset bleeds through the broken clouds. It's a bright orange preview of Iceland, the mornings and evenings sure to light up the windswept mountains, an earth song to love itself.

For the first time in forever, this crazy thing doesn't feel rushed. We've got time to love.

New heat reddens her cheeks when I lift her hand to my lips, laying down a kiss on her skin. The look she gives me says she's about ready to see to that other hunger with her belly fed.

But before I haul her sweet ass upstairs, I take the fresh wine I haven't touched, gently lifting my glass. I wait for her to join me. “To another sunrise, moscato. We'll have a new one tomorrow, when we're sore, sated, and ready for take off. Then we'll have twenty thousand more. We do our job, we keep this love alive, and we'll have them forever.”

“Forever,” she echoes. I swear the passion brimming in her eyes is hotter and more heartfelt than ever.

We drain our wine, and then I pick her up with a smile, throw her over my shoulder, and carry her upstairs.

I'm new to this husband gig, but I'm catching on. Easy when I love it as much as I do.

I dwell on how lucky I am until our robes are off, and we sink down into the huge antique bed where I claimed my beautiful wife for the very first time.

Then, I show her how long and amazing forever can be.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed Grant and Bekah's story! Read on for another novel included with this edition, Stepbrother UnSEALed.