“Oh my God, honey. No wonder Drake’s so smitten with you. You’re simply stunning.”

“Thank you.”

Uncertain what to do, I do nothing. Stand here and let her squeeze my trembling hand. Appraise me from head to toe. Try to smile. Not to fidget. Ignore the ache in my stomach. That she’ll hate me. That she’ll know I’m scared beyond reason she’ll tell her son that marrying me was a terrible mistake and he could do so much better. Or worse yet, that he’ll believe her.

I glance over at him, but his gaze is already on me. Watching me. Ready to swoop in and rescue me. Just like he promised. His sly wink warms me in places I shouldn’t be thinking about with his mother standing two feet in front of me. I can do this. I will do this. He’ll be proud of me. Proud that I’m his wife.

“Drake said you work at the animal shelter?”

“Yes, I coordinate the volunteers’ schedules to make sure the animals are fed and watered. They also help with other things like walking the dogs and cleaning out litter boxes.”

Her attention drifts to something behind me. Searching for something else. Someone else. She’s bored. I’m boring. Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking.

I start to step back. Time for me to escape before I make her opinion of me worse. “Thank you for having me, I mean us. I’m sure you’re busy with everything, so I’ll just‒”

“And your parents? They’re physicians, living abroad?”

Why didn’t she let me walk away? Heat flames in my chest, radiating out through my throbbing body. Well aware the direction her questions head. I take a deep breath. Failing to slow my racing heart. “Yes, they’re involved with international relief efforts, so they travel where the need’s the greatest. All over the world.”

“But what about you, honey?”

What about me? I often wonder the same thing myself.

“I was kind of a surprise…”

I smile brighter with all the humor I can feign. I never say accident. The truth makes everyone uncomfortable. Better to stick with jokes and laughter.

“So you lived with your grandparents?”

Posed like a question, but she knows. Otherwise, she wouldn’t dig. Wouldn’t make me defend them. Or our situation. I manage a small giggle and try to gloss over the awkward details I don’t like to share. That no one likes to hear. “After I was born they worked in an emergency room for a while, but it didn’t have the same rush I guess. So I stayed with my Mom’s friend but you know babies aren’t for everyone. Then I was with my grandmother until having a rambunctious toddler got to be too much for her. I lived with my aunt and uncle for a while, but they already had two children so I’m sure three kids was a handful. Then I was in foster homes until I turned eighteen and moved in with my best friend.”

I finally stop rambling and gesture to Trish. Blessed that she’s my sister-in-law now too. She’s so beautiful, glowing with her own happiness. My smile’s genuine this time, matching the grin lighting up her face while she talks to her new husband.

“So let me get this straight, you have living, healthy, self-sufficient parents and you ended up in foster care?”

Shame heats my face from her disgusted tone as I shrug. Pretending a nonchalance I don’t feel. I’ve been kicked around so long and so much I shouldn’t be offended. Nothing should bother me at all. But somehow her words still hurt. Piercing the hard shell I like to think I’ve built around myself. Yet, my fortress crumbles instantly when confronted with the harsh reminders of how unwanted I am.

“Well, they sound like fucking idiots to me.”

An embarrassing noise hiccups in my throat. Not sure if it’s a sob or laugh. Kind of both. So much like Drake I want to hug her. Instead I wrap my arms around myself.

“I’m glad you’re part of this family now. We’ll always take care of you.”

Tears burn my eyes, and all I can do is nod to keep them from trickling out. But they break free when she embraces me. Spilling hot and fast on my blazing cheeks from her consuming grip. No words could be more welcoming. Or terrifying. So close to being real I’m terrified to blink, or I’ll lose sight of this sanctuary that I pray is more than just a mirage.

“What the fuck? Why the hell is she crying?”

The rumble of Drake’s voice thunders next to me. Strong and fierce just like his mom. Who I can’t let him be angry with.

“They’re happy tears. I promise.”

Regardless of my assertion, he pulls me out of her arms and into his, swiping at the wetness on my lifted cheeks. Smiling at him yet failing to reassure him as his gaze scans over me looking for the reasons behind my distress.

“Patrice, what have you done to this poor girl?”

Much more jovial than Drake’s expression, his father Edward epitomizes restraint and an indulgence of his wife’s buoyant personality. His hand slides around her waist, drawing her closer. Still protective and loving after all these years.

A quick kiss brushes Edward’s cheek before she wags her finger at her son. “I was just telling her how furious I still am with you. You run off and have some tacky Elvis impersonator wedding without telling anyone, and I think I only get to meet her now because I’m throwing you this party. Were you planning on hiding her from us forever?”

Although I know she’s teasing, I have to defend Drake. He’s never been anything but wonderful to me, and she has to know how good her son really is. “It wasn’t like that I promise. We had a beautiful chapel with lots of flowers, and the minister was normal and really sweet.”

“I still say you deserve better.” She taps Drake’s forearm. Giving him a deep frown that reflects the true depth of her hurt feelings. “And you know better.”

“I’m sorry Mom.”

“I forgive you, but I’m going to make sure you feel guilty about it for the rest of your life.”

I laugh while he rolls his eyes, seemingly unsurprised. She must have a penchant for holding grudges.

“Come on Edward, I need some champagne.”

His Dad’s eyebrows fly up, wiggling at us in exaggerated fear. Alcohol is probably the last thing she needs with her agitation, but he doesn’t argue. Instead he nods to us and wraps his arm around hers, escorting her toward the expansive bar decorated with sparkling lights, cranberry calla lilies, and trays of pillar candles to match the rest of the ballroom. Already waving to another couple striding in their direction.

“You want to freshen up?”

Not a question. Need pounds in Drake’s voice stronger than my racing heartbeat from his lips on my ear. His body brushing mine in his craving to be closer. "Yes, please."

He tucks me against him. His possessive hand so tight on my waist pain radiates up my rib cage as we wind between the round tables and into the empty corridor. Reminding me this is my favorite place. With him. Alone.

We pass an endless line of closed doors in the main hallway of this historic resort. Finally stopping at a small cubby carved out of the corner. Providing privacy for personal calls. Coiled wires still visible from long gone wall phones.

He jerks the door shut behind him, shaking the window in its frame from the force, and lifts me to sit on the shelf. So overcome to watch this man, my husband, manic in his urgency to unbuckle his belt and slide down his zipper. Mesmerized by his hands disappearing under my dress. Wetness pools in my thong from his fingers driving up my thighs, spreading my legs apart for him. My panties rip off in one quick jerk, and he yanks me to him. Filling me up so fast and completely I almost explode, arching from the pleasurable invasion.

Yet, he stills. His broad shoulders droop under my hands. A deep breath rustling against my throat. Relief seeming to wash over him now that he’s inside me. His green eyes meeting mine with a worry he doesn’t have to bear.

"I'm sorry I didn't give you a dream wedding."

"A wedding isn’t my dream." His face falls, not understanding my meaning. I've hurt him. Which hurts me even more. The last thing I would ever do. "You are."

No more words. Just his mouth on my lips. His tongue in my throat. His hands in my hair. Kissing me hard and deep as he thrusts into me. I grip his jacket, holding on tight to withstand the force of his apology. My heart and my body soaring from his ferocious touch.

People can probably see what we’re doing. Figure out we’re making love behind the prismed glass. But I don’t care. Not about dignity. Or morals. Or class.

Just him. I have to give him what he needs. What I need. Assure him that I'm okay. We're okay. We’re together, and no one can separate us.

* * *

Something about her tears fucks me up. None of my usual irritation with women and their indulgent and overwrought hysterics. Because this – she – is real.

She deserves so much more than being fucked against a wall. But I couldn’t make it to our suite. Would never have lasted the elevator ride. Because when I’m inside her is when I know she’s mine. Exposed and defenseless. With all the bullshit falling away. It’s just me and her. With nothing getting in the way.

Petite fingers move from my waist to my cheeks. Cupping my face, watching me while I plunge into her. Heavy lids fighting against closing to keep the connection between us. Plump pink lips parting with sharp breaths encouraging me to drive harder and deeper. To bury myself in the only place I love. The only woman I’ve ever loved.

I can’t fucking help myself. My grip on her ass tightens, my fingertips digging into the delicate skin from the love and beauty and devotion staring into my eyes. Almost bringing me to my god damn knees with the brutal honesty shared between our bodies. Of the enormity of the feelings I cup in my hands. All mine. All for me.

Sweat rolls down my back. Dampening my dress shirt already plastered to my skin. Her sweet head nuzzling my shoulder while I pound into her, over and over like a fucking animal. Blind to everything but her. Oblivious to anything but my sunshine filling my vision.

“Infinity.”

Jesus Christ.

A whisper against my hair that makes me come. Hard, hot, pulsing streams that feel like hell melting heaven. She takes it all, squeezing my cock with her own climax. My name cried into my shirt right above her mark on my skin.

As soon as I can fucking think straight again, I wrap my arms around her. Holding her tight against my stupidity and selfishness from needing her so damn bad. Thank fucking god her grip on me is just as strong. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. But you win. You ruined me first.”

She snuggles deeper into my jacket. Her dress and hair be damned. Which doesn’t matter because she’s fucking gorgeous regardless of how messy she may be. “I’m sorry. But I couldn’t wait any more.”

“I know.” Her relaxed laugh blows on my throat. “I could kind of tell.”

Fuck me if she’s not incredible. “Do you know how much I love you?”

“Yes.”

No reluctance or doubt. Just pure acceptance. That I’ve wanted for too fucking long and finally have. Fuck me if I’m not god damn giddy that my wife finally trusts in my feelings for her. I kiss the top of her head, when really all I want to do is take her again. “Good. Now I better get you back, or my Mom will have my ass.”

“Okay.”

I swipe her destroyed panties from the carpet, captivated like a fucking idiot to watch her gently wipe our arousal from her thighs and pussy with the beige fabric. Too fucking dangerous for me to touch her again. I clean myself while she straightens her dress and slips pins into her hair, using the metal plate from the long-gone phone as a mirror. I sheath her back while she fights her stubborn curls. Still needing to be near her. Touch her for as long as I can. Probably in her fucking way while she works, but she doesn’t complain. Her blissful grin never wavering.

After a few minutes, she sighs and throws her hands in the air. Frustrated and so god damn achingly beautiful. “It’s fine.”

“It has to be. I can’t do anything else with it.”

“Then let’s go. I need a drink.”

Despite our efforts, we look and smell like sex. But I don’t give a damn. I love fucking my wife, and I don’t care who knows it. And with her radiant smile and sparkling eyes, I don’t think she does either.

Once inside the reception, I nod to the bartender. “Whiskey neat and a gin and tonic, on the rocks with lime.”

Her small hand squeezes mine with validation that I’m correct. But I don’t need her confirmation. I know what my girl likes and will make damn sure she always gets her favorite drink. As well as anything else she wants.

A joyous shriek bursts louder than the string quartet accompanying the cocktail hour. Trinity laughs and gestures toward my mom squeezing the shit out of my brother and sister-in-law. Her tears mimicking theirs.

“I guess they’ve shared their good news.”

She sets her glass on the table but before she can sit down, I pull her onto my lap. Next to me is too damn far away. I stroke over her knee. Well aware I shouldn’t go any higher or my cock will be poking her sweet little ass through my pants. Nodding toward Trish and Noah, I nuzzle her neck. “That will be us soon.”

“You think so?”

I fucking love the anticipation in her voice. My dick stirs up anyway despite my precautions. I can’t fucking wait to have my baby in her belly. “Yeah, I think you’ll have my son by this time next year.”

“How do you know it’ll be a boy?”

So fucking cute when she challenges me. “We only have boys. All the way back to family records in Scotland. Deveraux men only produce boys.”

She shakes her head. The smile, I’d give up all my money to always see, covers her beautiful face. “I bet I can give you a girl.”

“A bet, huh?” Her arms slide around my neck, and she twists to snuggle closer. Her amazing tits shoved against my chest. Her seductive mouth inches from mine. So close I can almost taste her goodness. “Terms?”

“If I win, I get to tattoo your name on me anywhere I want.”

Although I don’t think I can stand watching her suffer the pain of the needle, her desire for my brand on her skin is sexy as hell. Just like her. Which is the other reason I have her sprawled across my legs. Checking to make sure no one is paying any attention to us, I slide my hand under her dress. A long caress along her toned legs before I slip down between her thighs and stroke the moisture covering her sweet pussy, just barely accessible with the tight fabric stretched across her hips. I keep my other hand curled around her waist, preventing her from arching up in pleasure while she bites her lip. “And if you lose?”

“I - I’ll get it anywhere you want.”

“Deal.” I dip inside and fucking love her eyes sinking shut. The hard shudder driving me farther in. “Do you want to shake on it? Because I’m more than willing to make our agreement official. But then I’d have to quit pumping my fingers buried so perfectly knuckle deep inside your wet pussy.”

“N-no.”

Fuck me she’s going to come right on my hand. Riding me as much as she can manage with me holding her in place. I shoot a quick glance toward the stage. Everyone still focused on my brother, while I’m utterly absorbed in my wife. “No what, sunshine?”

“Don’t stop…”

She fists my shirt, twisting the linen as she climbs higher and higher. I slide in one more finger and tease her clit mercilessly. Making her buck even harder against my palm. “Nothing’s more fucking magnificent than watching you get off. Come for me Trinity.”

One hard press with the pad of my thumb, and she explodes. Her arousal dripping over my fingers, probably leaving a huge spot on my pants. Which I don’t give a damn about after seeing her beautiful release. Jerking one more time against my forearm pushed against her stomach before collapsing, her head falling to my shoulder. Panting breaths warm my skin, already blazing from watching her in ecstasy. Only an appetizer before I take her upstairs to really celebrate our marriage.