Grayson’s lips are against my neck, then his tongue. He is trailing that hot, wet tongue slowly, too slowly, up my neck to the back of my ear, where he captures my lobe with his teeth and tugs slightly.

When a moan escapes my mouth, he chuckles.

“I have to finish this menu,” I sigh out. “Two days, Grayson, two days until my best friend marries your brother.”

“I’m not stopping you, sweetheart,” he says, tongue licking lazily down my neck.

“You are distracting me,” I say as I squeeze my thighs together slightly, trying to dull the burn between my legs caused by one Grayson Falcon, sexiest man alive.

“I’m just here, Mandee.”

I look back over my shoulder at him and try my best to give him a scolding look.

He smirks, leaning back against the log headboard of our cabin and linking his hands behind his head, popping his pecks.

Ink, nipple piercing, lips, and then those eyes. This is the common path my eyes take when I take in my lover. My heart’s smile. My man, Grayson Falcon.

He smirks, nodding. “Get back at it.”

Easy for him to say.

I force myself to turn around and focus back on the list in front of me. I want to look back, but I don’t.

Gage wants to marry Phoenix in the barn. Grayson, Garrett, and Brand have built more benches, like the ones used at Juliana and Garrett’s wedding, to accommodate the one hundred and twenty guests, mostly Phoenix’s parent’s friends. It’s no Stone Country Club, but it will be beautiful.

Wagon wheels will hang from the beams, with flameless flickering candles sitting on top of them, and lilies. Gage insists on lilies being placed everywhere. We have used old wooden wheelbarrows, galvanized milk cans, and even bushel baskets to fill the large barn with red and white lilies.

The stage built for Garrett and Juliana’s wedding has been repurposed and changed slightly for them to stand in front of everyone to exchange their “I do’s.” An arbor, built with beams, made to looked older than they are, has been added, one in which Gage insists on building himself.

He wants it simple. He wants it raw and strong looking, adding the lilies for beauty.

I feel Grayson push my hair away from my neck and over my left shoulder. Then his lips, soft and wet, are against my skin.

“Sweetheart, it’s all good,” he says, gripping my hips and giving them a squeeze.

“But there has to be more,” I say, unable to get it through my over-planning head that it took less than a day to get it all worked out and it’s perfect absolutely perfect. I know Phoenix is going to love it.

“Does there?” he asks, skating his hand around my waist.

I laugh, and not because it tickles, but because he groans when he touches the part of my body I hate the most.

“So sexy. So fucking sexy,” he whispers as he moves his hands slowly up.

I grab them before he gets to my chest. “I have to—”

“You have to believe that everything is gonna come as easy as ours, yours”—he kisses my neck—“and my …” He moves his hands up.

I give in and lean back against his hot and hard body, fully expecting his hands to grab my boobs, but they don’t.

Both land over my heart.

“… Love. It’s that easy, sweetheart.”

“I want it to be perfect,” I tell him. “I want her wedding day to be perfect.”

“I know,” he says, leaning us both back. “And I know it will be.”

“The minister hasn’t responded.” I sigh and take his hands from my heart, pushing them down to my boobs.

His chest vibrates in silent laughter as he squeezes them.

“Tell me what your, Mandee Carlin’s, idea of a perfect wedding is,” he says, gently rubbing his thumbs over my nipples.

“Much different now,” I admit. “Reception at the bar. I love it.” I look back into his smiling eyes. “And you for all you’ve done to make it exactly what I wanted, but better.”

“For the rest of my life, I’m gonna be doing whatever I can to show you how fucking easy love can be for two people meant to be together.”

He leans in, and I am sure he’s going to kiss me. I close my eyes, ready for it to happen. I open them when I feel his body against mine, but no lips touching.

He grabs his phone from the nightstand and leans back. Then he hits a number and holds the phone to his ear.

“Mags, you got a few minutes to do me a favor?” he asks with such sweetness in his voice it makes me smile.

I don’t know what she says, but he laughs. I can only imagine it was a yes.

“Get on that laptop of yours and get ordained,” he tells her then laughs. “Yeah, Mags, love you, too. Need any help, buzz me back.”

When he hangs up, he sets his phone back on the charger, leans back, and links his hands behind his head. His smile falls a bit, and then he takes in quick breath.

For a moment, I’m confused by the way he’s looking at me, like he’s nervous, but that quickly vanishes. His eyes leave mine, moving down my body, and a sexy, cocky smirk forms in the corners of his beautiful mouth.

“Tell me about your dream wedding.”

“Grayson, you’ve been torturing me, trying to get my attention”—I allow my eyes to cast down to my boobs, showing clear evidence of excitement—“and now you want to talk about my idea of a perfect wedding?”

He gives one quick nod. “That’s right.”

“I have the ring.” I hold up my engagement ring. My mom’s solitaire that Grayson enhanced with many more diamonds. “I never knew how much I needed this.” I flop back on the bed and close my eyes.

He chuckles. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to picture my perfect wedding,” I tell him. “Can’t imagine anything more perfect for me than you, so I’m closing my eyes, trying to block out the man who came into my life, the most handsome I have ever seen. Block out the man who has made me feel more beautiful than I’ve ever felt in my life, to try picturing what on earth it would take to top just an average, ordinary day with the person I know was sent to me from heaven.”

I hear him move, and then the bed dips beside me. He takes my hand and whispers, “Try to top that.”

“Not possible,” I whisper back.

“Glad you think so, but seriously, give it a shot. Please.”

Please was said with a hand squeeze and a tone that was a quiet plea.

With his hand holding mine, I try to give him an answer.

Finally, I answer with the most honest one I can come up with. “All my life, I imagined having a love like my parents’. I imagined it as best I could.” I giggle uncomfortably. My answer is so odd, yet so very true. “I imagined that day would be the day I would dress up, looking like a princess. Everyone would think I looked beautiful. Everyone would get choked up by how beautiful an event it was. How pretty the flowers, how stunning the dress, how handsome the groom.” I squeeze his hand. “Thinking on it now, it was going to be the best day of my life, one none other could compare to.” I open my eyes to see his head is resting on his hand as he gazes down at me sweetly, lovingly. “It’s almost as if that day is the day you are in the spotlight. It feels almost”—I scrunch up my nose—“staged.”

He smiles, encouraging me to continue.

“At first, when watching my best friend and watching her smile at her mother while planning via Facetime, then hanging up and looking utterly frustrated, I was so confused. My emotions kicked in. I put myself in her place and thought: what wouldn’t I give for my mom to be here with me, planning the best day of my life?”

“I’m so sorry, Mandee. I’d do anything to make that happen.”

I nod. “I know. But if she was, I’d probably act just like Phoenix. I mean, she doesn’t know half the people who are coming, and ninety percent of them, she isn’t close with. I understand her frustration. The happiest I’ve seen her is last week when they applied for their wedding license.”

“And we did, too.” He smiles. “Means we have six months to plan.”

“Don’t you dare say the best day of my life.” I smile. “The best day of mine, of a girl’s life, is the day she’s promised forever to with the person who is”—I swallow hard—“everything. You’re everything. Every day with you is the best day, so I don’t care about the day we say it or where we say it.” I laugh as the tears fall, and he smiles slightly, his eyes full of care and understanding. “You and I could get married in the middle of the lake, on top of the bar, right here, right now, and although taking your name will be the best choice I’ve ever made for me—”

“Made for you?” he interrupts with a slight smirk.

“You were sent to me from heaven, Grayson Falcon. No question in my mind. You were made for me.”

“It’s true. And you, Mandee soon-to-be Falcon”—he leans in and rests his forehead against mine—“were made for me.” He kisses me softly, gently, sweetly.

When he pulls back, he starts kneading my breast. “Used to get pissed at the bar when guys checked you out.”

“And now?”

“Still annoying as fuck,” he sighs out. “But you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” I smile.

“That’s fucking right,” he says before bending down and taking my boob in his mouth.

“Finally,” I moan.

He grips my wrists and holds them over my head, then takes them in one hand, holding them still as he sucks on my nipple, one then the other.

With his free hand, he pulls at my leggings. I lift my ass, and they come down.

He lets my breast drop from his mouth. “Hands up above your head. Don’t move them.”

His voice is authoritative, and I love it. I love that he controls our bodies. It makes me feel even more …

“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he says, pushing himself to his knees beside me.

Beautiful, I think, watching him pull my pants the rest of the way, eyes raking over my entire body. The way he looks at me, the way his jaw tenses, and then how he licks his lips, the way he so unmistakably desires me … I feel beautiful.

Me.

He holds my legs up, moving until he’s kneeling in front of me. His hard, strong, beautiful body holds my legs against his chest.

He kisses and licks my ankle, then the other, before spreading me widely, completely baring me fully to him.

His eyes close tightly for but a moment, and he lets out a slow growl before opening them.

They are hooded, dark, and he again licks his lips before bending down and lifting me by my ass, burying his face between my legs.

“Oh, oh, oh, Gray,” I cry as he sweeps his tongue up and down my opening, then thrusts in and out repeatedly, until finally the tight bud of nerves becomes his next target.

He circles his tongue then sucks, and I come. I come hard, so hard I forget his instruction to leave my hands above my head and grip his hair as my hips thrust against his mouth.

He looks up at me as pushes a finger inside. “That’s one.”

With those words, with the way his eyes are wild with want, with the way he licks his lips that are glistening with my wetness, there is a promise of more, so many more.

“Starved,” he groans before he begins again.

I grip the headboard and arch my back, no longer trying to hold back my next orgasms as I rub against him, hungry for the one pending and the ones to come.

Lost in feeling, and love, and touch, and sensation, I hear him pant, “That’s four.”

“I want you,” I beg. “I want you inside me. Please.”

He pushes himself up and grips his massive cock, stroking it slowly while looking between my legs. He positions himself, and my core tightens with anticipation, or the overwhelming fullness that is about to consume me.

He rubs his cock up and down my pussy, coating himself with me.

“Absolutely beautiful,” he moans on a whisper. Then he taps the head of his cock against my clit. “Mine.”

“Forever,” I whimper.

“Nothing less.” He rubs his head up and down me, still watching his body touching mine in the most beautiful way. “Gonna fuck you.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

Something in the way I say it forces him to look up at me.

“I love you, Mandee.” He slams fully inside of me.

My breath is totally and completely gone, and then stills.

He leans down, placing a light kiss to my lips, and reminds me, “Breathe, beautiful.”

Finally, I do.

He slides nearly all the way out of me then stops. “Shit.”

I watch his body tense.

“Make love to me, Grayson,” I whisper.

He pushes in slower this time, then kisses my lips and swivels his hips. He finds a perfect pace. Our bodies work together, slower, eye to eye, skin to skin, breath to breath.

He rolls us so I am now on top of him. His hips buck as he grips mine, holding me still. His eyes are glued to mine as I start to rock back and forth, our bodies once again finding the perfect pace.

“So fucking beautiful,” he groans as he thrusts. “Lean back.”

I rest my hands on his thighs as he pushes my thighs farther apart.

“Wanna fucking eat it,” he hisses as he pushes his thumb against my clit. “Consume you like you consume me.”

“You have!” I cry, trying to close my legs when I feel another orgasm building.

He holds them apart, thrusting his hips up. “Fuck yes. Fuck. Yes.”

He moves faster, driving deeper, and then I feel him expand inside of me then still.

I know he’s going to come, and I want him to.

I rock harder, faster.

His eyes widen in wonder. His head falls back. “Oh, fuck!”

As his body jerks, his cock pulses as he lets out a growl, coming inside me.

I rock one more time and follow him into what I now know is ecstasy.