Bleak Ridge, Maine

Ryker had told her she could have their wedding anywhere she wanted. Jessica and Thorn were planning to get married in London on New Year’s Eve. Fiona and Slade had gotten married in Paris. Knowing that Ryker had planned a vacation trip for September playing an elaborate spy game through the capital cities of Europe, Lori had opted to time their wedding to use that trip as their honeymoon. Besides, fall in New England, and Maine in particular, was spectacular.

She’d wanted a wedding gown even though they had planned the ceremony and reception for their home, with just their friends and the other people in their lives. Her publicist had arranged for Lori to be able to use the same woman who photographed her cover models to take their wedding pictures. Several magazines had indicated an interest in covering the wedding as well, but Lori had insisted on Jean doing all the photography and being credited in the magazine. So, Lori justified spending the money on an elaborate colorful wedding gown to go with her vision.

Lori had chosen a flirty, floral, bohemian gown with a sheer bodice that had a bouquet of organic lace florals covering the sheer sleeves. It had a plunging neckline and a tiered skirt that gave the gown a shimmer in the filtered sunlight of the afternoon sky. She’d opted for ivory lace and organza over a mocha gown and tulle illusion. Ryker had opted for a tailored linen shirt, pressed jeans, a handmade belt, and cowboy boots.

The wedding was catered by the bistro where they’d had their first meal and was decidedly casual. They timed the ceremony with the incoming tide. They wanted to hear the sea crashing onto the beach and into the rocks below their home as the sun started to go down. The event planner had strung twinkling fairy lights all over the property and timed them to come on as the sun set. It was magical, laid back, and fun. Those who were in attendance pronounced it the best wedding and reception they’d ever been to, and that included Fiona.

Finally, she and Ryker were able to stand on the large front porch and wave to the last of their guests. Lori turned to lead Ryker inside, but he stopped her, spun her back to him and kissed her with a hungry and restrained passion she had sensed all day. That was no surprise; she’d been feeling the same way.

The space between them had been charged all evening with an electric current that had hummed every time their gazes locked or their hands accidentally brushed. They’d been playing a silly game of casual pretense and feigned lackadaisical indifference while desire simmered just beneath the surface. Ryker swept her up into his arms and carried her over the threshold, which struck her as silly given they lived together and went in and out of the door every day. Once inside the quiet sanctuary of their home, the game they’d been playing came to a crashing halt. Out there they were the Pulitzer Prize journalist and the rising star author of mystery novels. But inside? Inside they were just Ryker and Lori, who’d fallen madly in love and were now living their happily ever after.

He set her down, keeping her close as his hands found her waist with a certainty that made her heart race. “Ryker,” she sighed.

“Shh,” he whispered against her lips before claiming them in a kiss that set any and all hesitation and fatigue aflame, casting them away into oblivion.

She melted into him, the world narrowing down to the firm press of his body against hers. In his embrace, she found a newly found oasis of safety, and she allowed herself to sink into the feeling, to be enveloped by his strength.

“Come with me,” Ryker murmured, his voice rough with need as he took her hand and led her to their bedroom. Each step was a silent agreement, a mutual surrender to the hunger that had been simmering all day and was now about to erupt into a fiery passion that would rival the explosion of color in the trees surrounding their property.

In the intimacy of their bedroom, he turned to face her, the soft glow of the candlelit lanterns that decorated the room casting shadows across his features. His fingers trembled slightly as they brushed against her skin, peeling away layers of lace, tulle, and fabric until she was the way he preferred her—naked and needy.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, each word laced with awe. “You’re everything I didn’t know I wanted, Lori. And I will always want you.”

His confession was a balm to the scars left by past lovers who had never seen the real Lori. She didn’t need to be anything other than who and what she was. Laying her down upon the bed with reverent hands, Ryker did something she hadn’t expected—he kissed her belly, sending a flutter of butterflies dancing through her insides.

A shiver raced up her spine as he moved lower, parting her thighs with a gentleness that belied his fervent gaze.

“I’ve been dreaming about this all day,” he admitted, his breath hot against her skin. “Dreaming about getting you naked for the first time as my wife and tasting you on my tongue.”

As he explored her, devotion and desire merged with each caress. She realized that making love with Ryker was more than just a physical union. It was a baring of souls, peeling away the extraneous layers to reveal their most vulnerable selves in the best way they knew how.

Ryker’s hands were a soft whisper against her heated skin, grazing her nipples and sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. It was uncharted territory, his mouth working magic in a way no one had managed before. All of the exes in her life and their voices, laden with disdain for her curves, echoed in the recesses of her mind. Ryker’s actions spoke of worship, though, not revulsion.

“Ryker, maybe we should,” she began, her breath hitching as his tongue flicked over sensitive flesh.

“Shh,” he soothed, his hand splaying warmly on her belly. “Don’t think, just feel.”

He knew how to get her out of her own head better than anyone, whether it was overthinking their plans for the future or creating a story. He forced her into the here and now; he was her refuge, her solace, her heart, her soul; he was her everything, and he made her believe she was everything to him as well. No matter how many times they made love, it felt like the first time.

She let out a quiet moan as he silenced her doubts, her hands fisting in the sheets. The tension within her coiled tighter, each pull of his lips drawing her closer to the precipice of the abyss she had come to know so well. He was patient, methodical, and demanding in a relentless pursuit of her pleasure—a pleasure that until Ryker she hadn’t even known she was entitled to.

“Ryker,” she gasped, her voice breaking on his name.

“Let go, Lori,” he murmured between kisses, his voice raw with desire. “I want you to come undone for me.”

And she felt it, the build-up of something monumental. With shaky hands, he reached up, pinching her nipples, amplifying the storm brewing within her. The groan that rumbled from Ryker vibrated against her core, his approval stoking the fire even further.

“Ryker, I, I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” he assured her, his dedication to her pleasure unwavering.

The world narrowed down to the sensation of his mouth, the mastery of his touch, and the overwhelming certainty that she was about to shatter into a million pieces. And when the climax hit her, it was like a supernova inside her, dazzling and all-consuming. Her back arched off the bed, every muscle tensing as wave after wave of ecstasy ripped through her body.

“Ryker,” she cried, a testament to the wonder he had coaxed from the depths of her soul. It was amazing, a revelation that left her breathless and clinging to the remnants of earth-shattering bliss.

As the aftershocks of her climax subsided, Ryker’s movements became a languid crawl up her body, his skin scorching against her. Her hands found him, hard and insistent, and she wrapped her fingers around him. His breath hitched as she began to stroke, a rhythmic pull that matched the still-rapid beating of her heart.

He settled between her thighs. The head of his cock was poised at the entrance of her core.

“Stay with me,” she whispered into the quiet, her voice barely there but heavy with desire.

“Always,” he answered, his lips tracing the curve of her shoulder, sealing the vow as his cock thrust home.