Page 38 of Accidentally Marrying the Billionaire

"Mike," she breathes against my mouth.

"I've wanted this since Vegas," I admit between kisses. "Since you walked out of that bedroom in that ivory dress."

She keeps one hand around my neck while the other works on my belt. I should slow down. I should be patient. But when it comes to this woman—my wife—I am helpless.

"Fuck, you're sexy. You know that, right? You're so goddamn sexy it's been torture sleeping so close to you and not touching you the way I’ve wanted to.”

"I want you inside me," she says breathlessly, then immediately covers her face with her hands. "Oh God, I can't believe I just said that out loud."

I gently pull her hands away. "Hey. No hiding from me, wife."

Her eyes flare at the word, and she gives me that grin—the one that first hooked me in the chapel. She takes my hand and pulls me into our bedroom. “Take off your clothes, husband. We'll go slow next time."

She pulls her shirt over her head, and I'm momentarily distracted by her curves. Full breasts practically spilling out of a simple cotton bra—nothing fancy, nothing trying too hard, and somehow sexier than anything I've ever seen.

"You're staring," she says, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

"I'm appreciating." I strip off my own clothes, tossing them over the chair. "There's a difference."

She watches me, her gorgeous green eyes darkening as she takes in my body. Her teeth catch her bottom lip—that thing she does when she's nervous or thinking too hard—and she releases a shaky breath.

"Wow," she says. "You're like... wow."

I laugh, pulling her into my arms. "Eloquent."

"Shut up. I teach kindergartners. My vocabulary peaks at 'wow' and 'use your walking feet.'"

God, I love that she can make me laugh even now, when I'm harder than I've ever been in my life. I reach behind her and unclasp her bra, pulling it off in one motion.

She stands there, motionless and staring at the wall behind me.

"You're overthinking," I murmur against her neck. "I can hear it."

"I'm not⁠—"

"You are." I walk her backward toward the bed. "You're wondering if you're doing this right. If I'm comparing you to someone else. If this is a mistake."

She goes quiet, and I know I've hit the mark.

I ease her down onto the mattress and hover over her, brushing hair from her face. "Here's what I'm actually thinking: I'm thinking about how I've wanted to kiss this spot"—I press my lips to her collarbone—"every time it peeks out of your shirts. Or mine. I’m thinking about how you make happy noises when you’re about to eat something tasty. And how it makes me want to bend you over the kitchen counter. I'm thinking about how you are the furthest thing from boring I've ever met."

"Mike..."

"You are fucking extraordinary." I kiss my way down her body. "And I'm going to spend the rest of tonight proving it."

I settle between her thighs, pressing kisses along the soft skin there. She's trembling, and not from cold.

"Can I tell you something?" I ask, looking up at her.

"Right now?" She laughs, breathless.

“Yes, and before I say it, I will also promise, this is the last time I will bring him up. If you want to discuss something, we’ll do it, but for me, he is a blip.”

“Okay. Go ahead,” she says.

“You said Kurt was predictable. Tuesdays and Sundays, same position, no orgasms for Evelyn." I drag my nose against her center through her panties. "That ends tonight."

Her hips buck. "You remembered that?"