by Diana Gardin
Mine. My wife. My son. My family.
Her arms go around my neck, and I lift her into my arms as I finally claim her pretty mouth.
I can’t pull away, even when the applause, complete with whistles, starts. This is my wife. And it’s been almost ten years in the making.
She giggles against my lips as she pulls back. When she realizes I’ve walked us back up the aisle and straight to the patio, her cheeks flush with pleasure. “What are you doing?”
Instead of answering, I turn with Rayne in my arms and address our guests. “Everyone can get the party started. We’ll be back in a bit.”
My groomsmen nearly double over with laughter and I watch as Ronin and Olive grab Decker. Then I’m inside my house with my bride in my arms and heading up the stairs.
Kicking the bedroom door closed behind us, I place Rayne on her feet and stare down at her.
Her eyes are shining as she stares right back. “Jer…”
With a groan, I slam my lips against hers. She answers by digging her fingers into my hair and nipping at my mouth with a fervent intensity.
Backing her toward the bed, we crash down on top of the covers. Pulling away from her lips long enough to kiss a path down her jawline, Rayne moans beneath me.
“Easy,” she gasps. “This dress…is from…Paris.”
Lifting my head, I let my gaze peruse her body, taking in the fact that one of her straps has fallen to one side. Dragging the other one down, I push the silky-soft fabric down to expose my wife’s perfect set of tits. Licking a hot trail around one pebbly, dark nipple, I pull it into my mouth and suck.
Rayne’s fingers tighten in my hair to the point of pain, but it’s the kind of pain I’m starting to live for. Pulling one of her legs up and around my waist, I rock my aching, hard cock into her. Grinding against me, her moan almost drives me over the edge.
“Wife,” I whisper. “Sorry I pulled you away from your wedding reception. I needed to be inside you.” Switching to her other nipple, I bite down, smoothing out the sting with a caress of my tongue.
The skin of her bare thigh feels like satin against my fingers. As I stroke her heated skin, a scrap of lace against my fingers stills me.
Keeping my eyes on hers, I travel down her body, hiking her dress up around her hips so I can see the garter wrapping around her thigh.
“Fuck. That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” I admire the white lace, and let my eyes sweep her toned leg down to the gold heels.
“Jeremy.” Her voice is pleading, and my eyes flick back up to hers. “I need you…”
But she’s my wife, and I already know what she needs. Reaching up, I grip the thin straps of her underwear, drag them down her legs, and discard them. I watch her, fascinated, as I trail my fingers up her thigh and through the soaking wet folds of her sex.
“Goddamn, darlin’. Wet as fuck. My wife wants me.” Gravel in my voice, I let my tongue follow the path my fingers took.
At the first breath of my mouth against her pussy, she arches off the bed, and I grab her hips to still her while I lick a path around her clit. When I push two fingers inside her and draw them out slowly before plunging them back in, she cries out.
“Jeremy! Oh, God.”
Swirling my tongue around the most sensitive part of her again and again, and finding a regular rhythm with my fingers, I’m torturing myself just as much as I’m pleasuring her. My cock strains against my pants, and the thought of sinking inside her turns my hands rough and needy.
When her walls start to quiver and clench around my fingers, I pull back and lick my lips. “Not yet, baby. Not until I’m inside you. Raw.”
She gazes at me through heavily lidded lashes. “No condom?”
Going still, I gaze up at her with my hands still squeezing her hips and the taste of her lingering on my tongue. This is a big deal. I know she isn’t on the pill. She told me that she’s never had a reason to be, which only made me want to beat my chest with pride. “Is that okay with you?”
Standing, I unbuckle my belt and loosen my pants. Rayne scoots forward on the bed, making me smile at how mussed her hair is now. She begins to unbutton my shirt with swift fingers. When she’s finished, I push my pants and boxer briefs down in one movement, toeing off my shoes and kicking the pants aside. As my erection finally springs free Rayne’s eyes go dark with desire as she stares. Not bothering to pull off my open button-down, I gently push her back on the bed and hover over her.
“Okay with me? What if I get pregnant?” Her eyes search mine, nerves showing on her face as she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth.
Bending down to pull her lip into my own mouth, I suck on it until she moans. “Making a baby with you…getting to do it all right this time, from the beginning? God, Rayne…That sounds like the best fucking idea in the world.”
Sliding her arms around my neck, she lifts her hips until the tip of my cock is pushing against her entrance. And where normally I would slam into her without pause, I take a second and breathe her in.
Her scent, always sweet floral mixed with the slightest hint of sassy spice, overwhelms me. Lowing my head to her chest, the powerful and rapid beating of her heart astounds me. And when I press my mouth to hers as I slowly press inside her, the connection of not just our bodies, but also our lives and our hearts and fuck, our souls.
I’m about to make love to Rayne for the first time as her husband, and I’m going to savor it like I never have before.
Her eyes wide open, staring into mine, our bodies closer than they’ve ever been, the expression in them tells me that she knows exactly what I’m thinking and feeling.
When I’m buried to the hilt, she wraps her legs around my waist, taking me even deeper into her heat, and we both groan with the pure bliss.
“You’re amazing.” My rough whisper blows across her lips, and her lips curve into a smile.
“I love you.” Her simple words urge me to move faster, and I catch her gasp and kiss her. My tongue plunges into her mouth the same way my cock dives into her heat, deliberate and slow and loving.
When she tightens around me, her body pulsing and milking and quivering, my heart rate actually speeds up. Like I’m some teenage kid who’s never done this before. The thought of pleasuring my wife, of making her come, of making her scream my name, is driving me over the edge and I can’t hold back anymore. Pulling out of her, she whimpers in protest until I grasp the nape of her neck and pull her up until she’s straddling my lap. Pressing her forehead against mine, she hovers above me, and my balls draw up tight with my impending release.
“Rayne,” I choke out. “Ride me until you come, darlin’.” Not knowing if I can hold out much longer, I lift her and set her down hard on my cock to get her started.
Not needing any more direction than that, my wife whips into action, riding me hard, her face lapsing into an expression of ecstasy that I can’t stop watching. Her head falls back, her hands tangle in my hair, and her gorgeous tits bounce against my chest. I can feel the pressure building low in my gut, my abs tightening and my fingers digging into her hips.
“Oh, God!” she yells, and when she grinds into me, swiveling her hips as she comes apart, I can’t hold out anymore.
“Fuck,” I growl as I bury my head in her neck and shoot my release inside her.
Both of our bodies are slick with sweat, and I catch her as she starts to fall backward against the pillows. Following her down, I pull her to my chest and concentrate on taking deep breaths.
“Ohmygod, Jer…we just left our fucking wedding to have sex.”
When I glance at her, I smirk to see her hands covering uncontrollable giggles.
“Wrong. I carried you out of our wedding so I could make love to my wife. Totally acceptable. Are you ready to go back?”
She rolls onto her stomach and props herself up on her elbows. My eyes stray to her full, heavy breasts, and I can’t stop my finger from reaching out to stroke them.
Her eyes track my movements.
“I love you, husband. I’m ready to go back if you promise me you’re going to make love to your wife again later.”
Staring up at the woman who now commands my world, I nod. “Absolutely.”
Easiest fucking promise I’ve ever made.
Please turn the page for a preview of
the next book in the Rescue Ops series,
Promise to Defend.
Ronin
The sky above me is deep purple, especially beautiful tonight with the generous dotting of stars. There are no clouds to block the glittering specks of light overhead, and I appreciate the view more than I usually would.
Tonight is a celebration of love, something I avoid if I can.
The crisp North Carolina night hugs the wedding guests as they twirl around the dance floor or congregate at the tables, talking and laughing with one another like they don’t have a care in the world. I spot the members of my team at Night Eagle Security gathered at one, and my gaze roams over the group as they burst into raucous laughter.
They’re enjoying their night. The thought almost makes me smile.
As Jeremy Teague’s best man, I’ve enjoyed myself, too. The process of watching him fall in love with his high school sweetheart all over again has been nothing but a pleasure. He never thought it would happen for him, thought he and Rayne were over a long time ago. When she strolled back into town with their eight-year-old son in tow, Jeremy about lost his mind.
I was proud of the way he stepped right into that father’s role like it was easy. Like becoming a parent to a son you previously knew nothing about was a cakewalk. I knew it wasn’t, but for him the choice was clear. He wanted that life with Rayne and Decker.
And now he has it.
My eyes find them, swaying on the dance floor. Rayne’s head rests on Brains’s—the nickname he earned as a gadgets guru on our private security team—shoulder while his hands wander up and down her back. It looks like they move as one unit, and I know that now everything will be different. She’s his number one partner in life now, not me. And that’s how it should be.
If I ever thought there was a chance I’d have it again myself, I’d take it.
But some people only get that kind of opportunity, that kind of pure, unequaled love, once in a lifetime.
I already had mine.
My gaze sweeps toward the sound of giggling, not far from the newlywed couple. I zero in on a flash of dark red hair pulled to the side, exposing a creamy expanse of graceful neck. Olive Alexander, Rayne’s sister, twirls Decker around in a circle, and then ducks as he does the same for her. They’re both grinning like mad, and her dark, midnight-blue eyes sparkle in the moonlight. White, glowing paper lanterns all around the yard mingle with the twinkling lights strung from the trees and the effect it has on Olive takes my fucking breath away.
I study the pair for a moment. Olive takes both of Decker’s hands as the band launches into a lively tune and the silliness she gives him suits her. I’ve met Olive a handful of times, and even though her beauty always stunned me, I never took her for the laid-back, silly, hands-on-aunt type.
Apparently, I’d been wrong.
Two deep dimples appear in her cheeks as she drops her head back and laughs at something the kid did, and I find myself lost in a sea of thoughts. How often does she smile like that? When will she be leaving to go back to Europe? Has she always had those goddamn dimples?
“She’s pretty.” A soft, matter-of-fact voice reaches me, and I glance to the side and down to see that Sayward Diaz has crept up beside me.
I take her in, appreciating the utterly different way she’s chosen to appear tonight. I’ve only ever seen Sayward in a pair of jeans and sneakers with a hoodie. Tonight she chose to forgo her usual uniform and wears a simple turquoise dress that sweeps the ground at her feet. Thin spaghetti straps arch over her shoulders, and the curves she apparently rocked underneath the jeans all this time are now on display as the dress hugs her body. The bright blue color sets off her skin tone that’s so similar to mine, deep tan like toasted almonds. Her thick black hair is pulled off her face and tied into a loose knot at the nape of her neck.
“You look good tonight, Diaz.” I catch her eye, making sure she knows I mean it.
Sayward acknowledges my compliment with a shrug. “I know. Everyone is supposed to dress up for a wedding, right? I bought this today.” She fingers the soft material of her dress, and I bite back a smile.
Social graces aren’t really Sayward’s strong suit. She’s a legit computer hacker in her own right, and her skills can’t be beat by anyone. As a recent consultant for NES, she has a special relationship with its owner and boss, Jacob Owen, that none of us are privy to. But she’s easy to be around, and works her ass off, so I’d never complain about having her there.
“This is true.” I raise my bourbon to my lips and sip, appreciating the fiery path it burns down my throat. “But all the same…you’re rocking the shit outta that dress. Not every woman could.”
Now her eyes meet mine, like she’s only just figured out that I’m complimenting her. A small smile works its way onto her lips. “Thanks, Swagger.”
Lifting my chin at her in acknowledgment of my own NES nickname, I indicate the table where our friends are sitting. “Shall we?”
I hold out my arm, and she looks at it for a second like she’s wondering what to do with it before she finally slips her hand through and lets me lead her toward the table. I pull out a chair for her beside Dare Conners’s wife, Berkeley, and take the empty one opposite Grisham Abbot. His fiancée, Greta, grins at me.
“You taking all of this in, Ronin?” her sweet voice asks.
Shrugging, I down the rest of my drink and contemplate getting back up for a refill. “It was a good wedding.”
Berkeley leans over Dare to peer at me. “The boys of NES are dropping like flies, Ronin. Don’t tell me you never consider settling down.”
Dare stares at her. “His nickname is Swagger.”
I roll my eyes. “You know that has nothing to do with women.”
No, I earned my nickname for the confidence I carry when making a man scream like a crying baby at my mercy. My claim to fame? All the ways I can torture a man without actually killing him. Because in interrogation, the goal is always to make the prisoner talk. If he’s dead, he can’t talk. I have a magic touch in this area. Something I’m proud of? Maybe not. But afterward, I’m able to walk with my head high because what I’ve done furthers the greater good. And that’s something I can live with when my head hits the pillow each night.
Grisham, or Ghost as we call his stealthy ass, snorts. “Definitely has nothing to do with women.”
My team’s aware that I’ve already fallen. It’s just not something we talk about, and that’s my choice. It seems like a lifetime ago, now, but my heart went into the ground at the same time that my wife did.
Game over.
“I don’t think that whole happily-ever-after shit is for me.” I keep my voice low as I answer Berkeley’s question, averting my gaze.
Inside, my chest tightens, the feeling of my heart squeezing dangerously tight overwhelming me. The emotion, the grief and fury that I thought I had recovered from a long time ago, resurface and threaten to pull me under.
Immediately, Berkeley’s whiskey-colored eyes go all soft and gooey and her bottom lip disappears into her mouth. “You don’t know that. Everyone deserves love, Ronin.”
Shaking my head, I scan the ongoing party. If she thinks I deserve love, it’s because she doesn’t know the truth behind my story. I couldn’t protect my wife the first time around. Pretty sure guys like me don’t get a second shot. And I’ve accepted that.
I incline my head toward Brains and his brand-new wife, who are now standing beside a small table on the patio. Their faces are masks of utter concentration as they work together to guide a huge knife through a towering white cake. The crowd erupts in cheers when they succeed, and a photographer snaps their picture. I’ve never seen suc
h a look of pure, unadulterated joy on my best friend’s face. There’s a peace about him he never had before.
I’m saved from having to answer Berkeley when Decker throws his little body into my side. “Uncle Ronin! You gonna eat cake?”
Looking at him, I’m pretty sure his cheeks might split open from the size of his smile. The kid just got everything every other child in the world wants. His mom and his dad together under one roof. Holding out my fist, he bumps it and then we blow it up.
“Cake? Heck yeah, it’s a wedding, right? We gotta have cake.”
Decker nods, serious as a lethal injection. “Yeah. We gotta have cake.”
Olive saunters up behind him, leaning low over his shoulder to kiss his cheek. She pauses there, her deep, dark eyes meeting mine for a brief pause. I take the time to notice for the first time that there’s a dusting of freckles, delicate and sparse, sprinkling her nose and cheeks. That, combined with the dimples, the huge, deep-set eyes, and the striking color of her hair, are enough to keep me locked in her stare.
Rising, she doesn’t look away. “Hello, Ronin.”
Olive’s voice is a lot different from her sister’s. Where Rayne has one of those throaty, sultry voices that screams sex appeal without even trying, Olive’s voice is purer, sweeter. It makes me want to figure out all the ways I can dirty her up. I stand, holding Decker by the shoulders, and face her.
“Hey. Jeremy told me you’d be here for the wedding. How long you in town for?”
Her eyes go cloudy, and I zero in on her expression because something in it falters before she wraps it up tight and offers a strained smile. “Oh, um…I finished with the job in Paris a couple months ahead of schedule. My, uh, client…died. So, yeah. I’m back in Wilmington working out of our office here.”
I know that Olive is an interior designer, and that the firm she works for has international clients. It’s how she and Berkeley met, and how Rayne ended up working at Night Eagle when she arrived back in town. Beyond that, I don’t know much of anything about Olive. There’s something eating at her now, though. That much is obvious.