Page 70 of Hannah's Truth

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” He wiggled his eyebrows and made her smile.

“Come on, Bart.” She tugged, but he wouldn’t relinquish her hand. “I have to be the first bride in history to cut a wedding cake after a takedown.”

“Good for you.”

“Those pictures will be awful.”

“They’ll be beautiful.” He bit back a suggestion that they could have a do-over after a real exchange of vows. Pushing her wouldn’t get him what he wanted. What they both needed.

She reached up and pulled the band out of her hair, sending the dark blond locks cascading past her shoulders.

“Come on.” He couldn’t stand it anymore, had to be close to her. Closer. “I like you in the shower.”

“Bart,” she gasped as he scooped her into his arms.

He carried her down the hall, through his bedroom and into the bathroom. Setting her on the countertop, he turned on the shower and then made a study of the long column of her neck, first with his hands, then his mouth. The faint scent of gunpowder lingered on her skin and her mouth was sweet with the flavors of coconut frosting and champagne.

“I need you.” It seemed the only relevant thing to say. Lifting the hem of her t-shirt, his thumbs grazed her warm silky skin.

She moaned, arching into his touch and it took all his concentration to remember the end game. The goal was more than this moment. He was playing for a lifetime of moments like this.

This time their clothes came off with more purpose and care, with more intensity. Her gaze was as tangible as her hands and the air was charged with a sensual heat that had nothing to do with the steam rolling from the shower. It was all her. Only her. A result of what she made him feel and long for.

He speared his hand into her hair and claimed her mouth, sweeping his tongue across hers again and again until they were both breathless. Her hands on his skin sparked across his nerves. His craving for her consumed him, made him want to rush when he needed to treasure.

“Shower,” he managed. “While the water’s hot.”

She hummed her assent and nipped his earlobe. Following her into the tub, he nudged her under the hot spray and watchedthe water flow over her lovely body. He washed her with all the tenderness he could sustain with the need to claim her surging through his system. “My God, you’re stunning,” he said against her wet skin.

“Same goes.”

Her hands cruised over his body and if he didn’t have her now, he wasn’t sure he’d survive between the next beats of his heart. “Hannah.”

She pressed to her toes and draped her arms around his shoulders as she fused her mouth to his. All thought evaporated as her body pressed against his. “I-I’m—” Her breath hitched and a smile trembled on her lips. “I’m yours, Bart.”

Leaning back, he stared into her heavy-lidded eyes gone dark with passion. It was enough. She wasn’t the type to want poetry or wax poetic and he knew he’d never please a woman who required such things. If that was all the declaration she could give right now, he’d accept it. Embrace it as a solid foundation to build on.

And build he did, worshipping her body with his, affirming his earlier declaration to her in ways mere words could not.

Later, he decided there was nothing as glorious as Hannah lost to desire and need. When she was tucked to his side and their breathing was almost back to normal, he continued to stare into the dark, thinking of his next move.

The engagement ring she’d admired had arrived yesterday and was secure in the office safe, but tomorrow was soon enough for a real proposal.

She shifted, her hand resting lightly on his chest. “Bart—”

“Hush.” He kissed her hair, then tipped up her chin to seal her lips with his, terrified she’d say the one thing he couldn’t bear to hear. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

***

Morning. That single word held so much promise. Hannah sighed. He was in love with her and the hope swelling inside her heart wouldn’t let her fall asleep. Morning seemed a lifetime away and yet she couldn’t wreck the perfection of right now with the facts and decisions they had yet to make.

She curled into him, utterly satisfied, his chest warm against her back and his arm pillowing her cheek. Perfectly content, she let her mind wander through the potential stretched out before them. It seemed fortune favored the bold. He loved her—as is. All her worries about obligation and commitment faded in the sweet reality of sharing her future with him.

Listening to his steady breathing, her mind drifted, stumbling across a new concern. What if her pregnancy changed his mind? Maybe he wouldn’t want to deal with another child. Kyle was older, almost a man. It had been years since he’d done the infant routine.

At least he had some experience. She didn’t have the first clue about motherhood, only that with her career she was the polar opposite of her own mother.

She didn’t think Bart would react poorly or feel pinned down by the news, but she didn’t know. He might be excited. Or the worst could happen and he’d feel obligated rather than thrilled down to his soul like she felt knowing her child was his. Regardless, this new hope wouldn’t be quelled. She couldn’t wait much longer to tell him. She just had to find the right time.

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