Page 17 of Lock 'em Down

Leif arches an eyebrow and shuffles closer.

My breath hitches as he bends his strong body over mine. And I bow into him, knowing he won’t break me, knowing he’ll shield me. How the hell do I know that?

Before I can figure it out, my thoughts scatter.

Because Leif kisses me, and it’s filled with awe. Reverence. A brand of something I’ve never tasted before, and I don’t want to lose.

When he pulls back, our eyes hold for a long moment. Promises are made. Commitments are created. Trust, established.

“Do you want a picture?” the minister asks, interrupting our moment.

“Hell yes,” I gush, passing him my phone.

Leif and I pose like goofballs, smiling or making silly faces for a few snaps before Leif swings me up in his arms, holds me tightly against his chest, and strides back down the aisle.

I giggle. “Are you seriously going to carry me back to the hotel?” My hotel is at least a twenty-minute walk from here.

“I am,” he declares, stepping out into the early morning. “My hotel is on this street. And I can’t wait to get you alone.” He glances down at me and grins wolfishly. “Wife.”

Wife. I shiver from that word in that tone.

At the severity of Leif’s jaw, the strength of his arms holding me up, the quickness of his stride, I know he’s experiencing the same impatient need that’s circulating in my bloodstream.

“You know, we didn’t have to get married to have sex,” I joke lightly as we enter the lobby of his hotel. I glance around quickly but no one is paying attention to us. This is hardly an interesting scene in a Vegas hotel at three in the morning.

Leif snorts and maneuvers my body weight to jab the button for the elevator. “This isn’t just sex, Cam.” His voice is low and rumbly. His eyes flash to mine. “And it’s not just for tonight.”

Oh my.

My cheeks heat, my guy grins, and the elevator—blessedly—arrives.

Everything after that is a blur.

The sound of Leif’s hotel door closing behind us. The grandeur of his hotel suite wraps around us like a cocoon as I step out of my heels and stretch my toes in the soft rug in the living room. The both of us rattling off messages to our friends that we’re fine—better than fine.

“The guys must be out or sleeping,” he mutters when no one pops their heads into the common space to say hello.

And then, Leif’s hand slips across the small of my back. I turn into his arms and wind my arms behind his neck.

“You ever been married before?” I whisper. Clearly my priorities are messed up because I should have asked him this earlier.

“Never,” he swears.

And that little thrill in my limbs grows and dances.

Leif scoops me up and relocates us into his bedroom. He closes the door behind us and peels off my shirt. I lift my arms so he can remove it, toss it on the floor behind me.

I work the buttons on his shirt and push the fabric off those strong shoulders. My fingers trail down the ridges of his abdomen—an entire freaking mountain range. “You work out a lot.”

He chuckles and pops the button on my jeans. “You have no idea.”

My eyes lift to his. “Not yet. But I’m about to find out.” I’m about to get my world flipped upside down. But from this night with Leif and all the nights that come after, with my husband.

“Yeah, you are,” he agrees. Then, his mouth is on mine, his hands squeezing my waist.

I hitch forward into his frame and let his kiss swallow me whole. I don’t want to come up for reality. Or air. I want this—all of this—with him.

Leif coaxes my body into submission like he knows it intimately. His touch unravels my senses. He kisses me in a way that absolves my past sins and makes my future beam brightly.

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