Page 108 of Winning Bid

Anderson brushes his lips over mine. It was almost not a kiss—it could have been a dream. But then he presses his cheek to my temple, and his voice goes thick with emotion as he says, “I can’t believe we’re finally married.”

I breathe him in, happy and satisfied with our decision to get married today. But that’s my only satisfaction at the moment. My husband is a living wall of muscle beneath his nice suit, and I want to tear every stitch of clothes from him. But he seems to need a moment for this to become real in his mind, so I stand there on the precipice of lusty madness. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

He pulls back to look me in the eyes. “Even in my wildest dreams, you wanted nothing to do with me.”

My heart swells with hurt for him. I cup his handsome face in my hands. “Then you should have dreamed bigger.”

He laughs and kisses me for real this time, his arms wrapping me against him. The heat of his body pours through me, and he nibbles down from my lips to my throat as he grabs my ass over my dress. He murmurs, “I didn’t know they were allowed to make wedding dresses this sexy.”

“Glad you like it, husband.”

He growls at that, picking me up with my legs around his waist. Thank god for the slit up the thigh, or he would have ruined my wedding dress, and I might have lost the mood over it.

No. No, I wouldn’t have. Not with Anderson West kissing me.

One day, when I’m feeling particularly brave, I’ll ask how it is that no one else tried to marry him. It still boggles my mind that he was ever single in his adult life. He’s too handsome. Too rich. Too perfect.

Maybe every wife feels that way about her husband. At least they should get to on their wedding day.

He carries me to the bedroom and sets me on the corner of the bed before he stares into my eyes while he strips down to his skin. It’s a hell of a show, and I’m tempted to make a bad joke about wishing I had some cash to throw at him. But the look on his face dissolves all humor from me. It’s intense and devoted. Absolute adoration.

When he’s completely naked, he’s hard, too, but I don’t grab for him there, no matter how much my mouth waters to taste him. Instead, I stand up and turn so he can unzip me. He kisses my neck as he does it, and I get chill bumps all over. The gown slides down my skin like a silken kiss. Anderson’s lips trail down my shoulder as he unclips my bra from behind.

I’m left in my heels and wedding panties that say “Missus” on the back. Slowly, he licks down my spine as he crouches. His fingers twirl the sides of the panties for grip before he pulls them down so slowly I hardly feel it. Once they’re around my ankles, I step from them and my heels. I turn and face my husband, naked for the first time with him.

Somehow, I’m nervous.

It makes no sense. We’ve lived together for months. I was his caretaker after he was shot, so I’ve fed and bathed the man. He’s seen me at my worst, too. It’s not like we haven’t experienced each other before in every possible configuration.

Yet, I’m still nervous.

Maybe because this time, it feels like it means more. It shouldn’t—marriage is just a piece of paper, or so they say. But in this moment when it’s just me and him and the rings on our fingers, everything feels different. More solid. Bigger.

His lips twitch with amusement, and he softly chuckles. “I shouldn’t be nervous right now, right?”

I laugh. “It’s okay. So am I.”

“Thank god,” he says with a laugh. “It’s silly, right?”

“I don’t think it is. Things are different now.”

He slowly nods. “I love you, wife.”

“I love you, too, husband.”

With that, he kisses me, and the nerves spark before frazzling away. When Anderson puts his hands on my bare lower back, it feels like being claimed. Carefully, I crawl onto the bed backward, not breaking our kiss as he follows me there. Until we lay down next to each other, every kiss is half sweet and half bite because whatever grace we’ve ever had before has been replaced by hunger and need. Feeling his nakedness pressed against mine makes me wild for more. I pull him on top of me, eager and wanton, and he climbs onto me for the same reasons.

This isn’t our usual sexy time. This is need taking over.

I slide my legs wide around him until I belt them at his waist, and he barely has time to feel if I’m wet enough before I’ve flexed my legs and pulled him into me. I can only take half of him at the moment. Too tense, I guess.

He breaks our kiss and asks, “You okay?”

“Needed more of a warm-up, I think.”

He smirks. “I can help with that.”

“Oh, can you?” I tease.

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