Page 72 of First Comes Marriage

He glanced up from his laptop when the door closed behind her. “How was your appointment?”

“Fine.” She stepped between his legs, into his waiting arms, and tilted her face up to receive his kiss. It was all so…domestic. Simple. Easy.

“You got what you needed?”

“Mmhmm. One shiny new prescription for birth control pills.”

“And that will help?”

“It should.” She rested her hands on his biceps, her fingers skating over the muscles beneath his shirt. How did that simple touch feel that good? “What do you want to do for dinner tonight?” she asked.

If someone had asked him a year ago—hell, two months ago—if he’d ever be the kind of man who waited for his wife to come home from work, who felt lighter with each passing week of these everyday conversations and joint decisions, he would have laughed in their face. Well, to be fair, Baz didn’t laugh all that often even two months ago. Yet another thing Sabrina had changed about his life.

Baz curled his hands around the back of her thighs andpulled her closer, nuzzling into her neck. “I have a few ideas.” He nipped at her skin and she laughed, the throaty, fluttery kind that meant she was already turned on. “Let me take you out tonight.”

“Like a date?” Her voice was breathy, unsure.

“Yeah, wildflower. Like a date.”

Simple.

Could it be simple?

Sometimes he could almost forget that none of this was meant to happen. Not taking her out on a date, not sleeping every night in her arms, or waking up and reaching for her. Not the way she looked at him like she was always on the brink of saying something he hadn’t let himself want in years—not since her sister.

It all seemed close enough to touch, as real as the feel of her silken hair wrapped around his fist or her breath on his neck.

They hadn’t done anything in the right order, and yet maybe that was the key. With Holly, Baz had followed the rulebook: he’d waited until after their third date to ask her up to his apartment, he’d gotten down on one knee, he’d smiled for the overpriced engagement photos—and where had it gotten him?

Maybe he wasn’t cut out for traditional. Maybe he and Sabrina were meant to forge their own path. Maybesimplewas a feeling, not a plan.

Like eating ice cream at two a.m. as the moonlight danced on his wife’s skin.

Like watching the town he loved open its arms to her, and watching her embrace it right back.

Like the feel of her freckles beneath his lips as he traced their path across her clavicle.

Simple.

***

Baz watched from the bathroom doorway as Sabrina put small diamond studs in her ears, the finishing touch on her date night outfit. She was always beautiful but she was beyond gorgeous in the form-fitting dress in a green color that made her eyes seem even more vibrant, her long legs on display and the neckline low enough to tease at the shadow between her breasts. He was half tempted to call off this plan and take her to bed straightaway.

Stop thinking with your dick.

This was important. They needed to keep their hands to themselves long enough to have a real conversation—about their future, about whatever was going on with her health, about the feeling in his chest that he was afraid to name. And the longer he went without naming it, the more he felt like maybe it was all in his head. It had only been a few weeks, after all. Maybe he was confusing lust with…something more. Maybe he was letting their circumstances muddle his thoughts. Baz had never thought he’d be the kind of guy to find commitment sexy, at least not after Holly, but knowing Sabrina was his wife, that she wore his ring—Christ, it made him half hard just thinking about it.

And yet they’d skipped all the things that were supposed to come before “I do”—the courtship and the slow discovery of one another. Sabrina deserved that. She deserved to be swept off her feet, to feel chosen. Tonight, he would give her that.

“If you keep looking at me like that, we’re not going to make it to dinner,” Sabrina said with a laugh.

“Just admiring the view.” He pushed off of the doorframe and stepped behind her, settling his hands on her hips and his lips on the curve where her neck met her shoulder.

She sighed happily and leaned back against him. “We could stay home. Order in.”

He nipped her shoulder, and she yelped in surprise, the sound dissolving into a giggle that made him smile in spite ofhimself. “Temptress.”

She laughed in earnest, then pushed away from him and reached for her lipstick, a bright red he fully intended to see smeared all over his cock later. “Two minutes,” she said when he got distracted by the color painting her lips.

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