Page 211 of Burn the Wild

Now, I’m nervous. “For fuck’s sake, woman. You gonna answer me or make me sweat the rest of my life?”

She arches her brow and breaks into a laugh. She slips off the log, dropping to her knees beside me. “Yes,” she says, cupping my face. Tears shine in her beautiful emerald eyes. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

I sweep her up, capturing her mouth against mine, drinking in her sweet kiss. Already planning our future, all the years to come on Runaway Ranch.

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

“We have five minutes until we have to cut the cake, or Koty will hunt us down and snap our necks.”

“Fuck that,” Ford murmurs, kissing his way across my mouth, causing my knees to go weak. “I’m takin’ my damn time with my wife.”

I smile against his lips.Wife. It’s a dream.

Our wedding was a dream, too. Earlier today, we had a family-only ceremony on the cliffs overlooking Runaway Ranch. Waylon Jennings played as I glided toward Ford with bluebells in my hair.

Now, our brand-new Georgia farmhouse plays host to our wedding reception.

But the reception is the last thing on my mind.

I can only think about Ford and his broad hands running over my arms. His amber eyes glassy as he kisses me breathless.

I moan, tearing my hands through his lionlike hair. I’m ready. So damn ready.

Roughly, Ford shoves my short dress—my beautiful designer dress that I spent a fortune on—up over my hips. He pins me to the wall in the first-floor guest bathroom. So damn hot. So damn illicit, fucking in the bathroom when a few dozen people are outside waiting for us.

“Fuck me, ruin me,” I gasp as my husband’s mouth plunders mine. My frantic hands dip lower, unbuckling his pants and freeing his cock.

Gaze dipping to mine, he grins. His eyes are dark, drugged, hungry for me. “Turn around.” With that order, he spins me to face the bathroom wall. A pleased groan tears from his lips. “Christ, baby.”

I smile. He’s spotted my lacy pink panties with his name embroidered on the cheek.

“You’re all mine, Birdie Girl,” he growls, kissing his way down my neck. “Just keep your eyes on me and take it. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Yes, yes,” I breathe.

His hand lands a short, hard slap on my ass.

A rumble shakes out of him.

“Watching this luscious ass turn pink is what I dream of, baby.”

I moan, and he moves closer.

Arms and legs entwined.

Hearts in sync.

And then he’s inside of me. Hard. Hot.

I gasp, clenching around him, lost in the rhythm of his warm, heavy body.

A rap on the door. “Ford. You in there?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, arching against him. “Faster.”

Ford grits his teeth, pumps away. “You’re dead, Wyatt.”

A chuckle as bootsteps fade.

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