Page 108 of Worth the Fall

The hotel suite door clicks shut behind us, and my hands are already reaching for her, drawn to the elegant line of her neck where those tiny pearl buttons begin. She's been tempting me all day in this dress, looking like something out of a dream. Now, finally, we're alone.

"Let me help you with this," I murmur, fighting to keep my hands steady as I work each button free. Her skin is warm under my fingers, and the subtle scent of her perfume makes my head spin. Every inch of exposed skin is a revelation, and I have to resist the urge to taste each new area I uncover.

"You've been driving me crazy all day," I confess, my voice rougher than intended. "Do you know how hard it was to keep my hands off you during that first dance?" The memory of her body pressed against mine, the way she'd moved deliberately closer than necessary, has been torturing me for hours.

She smiles, and I can hear the mischief in her voice. "I might have done that on purpose."

I can't help but chuckle, pressing a kiss to her newly exposed shoulder. "Tease."

"Your tease," she reminds me, and something possessive roars to life in my chest.

"My wife," I correct her, loving how the words feel in my mouth. After everything we've been through, she's finally, officially mine.

The dress falls away in a whisper of fabric, and my breath catches when she turns to face me. The sight of her in delicate white lace, backlit by the soft hotel lights, is almost too much. My hands come up to frame her face of their own accord.

"God, look at you," I breathe, tracing her bottom lip with my thumb. The platinum band on my finger catches the light—a constant reminder that this isn't just another night together. This is forever. "How did I get so lucky?"

She reaches for my tie instead of answering, and I have to suppress a groan at the feeling of her fingers working at my throat. My pulse jumps under her touch, and I know she can feel the tremor in my hands as they slide down her sides. I've wanted her countless times before, but never quite like this.

"I love you," she whispers against my mouth, and my control snaps. I kiss her deeply, hungrily, letting out all the need I've been containing throughout the reception. She opens to me immediately, pressing closer until I can feel her heart racing against my chest.

I walk her backward toward the bed, finally allowing my hands to roam everywhere they've been aching to touch. When the back of her knees hit the mattress, I force myself to pull back, needing to see her face.

"Tell me what you want," I manage, my voice dropping lower with desire.

"You," she breathes, tugging me down with her. "Always you."

The trust in her voice is my undoing. I take my time exploring her body, relearning every curve and plane like it's our first time together. But it's different now—each touch weighted with our vows, each kiss a renewal of our promises. When I find that sensitive spot below her ear, her gasp sends heat straight through me.

"Miguel, please."

"Patience,mi amor," I murmur against her skin, though I'm trembling with the effort of holding back. "Let me love you properly."

My hand slides lower, and the way she responds to my touch is intoxicating. Everything narrows to this moment—the taste of her skin, the sound of my name on her lips, the perfect way she fits against me. When I finally push into her, the connection is almost overwhelming. This isn't just passion anymore; it's a physical expression of everything we've promised each other.

"Look at me," I command softly, needing to see her eyes. She opens them, and the love I see there steals my breath. Her hand comes up to trace my face, and I turn to kiss her palm, feeling the delicate band of her wedding ring press against my cheek.

"Mine," I growl against her neck as the possessive need builds. "Forever."

"Yours," she agrees breathlessly, and I believe it with every fiber of my being.

Afterward, as we lie tangled in the sheets, I can't stop touching her, tracing patterns on her bare skin. The weight of my ring feels right, natural, like it was always meant to be there.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She props herself up on my chest, and my heart clenches at how beautiful she looks —hair mussed from my hands, lips swollen from my kisses, wearing nothing but satisfaction and my ring.

"About how this is just the beginning," she says, leaning in to kiss me. I respond instantly, pulling her closer as desire starts to build again.

"Round two, Mrs. Ramirez?" I murmur against her lips, loving how the name feels. My wife. My Mia.

"We have all night," she reminds me, shifting against me in a way that makes my breath catch. "And the rest of our lives."

I smile, rolling her beneath me again. The rest of our lives—it still doesn't feel long enough.

CHAPTER 23

Mia

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