Page 95 of Traitor

I cried. Again.

Abuelitaspent her time out on the dance floor with Dave, teaching him how to dance, while Isaac and Josué danced circles around them.

“Showoff—I taught him everything he knows,” she’d claimed.

Grey had even managed to make a last-minute appearance, dressed in a suit no less. He’d insisted on a dance with me, which I’d nervously accepted. I’d been certain that he was going to bring up me telling Mike the truth, but he didn’t. He asked me about random things—like my favorite type of flower—before telling me I made a beautiful bride. It had been like looking at an older version of Mike.

Well, I was looking and I was liking.

As our dance had ended and people began to say their goodbyes, Grey had sought me out again. This time, to ask me to watch out for Mike and keep him safe. It was the easiest promise I’d ever made. Betsy had been a little standoffish at first, but even she couldn’t deny how happy her son was and had come up near the end of the reception to embrace me. Everything was perfect—there were no biker or police emergencies. It was a day that was truly ours.

We made it back to the room and I kicked off my heels almost immediately, stretching my toes on the carpet. “I should’ve listened to Elizabeth when she insisted on flip flops.”

Mike scooped me up and carried me over to the bed. “Lay back.”

I reclined on my elbows. “You planning on handcuffing me to something, Sullivan?”

His lips quirked up. “Well, that all depends on your behavior, Darlin’. If you resist, I just might have to break them out for old time’s sake.”

I suddenly had a strong urge to misbehave.

He grabbed a tiny bottle of lotion from the bathroom and poured some out in his hands before grabbing my left foot and massaging it in.

I moaned loudly and he chuckled. “I’m just getting started, Red. Calm your tits.” His thumbs kneaded the arches of my feet, immediately undoing the damage I’d caused by wearing heels all day. I was mesmerized, watching his hands move from one foot to the other, his black titanium wedding band catching the light from overhead.

A foot massage wasn’t meant to be erotic, was it?

Mike’s hands moved up to grip my calves and my teeth sank down onto my lower lip, silently urging them higher.

“Are you sore here?” He asked.

I nodded and he moved up to my knees. “And here?”

“So sore,” I whispered.

His fingers gripped the inside of my thighs. “What about here?”

My mouth suddenly dry, I nodded dumbly.

Mike grinned and ran his thumbs along the outer edges of my panties. “What about here, Red?”

“Aching.” The word tumbled from my lips just as his mouth brushed up against the white lace.

“You’re fucking soaked, Darlin’.” He yanked my panties down before moving his head back between my legs. My hands dug into the comforter, needing something to grab onto—anything to steady myself against the onslaught of his tongue.

Mike pushed my body to the brink, using his mouth and hand. My climax hit me like a freight train and I clapped a hand over my mouth, screaming into it.

“Be as loud as you want, baby.” Mike stripped down to nothing within seconds, before flipping me onto my stomach so he could unbutton my dress.

I shook my head. “I—I—I can’t. David might hear.”

“Jesus. Point taken.” Mike slipped the sleeves of my dress down my shoulders while I lay limply across the mattress, doing absolutely nothing to help him.

My body still shuddered from post-orgasm aftershocks as he lifted my hips, pulling layers of lace and tulle down my legs, before pushing against my entrance.

My body stretched around him and I marveled at how the sex only got better. His lips pressed against my neck as he pulled my back into his chest, fully sinking into me.

“I love you, baby,” he murmured against my earlobe before taking it between his teeth.

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