Page 130 of Sexting the Billionaire

By the time we bid the last guests goodnight, it's past midnight. Harmony is fast asleep upstairs with the nanny staying overnight in the guest room. The catering staff is quietly cleaning up, and Roman and I finally have a moment alone in our bedroom.

"Wife," he says, testing the word as he closes the door behind us.

"Husband," I reply, equally testing.

"I like the sound of that." He moves toward me, unhurried but purposeful. "Now, about those promises I made..."

His fingers find the hidden zipper of my dress, slowly lowering it as his lips trace the curve of my neck. "You are the most beautiful bride I've ever seen. Even more beautiful than I imagined."

"You imagined me as a bride?" I ask, my breath catching as his hands slip inside the loosened fabric, finding bare skin.

"From about our third date," he admits, easing the dress from my shoulders. "Maybe the second."

The dress pools at my feet, leaving me in the delicate lingerie I'd chosen specifically for tonight—cream-colored lace that leaves little to the imagination.

Roman steps back, his eyes darkening as he takes in the sight of me. "Christ, Cassie. You're trying to kill me."

I laugh softly, reaching for his tie. "Death by lingerie. There are worse ways to go."

His hands capture mine, bringing them to his lips. "Let me look at you. Just for a moment."

I stand still, allowing his gaze to travel over me, feeling treasured rather than merely desired. When he finally reaches for me again, his touch is reverent.

"I meant what I said in my vows," he murmurs against my skin. "You changed everything. You made me better."

My fingers work at the buttons of his shirt. "We made each other better."

His vest and shirt join my dress on the floor as we move toward the bed. The back of my knees hit the mattress, and I sink down, pulling him with me. He braces himself above me, his eyes serious suddenly.

"I need you to know something," he says, brushing hair from my face. "Even after all this time, all we've been through—I still wake up wondering how I got so lucky. How one misdirected text message could lead to you, to Harmony, to this life we've built."

My heart squeezes with such love it's almost painful. "It wasn't luck," I tell him, pulling him closer. "It was us, making choices. Choosing each other, again and again."

His mouth captures mine in a kiss that quickly ignites into something more urgent. The last barriers of clothing between us disappear under impatient hands. When he finally slides into me, we both gasp at the familiar yet always overwhelming sensation of completeness.

"Cassie," he breathes against my neck, setting a rhythm that's both tender and insistent. "My wife. Mine."

"Yours," I agree, my body arching to meet his. "And you're mine."

What follows is unlike any intimacy we've shared before—it’s slower.

Deeper.

Intimate in a way that steals the breath from my lungs before he’s even touched me. Roman’s mouth finds mine with a kind of reverence, each kiss unhurried, tasting, claiming.

His tongue teases, coaxing rather than taking, until my body is arching toward him without thought. His hands move to my breasts, cupping them gently, thumbs circling my nipples in slow, deliberate strokes that leave me gasping. When his mouth replaces his fingers, the warm press of his tongue and the drag of his lips pull a moan from deep in my throat. Every flick, every kiss feels intentional—designed to unravel me, inch by inch.

"I need to taste you," he growls, kissing down my stomach.

He spreads my thighs wide, his strong hands gripping my hips as he lowers his mouth. The first sweep of his tongue against my slick folds tears a cry from my throat. He devours me relentlessly, his tongue circling and flicking against my most sensitive spot while he slides one finger inside me, then two, curving upward to stroke that place that makes me see stars.

"Roman, I'm going to—" My words dissolve into a moan as the orgasm rips through me, my body clenching around his fingers while his mouth continues its sweet torture.

Before I can recover, he positions himself between my trembling thighs. I feel the thick, hot length of him pressing against my entrance, stretching me deliciously as he pushes inside. He fills me completely, so deep I can feel him everywhere.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he pants against my neck, withdrawing almost completely before driving back in. "So wet. So tight."

I wrap my legs around his waist, changing the angle so he hits that perfect spot with each thrust. Our bodies slick with sweat, he pounds into me with increasing urgency. I rake my nails down his back, urging him deeper, harder.

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