Page 180 of Marry Me, Maybe?
“Rowan was right,” I mumbled, already drifting. It was crazy how tired I was. “Weddings are exhausting.”
“Shouldn’t have snuck over last night,” Hudson grumbled into my neck.
I ran a hand through his hair. “But if anyone asks, the first night of our honeymoon was the best sex of our lives.”
“Definitely.” His chuckle rumbled low in his chest. “Best sex we’ve ever had.”
The light wokeme before sound did—thin gray seeping through the curtains, brushing across the bed. My handswept the sheets and found nothing but cool linen. For a second, my chest kicked up in panic until a faint hiss reached me. Water.
I stretched long and slow, every muscle sighing like it hadn’t in years. My back gave a few satisfying cracks, and I let out a groan. I’d been so exhausted from the wedding that I hadn’t gotten up once during the night.
My bladder should’ve had me up hours ago, but even that had been no match for the kind of sleep that knocked me flat last night. I scrubbed at my face and sat up, hair sticking every which way.
The hiss of water grew louder. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and smiled to myself. Figured. First morning as my husband, and he was already up before me, showering like a responsible adult, while I sat there yawning like a farmhand who’d overslept.
I stood, stretching my arms over my head until my spine gave another little crack, and my bladder was on the brink of leaking. I padded across the wide floorboards, bare feet whispering against the wood, and paused by my bag. I grabbed the bottle of lube and couldn’t help the grin that tugged at my mouth as I slipped into the bathroom.
“Good morning, husband,” I called out.
Hudson pulled apart the glass doors and poked his head out. “You’re finally up.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?” I sighed as I flipped the lid off the toilet and let my bladder do its thing. God, that felt fucking good.
Hudson’s laugh carried through the hiss of water. “You looked too peaceful.”
I glanced over, and sure enough, his eyes were on me through the steam, a lazy smile on his mouth. My chest tugged.
When I finished, I washed my hands, tossed him a grin, and stepped toward the shower, holding up a tube like a prize. He arched his brows.
“One step ahead of you.” He moved back and beckoned me inside.
“Are you now?”
Steam curled around me, clinging to my skin, wrapping me in his warmth before I even touched him. I barely managed to close the doors when Hudson’s hands came down on my waist and he backed me into the glass.
“I’ve been waiting for this all morning, husband,” he said against my lips, the spray of the water hitting us both.
“Should have woken me up to fulfill my husbandly duties.”
The kiss started soft, unhurried, but days—hell, years—of wanting him had a way of turning everything sharp fast. His groan vibrated against my lips as he dug his fingers into my hips.
I slid my hand between us to wrap around him and stroked him. He grew hard and pulsed under my palm. He hissed into my mouth, the sound shuddering down my spine.
“Matt…” He dropped his forehead to mine, his breath ragged. “God, I?—”
“Shh.” I kissed him again, tenderly, as if the whole morning belonged to us. “We’ve got nowhere else to be.”
When I finally pressed into him, slow and steady, his whole body shuddered. He braced against the wall, back perfectly arched while I pushed up into him, claiming him over and over.
“I’ll never get tired of making love to you,” I groaned, watching the way he spread around the thickness of thehead of my cock when I pulled out, leaving nothing but the tip hitched inside of him.
“Feels so good,” he moaned. “Make me come, Matt.”
“So bossy.”
But I listened to the near desperation in his voice and built a quick rhythm. The steam and sweat and water made us slippery, forcing me to cling tighter to him.
Loud cries spilled from his throat, echoing around the walls of the shower, mixing with the slap of skin and the pounding rush of water. With every thrust, his body squeezed around me, milking me deeper, tighter until I was cursing against the side of his neck.
