Page 58 of One Wild Wedding Weekend

She reached to smooth his eyebrow with her thumb. “Yes. We might. But I have a feeling if that happens, you’ll go down in history as my very favorite mistake.”

“I think I’m insulted.” He tried to look mad, but it was difficult with her hands all over his chest and her lips on his throat.

Daley climbed on top of him, bracing herself with her hands on his shoulders. “Make love to me, Tristan. I’ve waited all night for this.”

He scowled. “Even when you were dancing with another man?”

“Especially then.”

It was too much trouble to be mad at her. He couldn’t do it. How could he be anything but exhilarated when he was about to push inside her and feel her body welcome his?

“I care about you, Daley,” he said gruffly. The words didn’t express the whole of what he felt, but he wanted to give her something. Something to bind them.

Her eyes warmed. “Ditto.”

She wiggled her bottom until he was forced to take action. “Easy, woman.” He entered her slowly. “I think about this all the time,” he admitted. “It’s disconcerting. You did something to me at that wedding.”

“All I did was ask for ice,” she said, her expression innocent.

“You didn’t ask. I offered. So I get credit.”

“But I was the one who invited you into my room.”

“Let’s agree we had the same agenda.” The conversation distracted him enough to draw out the pleasure. He pulled the pins from her hair and watched it tumble around her shoulders. She was sensuality personified. Reckless abandon. Glorious femininity.

And she was his...

The territorial thought came out of nowhere. He’d never wanted to claim a woman before. To take her off the market.

It didn’t sound like him at all.

He should be worried. Scared.

But right now, all he could see was the look in her eyes when he surged deep. He experienced utter certainty that he had done the right thing.

Soon, the position made him want more. He rolled them over, putting her beneath him.

Daley wrapped her arms around his neck, gasping when he thrust hard.

He reared back, alarmed. “Too much?”

Her gaze was dreamy. “Not at all. I love your caveman moves.”

Tristan gave her a fake scowl. “You’re calling me a Neanderthal?” Frankly, she could call him anything she liked as long as she stayed in his bed.

“Nooo,” she drawled, extending the syllable and toying with his nape.

Goose bumps erupted all over his body, though he wasn’t cold in the slightest.

“Then what?” he demanded.

“You’re two different men, I think. A cosmopolitan, suave businessman in public and a...”

“A what?”

Her cheeks turned pink. “A down and dirty guy in bed. You take what you want, but you make me like it.”

Though they were as close as two people could be, her description bothered him. “I didn’t realize I was making you do anything.” His pride stung.

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