Page 68 of One Wild Wedding Weekend

It was interesting that Daley didn’t have a thing to say on the ride home. He knew he had shocked her. Hell, he had shocked himself.

By the time they made it into his driveway, he had a painful erection.

He grabbed her suitcase out of the trunk and unlocked the front door. “Do you need to freshen up?” he asked, trying to be accommodating.

Daley stared at him, her brown-eyed gaze searching his face. “No.”

“Good.” He dropped the suitcase in the foyer, took Daley’s hand and dragged her down the hall. “I don’t think I remembered to make my bed this morning.”

“I don’t care.”

“Let’s get you out of this,” he said, untying the little straps at her shoulders.

She was wearing a pink sundress and gold sandals. He had her naked in no time and decided he was too revved to wait for her to return the honors. When he stripped down and faced her, Daley licked her lips.

“Somebody is in a hurry,” she teased.

“I’ll slow down when we get to the good parts.” The promise was ragged but heartfelt.

Daley came closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. Now they were pressed together, delightfully so. “It’s all good parts,” she said.

When he kissed her, it was like sliding into a dream. The kind of dream a man had when he’d been on his own too long. Daley was everything he wanted. She smelled good, she tasted good, and the feel of her in his arms was like Christmas morning.

He flipped back the covers and eased her onto the bed, coming down beside her, trying not to break the connection even for a moment.

Her body was warm and curvy and welcoming. When he touched her intimately, she arched her back. “Don’t tease,” she begged. “Do it now.”

Though he tried to breathe, his words came out on a wheeze. “What about foreplay?”

“Later,” she said, wrapping her fingers around his sex and using her thumb to torment him.

A better man would have resisted temptation. Tristan never claimed to be a saint. When he entered her, they both murmured each other’s name. He smiled down at her. “You’re so damn cute it ought to be against the law. Luring fine, upstanding men to their doom.”

Daley squeezed him with inner muscles. “You don’t seem to be complaining.”

“Not with you here like this. No complaints ever.”

He moved in her slowly, pleasing them both. Trying to let her know how he felt. At the back of his mind, uncomfortable questions lingered. He shoved them away. Tonight was not the moment for introspection. He had Daley in his house. In his arms. In his bed.

She came first this time. He followed.

His chest tightened when he heard her whisper, “I love you.” It was easy to feign unconsciousness and pretend he didn’t owe her an answer.

They slept for an hour, then started all over again.

Daley woke up Saturday morning feeling sore in all sorts of random places. She had never participated in a night quite like the one before.

Tristan had been insatiable. His need for her had made her hope—for perhaps the first time—that he was serious about their relationship. If it was true, she was a happy woman.

The reference to moving in together might have been an impulsive comment. Did they know each other well enough for a step like that?

She wasn’t going to worry about it now.

Things were going well. She didn’t want to rock the boat. For now, she was content to spend time with him and see what unfolded.

By the time Tristan stumbled into the kitchen at ten, she had figured out his coffee maker. He mumbled something and grabbed a cup, filled it and then added sugar and cream. How did the man stay in such great shape?

She waited for the caffeine to kick in. As did he.

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