“My parents spoil them rotten,” I said, pulling her into my arms. It still amazed me how perfectly she fit against me, like she was made for this exact spot. “Maeve probably has my momwrapped around her little finger by now, and Ezra’s no doubt convinced Dad to let him drive the tractor.”
“Our six-year-old is not driving a tractor.” Brielle laughed, but I could see the fondness in her eyes when she talked about my parents. They’d taken to her immediately, and when the kids came along, they’d become the doting grandparents she’d never had growing up.
“Don’t worry. Dad will put Ezra on his lap, same as he did with me.”
“I still can’t believe how lucky I got with your family. Your mom treats me as good as my own mom did.”
“She loves you. We all do.” I brushed a strand of red hair behind her ear. Even after all these years, touching her sent sparks through me. “Besides, you’re the one who gave her grandchildren. She’s been waiting for grandkids since I turned thirty.”
Brielle laughed, the sound filling her workshop. The space had evolved over the years—a corner of our garage had expanded into this dedicated room where she created her lanterns. Orders came in steadily now from all over the country, and the honky-tonk even featured her custom lighting designs.
“It’s strange having the house to ourselves,” she said, stepping closer. “When’s the last time we had a whole weekend alone?”
“Too long.” I slid my hands around her waist, pulling her against me. “Usually our date nights involve escaping to dinner before racing back for bedtime stories.”
“Not tonight.” Her voice had gone soft, that particular tone that made my pulse kick up a notch. “Tonight, we have nowhere to be. No little voices calling for water or worried about monsters under the bed.”
“Dangerous,” I murmured, backing her up against her workbench. The lanterns around us cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating our own private world of light and warmth.
“Very,” she agreed, her hands sliding up my chest to loop around my neck. “What are we going to do with all this free time?”
Instead of answering, I kissed her. Slow and deep, the way I’d wanted to kiss her this morning when Ezra had interrupted us, and yesterday when Maeve needed help finding her favorite stuffed animal. The kiss of a man who’d waited all week to have his wife to himself.
When we broke apart, both breathing hard, her eyes were dark with promise.
“I have some ideas,” I said against her lips.
And then I was kissing her again, harder this time. Not careful, not restrained. Ten years of history crashing into the same hunger we’d carried since the day we met—raw and unstoppable. My hands slid from her waist to her ass, hauling her hard against me, and I swallowed her gasp of surprise, turning it into a moan.
Our fingers fumbled with buttons and zippers, a frantic, shared mission. The softwhumpof my jeans hitting the floor was followed by the whisper of her sundress sliding down her body. The air in the workshop, usually scented with solder and citrus cleaner, was now rich with the smell of us—her vanilla perfume and my musk, the sweet, primal scent of arousal.
I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist, and set her on the smooth, cool wood of her worktable. A few stray art supplies scattered, a sharp reminder of where we were. Her sanctuary. Her domain. And I was about to worship her in it.
I knelt between her legs, my hands sliding up her inner thighs, pushing them wider. She was bare to me, beautiful andglistening in the low, dancing light. I didn’t tease. I didn’t hesitate. I leaned in and licked a slow, firm line up her center.
“Wade,” she breathed, her head falling back.
Her taste exploded on my tongue—earthy and sweet, uniquely her. I settled in, feasting on her, my hands holding her hips down as she bucked against my mouth.
My world narrowed to the sound of her ragged breaths and my own greedy sounds, the feel of her clit, a hard pearl under my tongue. The way her fingers tangled in my hair, not guiding, just holding on.
“Yes, right there, oh God, right there,” she chanted.
I looked up to see her, her back arched, her own fingers pinching her nipple. The sight nearly undid me.
Doubling my efforts, I circled my tongue, sucking gently until her chanting broke into a high, broken cry. Her thighs clamped around my head like a vise as she shuddered through her release, her inner muscles fluttering against my tongue.
I gentled my mouth, kissing her through the last tremors until she relaxed, her hands falling away as she looked down at me with a naughty smile.
Before I could even catch my breath, she was pushing at my shoulders, her eyes blazing with a new fire. “My turn. Up. Now.”
That was one command I was helpless to refuse.
I stood, and she slid off the table, smiling as she dropped to her knees before me. Her hand wrapped around my cock, so hard it was almost painful.
She didn’t make me wait. Her mouth—hot, wet, and practiced—closed over me.
My head snapped back, a guttural groan tearing from my throat. “Brielle…fuck.”
