When he sucks my clit into his mouth and presses his tongue against me hard, I come apart. I cry out around him, my whole body shaking, my nails digging into his thighs. I stop sucking his cock because I need more air, my body undulating against his mouth as his wicked tongue keeps me coming. He keeps licking me through my orgasm, gentle now, drawing it out until I'm boneless and gasping.
Then he's lifting me, turning me, flipping me onto my back. He moves between my legs and pushes inside me in one slow, deep thrust. I gasp at the fullness of him, at the rightness of it.
"Look at me," he says, his voice rough. He frames my face with his hands, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones. "Don't look away. I want to see you and I want you to see me."
I lock eyes with him and he starts to move. Slow, deep strokes that hit exactly where I need him. The candlelight flickers across his face, and I can see everything in his eyes - love, devotion, the raw need.
"You're my life," he breathes, and he says it like a prayer. "My everything. My Julie. My wife."
"Yes," I whisper, and I'm already building again, already close. "Ryan, I'm-"
"Watch me," he says, his voice strained. "Watch me come apart for you. Only ever you."
His thrusts get harder, deeper, and I'm moaning, my legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. I can feel him swelling inside me, can see the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes never leave mine.
"Now," he groans. "Come with me. Now."
I shatter. I cry out his name as my orgasm crashes through me, and I watch his face as he follows me over, his eyes locked on mine, his body tensing, his breath catching as he spills insideme. He keeps thrusting through it, slow and deep, drawing out every pulse, every aftershock, until we're both trembling and breathless.
He collapses beside me, pulling me into his arms, our hearts pounding in sync. The candles still flicker, honey-apricot thick in the air, and I can feel his smile against my hair.
"Hi, wife," he whispers.
I laugh, breathless and happy and utterly spent. "Hi, husband."
He kisses my forehead, my eyelids, the tip of my nose. "I love you, Mrs. Callahan."
"I love you too, Mr. Callahan."
We lie there in the candlelight, tangled together. His arm is heavy across my waist, his breathing evening out against my neck. I think about how close I came to never knowing this. To spending my life with someone who performed intimacy instead of living it. Instead, I'm here. In this bed. With this man who looks at me like I'm the answer to something he's been asking his whole life.
I drift toward sleep with his heartbeat steady beneath my ear, and I know that this is it. I'm never letting it go.
I wake to sunlight streaming through the windows and the smell of coffee. Ryan's side of the bed is already cool, which means he's been up for a while. I pull on one of his t-shirts—it hangs past my hips—and pad downstairs barefoot.
He's in the kitchen, humming to himself as he cracks eggs into a bowl. He's wearing sweatpants and nothing else, and his hair is still messy from sleep. He looks happy. Genuinely, completely happy.
"Good morning, wife," he says when he sees me, and the word still feels new and wonderful.
"Good morning, husband," I say back, moving to wrap my arms around him from behind. "What are you making?"
"Breakfast. Thought we could eat on the patio. It's a beautiful day."
I help him cook, and it's so easy and comfortable. I chop vegetables while he handles the eggs.
We eat on the patio with our feet up on the chairs, watching the birds flit through the trees. Our backyard looks like a dream.
"So," Ryan says, setting down his coffee cup. "Are you still glad you decided we should stay home for our honeymoon?"
I look at him, and I think about all the places we could have gone. We have the time and the money and the freedom to do anything we want. But then I look around at our backyard, at our house, at this man sitting across from me in his sweatpants with bedhead and a smile that makes my heart feel too big for my chest.
"Absolutely. I wanted to stay right here. With you. In our house. That we built together."
He smiles. "Nowhere in the world has ever felt as good to me as being anywhere with you."
God, I love him. So damn much. "Thank you," I say softly.
"For what?"
