Page 68 of The Mister I Married

His words slowly penetrated and she drew back, both perplexed and affronted, until she caught sight of the teasing glint in his eyes.

“Oh, shut up, do,” she said, battling a smile, and when she kissed him again he was laughing.

She fumbled for the falls of his trousers, her fingers clumsily undoing the buttons, and Alex sucked in a sharp breath as she freed his erection. She stroked him once, twice, her kisses feverish, her core drenched and aching.

Without a word, she rose up on her knees and widened her thighs, sinking low and taking just the head of him inside her.

Alex swore, his hands clamping around her hips as he surged up, giving her more of him.

Emmy gasped, sucking in air as she let herself fall, sheathing him, all the way to the hilt. She rode him, pumping her hips faster and faster, frenzied now with the promise of release.

“God, Emmy,” Alex gritted out, “you’re too good, too gorgeous. Can’t—wait—”

She came hard, clenching around him, her climax shuddering through her limbs and stealing her breath.

With a guttural shout, Alex thrust his hips up one final time and then he stiffened, throwing his head back as his orgasm ripped through him.

Afterward, he fell onto his back on the quilt, pulling Emmy down with him. She collapsed beside him, gasping for breath, her heart knocking against her ribs. She flopped onto her back, her muscles as soft as melted butter, and gazed up at the canopy of willows above, feeling positively marvelous.

They had made love precisely fourteen times now, and each and every time she was certain it couldn’t possibly be as good as she’d remembered, but it always was.

In fact, it was better.

She wondered, idly, if it would always be so good.

“Thank you.”

Alex’s soft voice drew her gaze, and she found him watching her, his expression serious, his eyes intense. Almost tender.

Unnerved, Emmy slipped on an impish smile. “Thank you. Every picnic should end so agreeably.”

His lips twitched with humor, but he shook his head, not to be distracted. “Thank you for marrying me,” he said as he turned onto his side and raised himself up on one forearm. “I like being a husband more than I thought I would, and that is because of you.” He smiled and gently cupped her cheek with one hand. “You are extraordinary, Emmy. And I am so thankful you chose me.”

His words stunned her, the affection in his smile warming her straight through, and she could do nothing but stare up at him, agog.

“Now,” he said briskly, “I think it is time we returned to the house, don’t you?” He climbed to his feet and held a hand out to her. “Our hour together is well over, and I don’t want you angry with me for detaining you.”

Emmy slipped her hand in his and let him tug her to her feet, still trying to dispel the effects of his earlier words while she brushed away the crumbs from her skirts. “How could I possibly be angry with you after such a lovely outing?”

“I don’t know,” he teased, “but anything is possible.”

She rolled her eyes at him and then the two of them began packing up their picnic things, filling the basket with their half-finished meal.

A few minutes later they were on their way back, walking at a leisurely pace toward the house as they chatted amiably about everything and nothing, but all the while Emmy’s thoughts never strayed far from the memory of his words.

He was glad he’d married her.

He thought she was extraordinary.