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It had to be a sign.
Harper reclined onto her elbows. Silently, they observed as the pink pops of color faded into the inky canvas.
“You have it, Harper.”
She turned toward him as another shower of sparks lit her in a rosy glow. “What do I have?”
“My heart,” he rasped. “I love you, and I think you love me.”
He’d done it. He’d never expected this day to come, never thought he’d let anyone in, never believed he could trust someone with his secret.
“That’s a bold assertion, heartthrob. The deal was a sixty-day marriage.” She was talking tough, but he could hear the vulnerability in her voice.
“Then I want to readdress the double-dog dare marriage terms.”
She reclined onto the bed of pillows. “What are you proposing?”
He touched her knee and drew his fingertips along her inner thigh, lifting the fabric of her dress as he worked his way up. “I want more.”
She closed her eyes and parted her legs as he continued his ascent. “Do you?”
He gazed at her. This was how she looked every morning. He’d crack open his eyes, and joy would overtake him at the sight of his wife. With her hair in a wavy halo of chocolate brown, he’d twist a lock between his fingers and watch her sleep.
He pressed a kiss to her left eye as his hand grew closer to her sweet center. “What if I told you I needed you?” He kissed her cheek. “What if I told you that you made me whole?” She smiled, and he kissed the corner of her mouth. “What if I told you that you’re the song I can’t get out of my head? I don’t want to be without you, Harper. If that’s not love, then I don’t know what is.”
The sky shimmered with bursts of light, and every star in the sky twinkled like a sea of diamonds bearing witness to his words.
She opened her eyes but remained silent, giving him space to speak.
He exhaled a slow breath. “What if I told you that you could trust me? What if I promised I’d never be reckless with your heart? What would you say to that? Could you let yourself love a musician?”
He drew tiny circles on her inner thigh.
Anticipation mingled in the air with the fireworks’ sulfur scent.
“Is this real?” she whispered as the air cracked with color. “Or am I about to wake up in my car parked outside the Luxe Grandiose, and this will have been a wild dream?”
He slipped his hand between her thighs and rocked his palm against her. “Does this feel like you’re dreaming?”
She bit her lip and expelled a breathy moan.
“It’s not a dream, Harper. I love you. I love what we are together.”
“You love me,” she whispered on a sexy sigh.
He studied her face as a rush of pops and booms ushered in the fireworks finale. The sky sizzled with torrents of glittering light. But that wasn’t the real show. The good stuff wasn’t in the sky but here, writhing beneath his touch. He concentrated on his wife’s face. The lights from the neighboring docks cast enough of a glow for him to drink in her apple cheeks, appreciate her stubborn slice of a nose, and lust over her lips that beckoned to be kissed.
He saw all of her—this woman who’d saved him from himself.
“I’ve loved you from the moment I heard your sweet, sassy voice,” he confessed as he worked her in smooth, deliberate strokes.
“Landon,” she breathed, rolling her hips as she rode his hand.
He dialed up the pressure, and she trembled beneath his touch. She was almost there—so close to falling to pieces. She arched her back as she inched closer and closer to the edge. Pleasure radiated from her body, and she grew hot and slick. She moaned a deliciously dirty sound, and her sultry voice fed his desire.
He increased the pressure, finding the perfect rhythm. Watching her writhe beneath his touch, gasping and moaning, had him rock-hard. He could do this all day. But as much as he loved making her body sing, he needed more. He fought every impulse to shrug down his pants and thrust his cock into her slick center. He needed to hear her say those three words. “Say it, Harper. Tell me you feel it, too.”
“I love you.” The words tumbled past her lips in a heated breath. “I love you, Landon Bartholomew Paige.”
