AllFreeNovel
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“‘Wildfire’ again?” he suggests.
“Again,” I agree before I turn on the original, much-loved version of our song.
And we go.
*
The flow of a river.
The beat of a heart.
The draw of air into lungs.
That’s what kissing Landon is like. Powerful and natural and fast and gentle and invigorating and comforting and intense.
That’s what sex with him is like, too.
We tried undressing each other the second our front door shut, but it was taking too long—the back of my dress, his layers of clothes—I quickly ended up against the wall with my legs around him, the dress and most of his outfit still on. As if that wasn’t hot already, it’s been getting hotter; I didn’t realize he was strong enough to hold me up like thisandmake it good, but he is. Everything about it isso, so good.
We truly are each other’s now, and we make sure it’s heard in every moan and shaking breath, felt in every gripping movement and pressing kiss.
I unquestionably hear it just before I lose control around him, because he groans against my ear, “Yeah, let’s go, Liv Wintermute. You and me both. I’m dying for it.”
God, what I told him after our first time together was so true: before him, I had no idea what the hell pleasure was.
I sure do now.
I know it so deeply and strongly right this second that my palm burns from how hard I smack it against the wall, lungs burn from how sharply I gasp.
He wraps my mouth up in a fierce kiss, then exhales a huffed breath onto my lips as he marks me as his not for the first time in the last year—butyes, for the first time, in a way, because I’m his wife now.
Marvelous.
Shortly after it’s over, he’s too weak in the knees to keep us up like this. That’s fine with me. We sink down to the floor, and he drops onto his back, and I follow him so I can kiss him much more lazily than before.
My body is already warm in this dress, but his hands still scorch me as he flattens them across my back. As our kiss ends, his heart pounds pleasantly against my chest through the shirt I got one measly button undone on. His tie got thrown aside earlier, so I’m free to slip some of my fingers under his shirt and touch his skin.
He sighs, “I can’t believe what you do to me. Seems like it should’ve stopped my heart a million different times by now.”
I sigh, too, before I whisper, “I can’t believe how much I love you.” After I sit up enough to see his face: “Every time I think I love you the absolute most my heart can handle, something else happens and….”
He smiles, looking as at-peace as I feel. “Yeah.”
“Know how that goes?”
“Yep.”
I return his smile and soak up how he looks, how he feels for another few moments.
Then I murmur, “What now, handsome husband?”
One of his hands leaves my back to tuck some of my hair behind my ear.
I remember the very first time he touched my hair. It was the day we picnicked at the park, when he comforted me over my story about being bullied on the school bus.
“We can do absolutely anything, lovely wife.”
‘Sometimes the greatest things come from the darkest places.’That’s what he told me that day.
