Grace

“Would it be completely trite if I said alone at last?”

Spencer chuckled as he closed the cabin door behind us, turning the lock. “Not one bit. As a matter of fact, you beat me to the punch.”

I kicked off my ivory heels and dropped my tiny beaded purse on a nearby chair. “It was a beautiful wedding. The absolute best. And the baby was so good.” I frowned a little, thinking of my sweet little Clark. “I hope he doesn’t cry all night for your mom and the girls.”

“If he does, they’ll do everything in their power to make him happier. He’s already got the three of them wrapped around his infant finger.” Spencer approached me, his hands chafing against my upper arms. “Are you really okay with him being with my family tonight? Because if this is too much—too soon—we can go get him now and bring him here with us tonight. I’ll stop at home and pick up the pack and play.”

I reached up to link my hands behind his head. “Do you know how much I love you? And just now, when you said that, somehow I managed to love you even more. I didn’t think that was possible.” With a smile that I hoped promised everything my words didn’t say, I added, “And no. I know the baby is fine with your mom and your sisters. I’m very happy to have this time together . . . with just the two of us.”

Spencer’s fingers skimmed down to my hips and pulled me against him. My breath hitched a little as I felt him hard and long against my sex. It had been a very long six weeks since Clark had been born. Not because he was a difficult baby—he wasn’t. Parenthood with Spencer as my partner had been . . . well, not exactly a breeze, but not as hard as it might have been if I’d been on my own.

No, what had made those weeks arduous was that I had finally found the man who I’d been waiting for all my life, we’d both declared our love, we were hot for each other’s bodies . . . and then we had to put off consummating that love for over a month.

Oh, we didn’t exactly stay hands-off that whole time. There’s a whole lot that two in love, horny people can do to tantalize and tease each other. And during the past two weeks, once my post-partum body began to return a little bit more to normal, that’s exactly what we did. But we never crossed certain lines . . . Spencer had heard the doctor’s orders in the hospital, telling me that I shouldn’t return to sexual activity until after my six-week check-up. Being the stickler to rules that he was—and also, I knew, because he cared about me and worried for me—he made sure that we never went beyond heavy petting and lots and lots of kissing.

Damn, could that man kiss.

But tonight, all bets were off. Not only had I gotten the green light from my doctor yesterday, but now we were well and truly married, with a beautiful antique gold and diamond band on the third finger of my left hand.

I was ready to put it—and the gorgeous white peignoir set that my two new sisters-in-law had helped me pick out—to good use tonight.

Untangling my arms from my husband’s—my husband! How freakin’ cool was that!—I sent him what I hoped was a sultry smile.

“Give me ten minutes, okay? I just need to . . .” I wagged my eyebrows. “Slip into something a little more comfortable.”

Spencer groaned. “Ten more minutes? You’re killing me here.” But he said it with a twinkle in his eyes as he reached for his tie. “Go on, sweetheart. I’ll do what I can to get comfortable out here, too.”

I giggled. “I’ll be out in a flash.”

It took me a little more than the full ten minutes to strip out of my wedding finery, take a quick shower in the quaint but very efficient shower-tub combo, designed to be in keeping with the early twentieth-century theme of the cabin resort, brush my teeth and tug on the pretty satin nightie.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I grimaced. My body might have been approved for sexy times by the doctor, but it sure wasn’t going to win any beauty contests. My boobs were absolutely ginormous. I’d nursed Clark just before we left, so I was good to go for a few hours before I’d have to make use of the breast pump I’d packed, but still—these suckers were exploding out of the cups of the nightgown. And my stomach was still so . . . poochy.

I swallowed hard, ran my fingers through my hair and decided this was as good as it got. I trusted that Spencer loved me, and hopefully, he’d looked at my body through the goggles of that love.

When I stepped back out into the bedroom, Spencer was sprawled on the bed, lying on his back in just his boxers. One arm rested over his eyes, and his chest was moving up and down so evenly that I knew he was sleeping.

A fissure of disappointment wrapped about my spine, even as I understood. Spencer and I had both been on a rollercoaster of activity for the past month and a half, between the baby’s birth, me moving into Spencer’s apartment with the baby, both of us adjusting to the schedule of a newborn while Spencer also continued to work full-time . . . oh, and we also planned a wedding. It was no wonder the poor guy was exhausted.

With a sigh of acceptance, I clicked off the light, eased down the covers, and climbed onto the bed.

The mattress shook as Spencer startled. “Grace?”

I smiled wryly in the dark. “I hope so. I’d like to know who else might be climbing into my husband’s bed on our wedding night.”

“Oh . . . yeah.” He gave a little cough. “Um, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I sat down to wait for you, and then the next thing I knew . . .”

“Hey.” My eyes were adjusting, and I reached out to touch Spencer’s shoulder. “It’s okay. We’re both exhausted, and for good reason.” I turned onto my side and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his chest. “We can just sleep tonight. It’s okay. We have the rest of our life for . . . you know. Everything else.”

“Oh.” His voice sounded odd, a little flat. “I . . . is that what you want?”

I bit my lip. “I . . .” And then I closed my eyes and went for broke. “No. Not really. I’ve been waiting for this night for fucking ever, or at least it feels like that. It feels like I’ve been waiting all my life to be with you, Spencer.”

Faster than I could react, he had rolled us over until he lay on top of me, his arms braced to hold his weight and his legs resting between mine. I loved this feeling, the sense of a man’s weight on top of me. I laughed a little and framed his face with my hands.

“I take it you agree with me.”

“Yeah, I do.” He paused. “Can I turn on the lamp here? I really want to see you, Grace. All of you.”

I felt the warmth of a blush on my cheeks as I nodded. Spencer balanced on hand as he reached for the light, and once it was on, his face took on an expression of reverence.

“Oh, sweetheart. Oh, Grace.” His fingertip traced the lace of the cup my breast was swelling over. “You’re so beautiful. So absolutely, amazingly gorgeous.”

I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry I don’t look . . . I mean, I’m not exactly the picture of a bride on her wedding night. I haven’t lost as much of the baby weight as I hoped, and . . .”

“Grace.” Spencer brushed his fingers over my face. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

When I did as he’d asked, he went on. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I love you more than I could ever begin to tell you. Your body just went through a miraculous ordeal. You gave birth to our baby. That sweet little guy who I love almost as much as I love his mama? You carried him for nine months, you pushed him out, and you’re feeding him—all with this powerful body of yours. When I look at you, I only see the woman I adore.”

Before I could say another word—and really, what more needed to be said?—Spencer leaned down to kiss me, his mouth urgent and hot. I opened my lips to him, met every foray of his tongue with my own. His hands traveled down, nudging the satin of my nightgown out of the way until my nipples were exposed.

“Is it okay if I . .  .” His hand palmed my breast. “I don’t want—I don’t know if it would feel good, with the nursing . . .?”

“Yes, it’s fine.” I arched my back. “Please. Oh, please, Spencer.”

“You never have to ask, honey.” His mouth covered my nipple, sucking so gently and sweetly, sending a thrill of need straight to my core. I clutched at the back of his neck and threaded my fingers through his hair. His tongue circled my aching tip while his fingers played with the other nipple, thrumming me to an almost excruciating buzz.

Reaching between us, I slipped my hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, stroking his hard length. With a growl, Spencer rolled away just long enough to ease off the briefs.

“Can you sit up?” he asked, his voice husky. “I want to take this off you. It’s lovely, but you’re more perfect without it.”

I pushed up on my hands, and Spencer and I worked together to get me undressed. It wasn’t as easy as it should have been; for a nightie designed to be worn on a wedding night, there were a surprising number of ties that needed to be loosened. And then it caught on my boob, and easing it down over my ass wasn’t a cakewalk, either.

But we were determined, and before too long, I was as naked as he was. His hand wandered down my curves, caressing and loving each part of me. My legs parted of their own volition, and when he touched my sex for the first time, I thought I was either going to die or fly. He stroked me, his touch exactly right, finding my clit with unerring accuracy.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured. “So perfect.” He slid one finger inside me and then a second. His thumb pressed against my clit, and his mouth fastened on my breast again. Just like that, I was gone, my body bowing in pleasure as I called out his name, riding the waves of an orgasm that went on and on.

Spencer’s hand was trembling slightly as he stayed with me until the end, easing me down. His kisses on my jaw, my neck and my breast were fevered and needy, and his cocked slid along my pussy. I gazed up into his face, taunt with barely controlled need, and knew that he was waiting for me to be completely ready. He didn’t want to take any risk of hurting me.

“Spencer.” I circled him with eager fingers. “I want you. Come inside me. I’ve been waiting so long.”

He exhaled. “Are you sure?”

“So sure.” I rubbed the head of his dick over my slippery folds. “Please, Spencer.”

With a groan that I thought could probably be heard through the resort, he entered me, moving with exquisite slowness.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“More than okay.” I canted my hips enough that he slid fully home, seated deep within me, and it felt wonderful.

“You’re so—my God, Grace, I love you.” He withdrew and then thrust again. “Love you so much, baby.”

I felt the rising of passion again as I wrapped my legs around his hips and dug my nails into his back. “Faster—harder—Spencer—”

He plunged into me again and again, losing some of his finesse with speed and intensity, but I didn’t care. I needed him, inside me, dragging me with him to the edge of that summit again.

And when I came, just as long and as powerfully as before, he followed me, his body going stiff for a moment he pulsed within me.

A few minutes later, I lay with my head over his heart, smiling at the unsteady beating I heard. “Spencer.”

“Mmmmhmmm.” He ran his fingers through my hair and brushed a kiss on my forehead.

“I don’t believe in fate. I never did. I figured life was just random, and things happened—well, randomly.” I flattened my hand on his chest. “And maybe I still don’t. But when I think about everything that’s happened in the last year—getting pregnant, moving to Burton, meeting you—and I realize that even one thing happening differently might have changed everything—I might never have met you . . . well, it scares me. I came so close to not having this. To not having you.”

“Grace. Sweetheart.” Spencer took my hand in his own and lifted it to his lips. “I promise that no matter what, I would’ve found you. In this world, in a thousand different possible versions of this world . . . there’s none where I’m not in love with you.”

Warmth spread over me, and tears filled my eyes—and I couldn’t blame the pregnancy hormones anymore.

“Spencer, I love you in all of those versions, too.” Snuggling up to him, I sighed. “You’ve made my every dream come true.” I shifted until my lips were at his ear. “And do you know what my next dream is?”

He grinned. “Sleeping until we wake up—no alarm, no crying?”

“As long as your arms are around me—yes, that’s it exactly.”

Spencer curved his body around me, his arm snugging my waist. “Good night, Grace.”

As my eyes fluttered shut and drowsiness came for me, I murmured, “Not just a good  night. . . the best night.”

 

Keep the Small Town Love Sizzling!

Read the Next Book Here.