“We’re married,” he said quietly, pressing another kiss to my belly button. “I’m your safe place. I’ve always been your safe place.”
I slid my hands into his hair, pulling gently and knowing he was right. I’d been my best and worst self with this man, and he only loved me more the more real I was with him. No place was safer for me than with Bennett.
He moved his mouth from one hip to the other, up my ribs, tongue sweeping over my breasts, teeth pulling gently at their peaks. And then he rose to his feet as he kissed up my neck until he towered in front of me, hair hanging over his brow, eyes dark and predatory.
“How many times have we been together like this?”
I shrugged. “Maybe a million?”
“Are you still nervous?” he asked quietly, lifting my left hand and kissing my wedding ring.
I watched his tongue dart out, licking my finger, and whispered, “Not anymore.”
His expression grew serious. “Are you happy we did this?”
Nodding, I managed a hoarse “I’m giddy.” He bent, kissing me, and I said into his smiling mouth, “I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“ ‘You think?’ ” Reaching up, he pressed both hands to my face, sliding a thumb inside my mouth. His lips twisted into a dark, teasing smile. “ ‘You think?’ ”
I nodded, pressing my teeth into his knuckle.
“Suck it,” he growled, and then shivered when I wrapped my lips around him, circling him with my tongue.
Between us, he was so hard his whole body was tense, hands shaking at the sides of my face. “Look at me.”
I shivered, unable to break my attention from where his cock arched straight up between us.
“Look at me,” he ground out.
I blinked up to him and he slid his thumb deeper into my mouth, pressing down against my tongue. He groaned quietly, watching as he slowly withdrew his digit; I bit down so his skin dragged against my teeth.
A calm silence settled between us. Bennett’s expression straightened and he simply stared down at me, studying every part of my face as he swept the wet pad of his thumb back and forth across my bottom lip.
“Married,” he said quietly, as if only to himself.
I loved his honest, expressive hazel eyes, his smart mouth, and his carved, stubborn jaw. I loved his tousled hair and the heavy dip of his Adam’s apple when he swallowed. I loved his broad chest, sculpted arms, and the world’s best naughty fingers. I loved his abdomen, his hips, and every long, thick inch of him pressing urgently between us.
But more than any of that, I loved his intelligence, his composure, his loyalty, his sense of humor. And I loved how he loved me.
Tilting his head, he asked, “What are you thinking, Mrs. Ryan?”
“I’m thinking how it’s a good thing I love your body so much that I can put up with your disappointing brain.”
He spread his hands around my waist and lifted me, tossing me onto the mattress.
“If you think I’m going to put up with that smart mouth of yours now that we’re married . . .” he began, crawling up the bed and hovering over me.
“Then I’m right?” I finished for him, reaching to wrap my hand around the back of his neck.
He bent to kiss me, giving me a lopsided smile. “Yeah, actually.”