Chapter 22 Delaney
DELANEY
My sister once told me it makes sense if you feel like everything in your life is falling apart.
Your new life will cost you your old one.
And after tonight, I think I finally understand what she meant.
—Delaney’s Secret Thoughts
Sitting at the head table with Lexie at the end of the night isn’t exactly how I pictured my wedding reception ending. But my company is perfect, and my view is pretty incredible, so why should I complain?
Lexie leans her head against my shoulder and sighs. “You doing okay, Lane?”
I look at her, really look at this woman who accepted me into her circle and now helped ease my transition into her family, and my heart settles. “You know what, Lex? I think I am. I think I’m better than okay.”
Ryker’s head swings my way as if he can sense my thoughts, and his smile grows predatory.
He stands in front of the bar, his brother on one side, Hendrix and Lexie’s husband, Lucky, on the other.
Beautiful smiles on their faces. Relaxed and happy.
His jacket discarded hours ago. And hello, arm porn.
My husband’s sleeves are rolled up, a chunky, expensive watch wrapped around his wrist, and all his glorious ink is on display, dancing along his skin and covering all his corded muscle.
I feel like I went from inexperienced to full-blown ho for my husband pretty quickly, but does it really count if it’s just for him?
Who am I kidding? I don’t even care.
“Well.” Lexie clears her throat, drawing my attention back to her. “I’d say that’s a good thing because your husband looks like he’s about done with this party.”
And before I can say yes, please, Ryker and Lucky cross the dance floor, heading for us.
His eyes are like a heat-seeking missile focused on me, and I’m not sure if I should run or throw myself at him.
It only takes one small curve of his lips for my heart to decide for me.
Stay it is.
Only time will tell how long.
“Time to go, dolcezza.” Lucky pulls Lexie to her feet and throws her over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes with a swift smack to her ass.
My eyes widen as she giggles and lifts her head to wave goodbye.
“Don’t even think about it, husband.” I tilt my head to the side, tired. “This is the prettiest thing I’ve ever owned, and if you toss me over your shoulders, it will rip wide open.”
He holds his hand out for me instead and pulls me to my feet, steadying me as I slip my feet back in my heels.
With a hand on my face, he tilts my chin up to him, and the steady current of electricity that’s hummed between us all night sparks back to life.
“Tell me, Bambi, was your wedding day everything you ever dreamed of?”
I slide my arms around his shoulders and let him take my weight in his hands. “It was more, Ryker. I never dreamed of this night. I never planned it or thought about it because I never made plans further than a few weeks ahead at a time.”
“And now?” he pushes, swinging me into his arms like he’s about to carry me over a threshold instead of through an entire vineyard. “How do you feel about plans now, wife?”
I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, exhaustion pulling at me. “They’re growing on me.”
But as he turns, I open my eyes again, certain we’re going— “Ryker . . . the parking lot is the other way.”
“It is, mia moglie.”
“Then why aren’t we going that way?” I ask, confused.
“Because we’re not going to the parking lot. I rented out the bed and breakfast.”
“What?” My head pops up, and I tighten my hold while Ryker walks us along a lantern-lit path toward a beautiful building with a massive wraparound porch. “Like rented out the whole bed and breakfast?”
“Yeah, baby. The whole thing. I plan to make you scream. Loudly. Couldn’t have any neighbors complaining.”
Any lingering exhaustion is suddenly very forgotten as I find my second wind.
“My clothes—”
“Are waiting for you in the B&B. Ashton helped me.” He presses his lips to my temple. “The cake’s there too. Lexie was in on it. And Ryleigh has food already waiting for us in case you didn’t eat anything tonight.”
“Always worried about feeding me.”
“Someone has to take care of you,” he murmurs as his legs eat up the distance, and another wall around my heart cracks and crumbles.
No one has ever taken care of me but me.
But I might just like letting this man do it for a change.
“Ryker . . .” He stops on the steps of the wraparound porch, holding me like I weigh nothing. Like I’m something precious to be treasured. “Please don’t break my heart.”
“I’ll protect it with my life, Delaney.”
Tears gather in my eyes as he presses his lips to mine, soft and so damn tender. But the tears fall, no matter how hard I fight to hold them back in.
He opens the door like he’s been here before and takes the stairs two at a time before turning down a hall and walking through a set of double doors leading to a candlelit bedroom with a massive cherrywood four-poster bed in the center, covered in rose petals.
A beautiful song plays softly in the background. One I’m sure I heard earlier tonight.
Gently, I’m placed on my feet and steadied before Ryker kisses the rings on my finger. “Dance with me, Delaney.”
“Always, Ryker.” I don’t know what it is, but this moment, right here.
This simple quiet moment between just us .
. . this one scares me more than any other today.
But that’s a lie. I do know what it is. This moment is real.
This moment is just for us. Not for show.
Not because someone said to smile. And this moment is the one that wrecks me.
With my head on his chest, I move with my husband so far past the point of gone, I’m not sure I’m ever coming back.
“Do you trust me, Delaney?” His words are a whisper against my face. Hot and heavy and scarier than any question he’s ever asked.
Because the answer is easy, and that’s the hardest part.
The answer leaves me open and vulnerable.
Pulling my head back so he can see my mouth, I run my hand along his jaw. Anchoring myself to him. To this moment. “I do trust you, Ryker.”
“Thank fucking God.”
And like a switch has been flipped . . . like he needs me more than his next breath, more than the air he breathes, he’s on me. His mouth on mine. His tongue tangling with mine as he swings me into his arms and carries me to the four-poster bed and lays me on the petals.
“Have I told you how incredible you look in this dress, baby?”
His eyes are hungry as he licks his lips and rips his tie free, but I’m not here to be a bystander on my own wedding night.
I push up to my knees and crawl to him. My fingers going to the shiny black buttons of his crisp white shirt.
Working each one free until I shove it off his shoulders and toss it to the floor, giving me unfettered access to his beautiful chest.
I press a kiss to his heart. “You may have told me earlier, but it’s still nice to hear.”
“Oh, I’m going to be nice, baby.” He spins me around and presses his lips against my neck.
His hot breath teasing my skin as his fingers make quick work of the dozens of tiny pearl buttons lining the back of my dress.
He presses kiss after kiss down my spine and groans, “Fuck, baby. These dimples . . .” His lips worship the two dimples above my ass. “I’m fucking obsessed with them.”
Looking over my shoulder, I smile at the sight behind me.
“Ryker . . . wait.” I pull away and stand on shaky legs, letting the thin Italian silk straps of my gown slide down my arms, and carefully push my dress down my body, then step out of it.
Suddenly nervous, standing here in a matching Italian silk thong the girls gifted me with a wedding night negligee set I doubt I’ll be wearing and absolutely nothing else.
The cool air licks my skin, and Ryker chokes on his own breath.
“My God, Delaney.” He drops his ass to the bed, and I step between his legs as his hands go to my hips, and he buries his face in my chest.
I dig my hands in his hair and hold him, wondering why touching him calms my racing nerves.
Why this feels so right.
He lifts me again and tosses me to the bed with a bounce, and before a hysterical laugh bubbles up from my throat, he’s on me. His hands slide to the two thin silk strings of my thong, and this man snaps them right off my body. Rips them with his bare hands.
Holy shit.
Why is that hot?
And why, when he stuffs them in his pocket with a deliciously cocky grin, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, does my pulse pound faster?
“You going to make me beg, pretty boy?” My voice is sexy and thready, and I barely recognize the words as they fall from my lips before Ryker’s hands slide along my thighs, pushing them open. Baring me to him. His fingers tease my sex. Stroking. Circling. Driving me wild.
He slides two fingers inside me, his eyes locked on mine as he leans over me. “Doesn’t feel like you’re begging now, does it, baby?”
I arch into him, already desperate for more, and attack his mouth, then pull back when something sticky touches my neck. “What—”
Ryker’s eyes are liquid pools of need as he drags his fingers through the icing of the cake that’s been set next to the bed. Painting it along my neck and down my chest. His tongue licks lazy circles along the same path as he stuffs his fingers inside me.
I’m already on sensation overload when his teeth graze my nipple, and I fucking scream. So close to tipping over the edge already. But not without him. Not tonight.
“Ryker,” I pant and reach for his belt. “I want you. All of you. Please.”
“Patience, wife,” he groans and adds a second finger. “So tight. So fucking hot.”
“I’ve been patient all night. Please . . . You said I didn’t have to beg.”
“But you’re so pretty when your pussy’s full of my fingers, Delaney.”
Heat pools in my core as my thighs tremble and my husband presses a kiss to my lips, devouring me. He climbs over me, settling between my legs and stuffs a third finger inside, brushing against a spot that has me seeing stars. “Oh God.”
“Eyes on me, Lane.”
“Fuck.” I shake, my orgasm right there on the verge, and force my eyes open in time to see him pull his fingers from my body. A delicious growl builds in his chest as he traces them along my lips before crushing his mouth over mine.
And before I can take my next breath, he rolls a condom down and slaps my pussy so deliciously hard, I see stars as he plunges inside me. “Watch me fuck you, Lane. Watch us.”
Big, rough hands worship every curve of my body. The dip of my waist. The swell of my breasts. The curve of my ass. Worshipping me. Taking his time when I want him to rush.
I dig my heels into his back, urging him on as my orgasm lingers on the horizon, so close but just out of reach. And, oh God, when his hand wraps around my neck, tearing a breathy moan from me, I know I’m close.
“Let me feel you, Lane. Let me feel the way I make you come.”
“Ryker,” I cry and shake, unsure how much more I can take. “I don’t—oh fuck. Don’t stop.”
“Never, Lane.” He thrusts into me again and again, fucking me harder. Faster. Slamming into me over and over. One thumb on my clit. The other on my pulse as I shatter. A kaleidoscope of color shattering behind my eyes while I come with my husband’s name on my lips.
Irrevocably his.