Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
“The third time is the charm.” Ryan patted Delaney’s hand as the waves crashed into the shore. “That’s the idea behind this marriage, isn’t it?”
Not another marriage. More like a final ceremony. Because Nash had insisted. He’d said that he wanted to do things right.
They were on a beach. She was carrying fresh daisies.
Nash’s family was there. His parents beamed at him from their spot in the front row of the carefully arranged line of chairs.
And Agnes had actually already headed down the aisle, sniffling and dabbing at tears as the matron of honor made her way across the sand.
Delaney wore a dress she’d designed herself, one very similar to the long-ago dress that she’d sketched out when she used to fantasize about marrying Nash and having a happily-ever-after with him.
The sun had drifted low in the sky. The golden hour was upon them.
Nash waited. A smile curved his lips as he stared at her. She couldn’t help but smile back as joy filled her. “He insisted,” Delaney replied to Ryan.
It had been two months since the nightmare in Vegas.
Two months since Nash had been told to dig his own grave, and, instead, Kurt had gotten locked away for life.
Delaney had turned over all of her grandfather’s assets and holdings to the CIA.
The agency was still ripping away at the fabric that had been Typhon’s world—both when Typhon had been Carmello Ricci and when Kurt had been ruling the criminal empire.
She’d grieved for her father. Her mother.
She’d gone with Nash to visit the grave of his biological mother.
They’d even met Nash’s biological father, a man who had never known about Nash’s existence and who’d cried when he’d met his son.
His bio dad was at the ceremony, too. Watching. Smiling with everyone else.
Time had passed. The physical wounds they’d all suffered had healed. Now…
Nash wanted her to marry him at the ceremony of her dreams. A renewal ceremony, technically, since they were already legally husband and wife.
No organist played. The Wedding March didn’t drift through the air. She could smell the crisp scent of the ocean and hear those wonderful, pounding waves.
But before she moved down the aisle, her head turned toward Ryan. “Thank you,” she told him.
“For what? Tricking you into a real wedding back in Vegas?” He winced. “I need to apologize for that, don’t I?”
“Thank you for always protecting Nash.”
“He’s my brother.” Simple. “I’d die for him.”
She knew that was true. But, “How about you keep living? How about we all do that?” Delaney pressed onto her toes and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “You got him out of the CIA. I know you did.”
He patted her hand once again. “It wasn’t the life he should’ve had.”
She eased back. “What about your life?”
A wide grin curved his lips. “Haven’t you heard?” He looked particularly debonair and James Bond-like in his tux. “I live for danger.”
There was more to life than danger.
“Nash is waiting.” Gruff. His grin had faltered. “I hope you’re both happy.”
She was happy. “I want you happy, too.” Maybe one day Ryan would find someone who was a match for him. Someone who could handle his danger and see past his charming grin to the real man he hid from so many people in the world.
The real man…The one who loved his family. The one who never backed down. The one who would face any threat head-on.
Her shoulders straightened. Delaney pulled in a deep breath as her head angled back toward Nash. He stood patiently near the edge of the beach, right where the waves rushed up to tease the shore. The golden light hit his dark hair.
She began to walk toward him. Not in high heels.
But in bare feet that brushed over the sand.
Agnes still sniffled from her position near Nash.
Sniffling from happiness or pregnancy hormones or from both—it was hard to tell for sure what caused her tears.
Agnes’s husband stood beside Nash. A rather intense, somewhat scary fellow.
His eyes were locked on his wife, and the expression on his face…
Even intense and scary fellows could apparently worship their wives.
Grayson Stone was in attendance, too. Holding the hand of his wife, Emerson.
And, of course, the ceremony would not have been complete without Jezebel Jenkins. Jezebel was currently dabbing at her eyes with a blue handkerchief as she huddled next to Nash’s parents.
Blue.
Delaney smiled. Ryan had been handing out blue handkerchiefs to everyone in attendance. Even though it was technically a renewal ceremony, he’d made sure she had everything on her lucky wedding list.
Something old…she still wore the engagement ring that Nash had bought for her so long ago.
Something new…the dress she’d designed.
Something borrowed…Agnes had loaned Delaney the wedding veil that she wore. Agnes had used it in her own wedding, not too long ago.
Something blue…that would be the handkerchiefs that Ryan had supplied to everyone.
Yes, she had all the items on her list.
Delaney stopped in front of Nash. He was her most important item. The husband who loved her. The spy who’d fought for her. The man who owned her heart.
“I love you,” Delaney said.
Nash bent down and kissed her.
“That’s not supposed to happen yet,” Ryan muttered, because he was still close. “Dude, it’s like the second time you’ve done this with her. You know the drill.”
And Nash just continued kissing her.
He carried her over the threshold, and this time, Delaney didn’t argue about it. She kept one arm locked around his neck. He was kissing her as they crossed the threshold, and somehow, Nash actually managed to slam the door behind him.
A honeymoon suite. One right on the beach at their five-star, tropical resort.
Delaney loves me. She’s mine. She’s safe.
He didn’t want to stop kissing her. He never wanted to let her go. Some days, it felt as if he’d lived a lifetime without her, and when Nash thought of all the years they’d been apart…
Never want that again. Only want her.
Slowly, very, very slowly, he let Delaney slide to her feet. Her body brushed against his. She still wore the wedding dress that she’d made. To him, she looked like some sort of fairytale princess. The most perfect vision he’d ever seen.
She smiled at him. Her hands went to the back of the dress, and he heard a low hiss.
The zipper gave way. The fabric pooled at her feet. And Delaney…
“Fuck.” That was pretty much all he could manage. Delaney had not been wearing any underwear beneath her wedding dress. Her pert nipples thrust toward him. Her curving hips tempted him, and that sweet, sweet paradise between her legs promised him the best pleasure of his life.
“Yes, I thought we’d do that. At the first opportunity.” She stepped out of the dress. Kicked it to the side as if she hadn’t spent hours and hours painstakingly making the dream gown. “I would very much like to fuck my husband.”
He reached out. Caught her left hand. Brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Make love,” he corrected. “It’s always love with you.”
She smiled at him. Her smile made him want to take on the world.
He picked her up again. She laughed, and her legs curled around him. Her bare sex pushed over the front of his tuxedo pants. His eager cock shoved against her, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into Delaney. To get lost in her again and again.
He carried her to the bed. Champagne chilled on the nightstand. Just as it had chilled in their Vegas honeymoon suite.
But this scene was so different from Vegas. There were no more threats. No more fears. He had Delaney. She knew all of his secrets. She loved him.
He lowered her onto the bed. His hands trembled faintly as he touched her. Carefully, tenderly, he put her on the edge of the mattress. Then he began to strip. Her eyes drifted over him as he tossed away his tux coat. As he unbuttoned his shirt.
His thick cock ached with need.
My wife. I want my wife.
There was no one in this world he would ever want more.
He ditched the rest of his clothes in record time. Yet before he could reach for her, Delaney rose. Naked, she reached for the champagne. She poured him a glass. Poured herself one.
He took one champagne flute from her hand.
“To forever,” Delaney said.
Hell, yes.
Their glasses lightly touched. He drained his champagne. It was good. Light. Sweet. But he knew something even sweeter. And he would be tasting that.
She took a few sips from her drink. Even as she was putting the flute back down, he was tumbling her into the big bed. His hands were hungry and eager. His mouth demanding and caressing at the same time. He kissed her breasts. Licked her nipples and sucked hard, savoring every single bit of her.
My wife.
Down, down he went. Pushing her thighs wide as he slid between her legs. But…
He stopped.
“Nash?”
He reached for her champagne flute.
“What are you doing?” Delaney asked.
He poured a little of that champagne between her thighs.
She gasped. “Nash!”
He poured a little more champagne. Dropped the flute beside the bed and bent to taste his prize.
Yes, the champagne was sweet, but she was even better.
He lapped her up, licking and sucking every single drop of drink—every single drop of Delaney.
Tasting her again and again even as his fingers thrust into her.
One finger, then a second. So tight. So hot.
So sweet.
He savored every single bit of her. Relentlessly took and took as she arched against his mouth. Her nails bit into his shoulders. He licked her clit. Sucked it. Hard.
She came. A wild cry broke from her lips, and he kept tasting all of her as she climaxed against his mouth.
Then he was surging up. His body lifting. His dick pushed against the entrance to her body, and he sank in deep. As far as he could go in one long, hard thrust. She was still coming around him. Her muscles squeezed and pumped him.
He rolled on the bed, moving her on top of him. Her knees pushed down onto the mattress as she straddled him. Nash’s hands caught her hips. He lifted her up, down. Faster. Harder.
“Touch yourself, baby,” he growled. “Touch yourself for me.”
Her breath heaved. One small hand pressed to his chest as she balanced herself. The other slid between their bodies, wedging down. But she didn’t touch herself as he’d ordered. She lifted up, and her fingers curled around the base of his dick. She squeezed him. Tightened her grip so deliciously.
His hips flew off the bed as he pounded into her.
Her fingers broke from him, and, yes, she stroked her clit. Her head tipped back as she moaned and that was the end for him.
He blasted his release into her even as Delaney came again.
It should have been tender. It should have been sweet.
It wasn’t.
The climax ripped through him and a guttural roar poured from his lips.
“There’s more champagne.”
Nash cracked open an eye.
Delaney was reaching for the champagne bottle.
“I am so thirsty,” she said.
But…
She didn’t reach for a flute. She brought the bottle over him. Over his dick.
Both eyes flew open. “Delaney!”
She poured a little of the champagne on him. Nash hissed out a breath.
“Cold, isn’t it?” she murmured. “I noticed that, too.” She put down the bottle. “But don’t worry, I know just how to warm you up.” Her mouth closed around him.
He fisted the sheets.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
His wife definitely knew how to warm him up.
“Are we going to talk about it?” Delaney asked as she rolled toward him.
They were in bed. The balcony doors were open. The sun was rising.
He curled an arm around her and marveled at the softness of her skin.
My wife. There was no world where he would ever grow tired of thinking about her that way.
There was also no world where he would ever stop loving her.
But the love of his life had just lost him with her question.
“Talk about what?” Nash asked. Had four times been too many? Or could she take him again?
“About the person who caught my bouquet.”
A smile teased at his lips.
She gave a thoughtful hum. “I was so sure the flowers were going toward Jezebel…”
Yeah, it had certainly looked that way to him, too, but then a powerful gust of wind had taken those flowers straight to someone else. They’d actually slammed into the head of that someone else.
And Ryan had been given no choice but to grab the flowers that had hit him.
“But then Ryan snagged them,” she finished. “I know he’s only minorly stitious but…”
He blinked. Twice. “What in the hell is stitious?”
“Some people are superstitious. Ryan assured me he was minorly stitious.”
Nash shook his head against the pillow. Laughter poured from him. “Bullshit. He’s the most superstitious man I’ve ever met.” A grin lingered on his lips. “I’ve seen him throw entire saltshakers over his shoulder.”
She sent him her beautiful smile. “Well, then.”
Just that. “Uh, well, then…what?”
“When do you think he’ll be getting married?”
“He’s going on another mission. Somewhere in Europe.
” Nash didn’t know more than that because the job was classified.
Seeing as how Nash was officially no longer part of the CIA, he didn’t get access to classified intel.
“He’s not going to fall in love. He’s going to fight bad guys. Ryan is off to save the world.”
But her eyes gleamed at him, catching the rising sunlight. “Who says that he can’t do all of the above? This is your brother. Pretty sure he’s a multitasker.”
Yeah, Ryan was a multitasker. It wasn’t Ryan’s future wife who interested him, though.
Nash was focused on his own wife. His beautiful Delaney.
The glow of the rising sun turned her skin a gorgeous gold.
Nash forgot about his brother and the bouquet and focused on the only task that he wanted to complete. “Can you take me again?”
“I can take you…always…” Husky. Breathy. Tempting.
Nash leaned toward her. His lips pressed to hers.
My wife.
He was such a lucky bastard.
“Always, Nash,” she promised. “Always.”
THE END