“Wooing?”
“Yep. All the woo,” he says. “So much woo, you’ll probably get tired of it.”
“Never,” I chirp. “No such thing as too much woo.”
“I’ll take that as a challenge,” he says. “And afterward, if you’re up for it, I’d like to plan another wedding for us. I won’t say arealwedding, because we had one of those already.We’re legally married for sure. But when you’re ready, I want to stand up before all our dearly beloveds and pledge myself to you forever, knowing you truly mean it too.”
I nod and sniffle and nod some more. “Yes,” I say. “Yes!”
“Is that a yes to the date?”
“It’s a yes to everything,” I say. “To each little bit.”
“All right then. I’m going to stand up now,” he says, his voice deep and edged with gravel. “And then I’m going to kiss my wife.”
Reader, what Bridger does next should be its own romance novel.
With one palm at the curve of my spine, and the other cupping my face, he eases us both backward until I’m pressed against the wall, which has been done before, no doubt, by plenty of other heroes. But here’s the extra good part.
He tucks his whole big body around me first, so I feel nothing but secure. Sheltered. Safe.
Only then does he tip my chin up, granting himself greater access to my lips. My throat. My neck. Heat blooms in my cheeks, and I give up a silent prayer of thanks that this isn’t a high-traffic alcove.
Please, nobody come looking for the birthday boy.
And then, somehow, Bridger Adams manages to be all things to my lips at once. He covers both sides of the spectrum with a single mouth. Does that make him sound like a kissing superhero?
Well, so be it.
The man is tender and passionate. Patient but urgent. Gentle and possessive. Eager and reverent.
In short, my husband totally owns me with his kisses.
And in return, I choose him, completely.
By now, every cell in my body is shouting to the world that I am this man’s wife.
This most excellent man with the strongest arms and thekindest heart and the best taste in scientists. This man, who has pledged to take his time with our relationship and let us grow together. Who’s sworn to protect me always. And who promised my father he’d take care of me every day for the rest of our lives.
Nothing is truly lost that is still loved.
And Bridger Adams is going to love me forever.
When we finally come up for air, I’m gasping and laughing and grinning and basically vibrating with joy. So I snatch his flashing hat from where he dropped it on the floor and secure it on top of his head. Because this is a party after all.
“I think you might actually be thirty-one now,” I say, a bit breathlessly.
“Great.” He wags his brow. “So, how did I do, wife?”
“You were perfect,” I say.
Then he kisses me again.
Ten out of ten.
No notes.
Epilogue