The elevator dings—our floor.
“Go on,” I urge as we step off. “I won’t tell if you’ve murdered anyone before.”
She bursts out laughing. Loud. Carefree. “No murders. I promise.”
We round the corner, stop in front of the suite. It’s sleek and massive—bigger than the house I grew up in with my dad and Nonna in Argentina.
She’s still holding my hand, still in that ridiculously sexy black dress that tonight has transformed into a wedding gown. Her fingers are warm. Her grip hasn’t loosened once.
And as I reach for the keycard, it hits me—I don’t care how we got here. I just care that we are here. Now.
I swipe the key and open the door.
She pauses at the threshold, turning to me. “Aren’t you supposed to carry me?”
I grin, stepping toward her. “What was I thinking?” I scoop her into my arms. “Come here, wife.”
When I scoop her into my arms, her shoes hit the floor with a soft thud—but all I hear is the wild pounding in my chest. We lock eyes, and for a split second, everything slows. Craziest fucking thing in the world, and yet… it doesn’t feel crazy at all.
“Kiss me, Americana. Kiss your husband.”
And she does. Sweet and sinful, all in the same breath. Her lips taste like tequila and trouble. Like something I never knew I’d crave until just now.
Chapter nineteen
Permission & Promises
Declan
That one night in Las Vegas.
I kick the door shut behind us and carry her across the threshold like we didn’t just meet hours ago. Like this is something we’ve been building toward for years. Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging, gripping, as she pants against my mouth and frantically licks and sucks my bottom lip like she’s starving for me.
“This is really beautiful,” she whispers, breath hitching.
I smirk into her mouth. “How can you tell? You haven’t even opened your eyes yet.”
She lets out a low laugh. “Maybe I wasn’t talking about the suite.”
That wrecks me. Whatever little patience I had left is gone.
“Does this fucking thing come off?” I growl, tugging at the lacy fabric hugging her curves.
She gasps. “Careful! This is a Crash Steele original!”
I toss her onto the bed, her laugh echoing like a dare. “We’ll get you another one.”
And with one swift pull, the delicate dress tears right down the middle. She gasps again—but this time, it’s not about the dress.
It’s about what comes next.
“You’rebeautiful,” I choke out.
“Because I’m naked?”
“Because you’re mine.”
I lean down and kiss her, soft, slow, tender. Like I’ve waited my whole life to find this exact moment, with this exact woman. Maybe I have.