“I love you, Mrs. Reyes,” Mateo whispers, clasping his hand in mine for our walk down the aisle as husband and wife.
“What a beautiful ceremony,” Letty says, the second we reach the end of the aisle.
“Thank you,” I reply, knowing good and well she wanted us to marry in the church.
“It was no St. Peters, but still, very lovely.”
Mateo nods, his lips twitching with a barely suppressed smile. “Thank you, Mamá.”
“And thank you for allowing us to use your yard,” I tack on.
“Of course.” My mother-in-law grins. “Now, come, let us celebrate your union.”
The next several house pass in a blur of toasts, well wishes, dancing, and mingling, until finally only a few stragglers are left.
I try and help with the cleanup, desperate to get my husband alone so I can give him his wedding gift, but Lety isn’t having it.
“You two go; we have this under control,” she says, shooing us out the door.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue, but Mateo doesn’t need to be told twice.
I can’t help but admire his profile as he drives. He’s so insanely handsome—and so totally mine. He takes notice and entwines our hands together and tugs my hand close enough to kiss.
His lips fuel the burning need within me to make this marriage extra official.
“Let me check us in,” he murmurs, idling the truck in front of the hotel entrance. I fidget the entire time he’s gone.
He returns, room key in hand and parks the truck. “Stay put,” he commands, causing me to pout.
At my door, he bends and scoops me into his arms. “Mateo,” I squeal, throwing my arms around his neck. “You don’t have to carry me.”
“Yes, I do.”
I squirm in his grasp, but he moves steadily ahead, my pleas falling on deaf ears.
He carries me over the threshold of our room—suite actually—stopping only to secure the door before making determined strides to the bed.
Once I’m on my own two feet, he spins me, so my back is to him. He skims his long fingers over my exposed back before nimbly working free the closure.
I love a man with a purpose. And right now, that purpose is getting this dress off as quickly as possible.
I don’t know why I’m nervous, but I can’t help the little flutters of anticipation running through me. Mateo takes his time, helping me onto the bed before worshiping every inch of skin he reveals until I’m wearing nothing but the special pale blue lingerie I purchased specifically for tonight.
“Dios mio,” he groans, slowly running his hands up my body. “You are a vision.” He leans down to place a gentle kiss on my soft swell of my belly. “And all mine.”
I try to sit up, needing to even the clothing score, but he refuses. Instead, I’m gifted with my own private strip show. I’m practically drooling as his suit joins my dress on the floor.
This man is a god. My god.
“Is it crazy that I’m nervous?” I ask in a quiet voice.
“Not at all.” He hovers above me, careful not to put too much pressure on my stomach. “But this is only the beginning.”
Whatever nerves I had disappear in a cloud of lust as he blazes a trail of kisses down my neck, paying special attention to my overly sensitive breasts. I moan under his touch, craving the friction as he rolls his hips, sending a jolt of need directly to my core.
“Tonight, it’s only us.” He trails his lips even lower, running his hand reverently over my bump. “I can’t tell you how much I love seeing you grow with our child.”
“Our son,” I croak out, hoping this little plan of mine doesn’t blow up in my face.
I’ve been sitting on this information for a few days now, and not telling him was the absolute worst form of torture.
I agonized over the perfect gift to give my him on our wedding night. Then it dawned on me. I could easily take a blood test to find out the sex of our child.
Judging from his glassy eyes and wobbly smile, it was the perfect gift.
“Un hijo—a son?” His eyes drop to my stomach again. “You are sure?”
I beam brightly at him as he caresses the space below my naval. “One hundred percent.”
Without warning, he straightens his posture and captures my lips with his. This kiss is one fueled by equal parts joy and desire. Mateo makes quick work of removing the remaining lingerie before lining himself up at my entrance.
“I love you, my wife.” He enters me slowly.
“I love you too,” I cry, as he pulls nearly all the way out of me before slamming back into me in a way that has my back arching while I beg for more.
Mateo plays my body with expertise, knowing exactly where to touch, where to kiss, what spots to hit until I’m practically seeing stars and begging for release.