Sandy stared. “Did you think of everything?”
“I made a concerted effort. And if you want another wedding somewhere down the line—a proper one, with friends and family, and no Elvis officiating, we’ll make it happen.”
She winced. “I’m thinking it might be a good thing I don’t remember much of that ceremony.”
“There’s video.”
Surely, she hadn’t heard him right. “Video?”
“They told me when I stopped by the chapel to ask. I bought a copy, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to watch it.”
It took a moment to process the stunning horror of that. “I’m not sure how I feel about there being video evidence of our recklessness. If The ’Berg got ahold of that…”
“The ’Berg?”
“As in the tip of the iceberg. It’s as close as Wishful has to a tabloid. A few years ago, somebody decided to add a little modern to the gossip mill, so they started a blog. Nobody actually knows who’s behind it, and it is, unfortunately, widely read. Video of the mayor’s drunk Vegas wedding would be the creme de la creme that beats out Dinner Belles and The Grind. And God knows the internet is forever.”
“I don’t need the real tabloids getting their hands on it for my own reputation. I’ll destroy it.”
“Without watching it first?”
“Unless you want to see it, then yeah.”
She didn’t want to watch it, but it somehow seemed a shame to wipe out the one piece of information that could fill in some of the blanks from their trip to Vegas. “You’re not even a little curious?”
“It wasn’t the wedding you deserve. None of it was what you deserve. I’ll make it up to you.”
His expression was so earnest, she couldn’t help but reach out to frame his face again. “Okay, let’s make a pact.”
“About?”
“Let’s stop beating ourselves up for how we got married and focus on the fact that we are. I don’t want the tone of the rest of our marriage to be tainted with regrets.” She stroked her fingers along his nape, staring into his eyes. “I don’t regret this, Trey. I don’t regret you.”
“No?”
Sandy shook her head. “No. In fact, out of all of this, I only have one real regret, other than how I behaved yesterday.”
He tensed again. “What’s that?”
She ran her hands lightly along the slope of his shoulders before bringing her gaze back to his. “That I don’t remember much about what came after the wedding.”
The slow smile that spread over his face was full of hot promises and satin sheets. “Well now, I expect we could work on a reenactment of the wedding night.”
Heart thumping, Sandy looped her arms around his neck. “That sounds like an excellent plan, Mr. Peyton.”
“As you wish, Mrs. Peyton.”
Mrs. Peyton. For so many years, she’d been branded by the lingering reminder of her first marriage, opting to keep Crawford for Cam’s sake, instead of going back to Campbell. Who knew the prospect of finally being free of it would be so welcome? Or maybe that was the clever mouth Trey had pressed to hers.
Sandy sank into the kiss, into him, letting go of the stress and worry of the past couple of days to just feel.
He laid her back on the thick rug in front of the fire, his toned body stretching out beside hers. She wanted the weight of him, wanted to peel him out of those wet clothes. She reached between them, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as he made love to her mouth, seducing her with long, drugging kisses. His hand slipped beneath her shirt and the simple contact was shocking. No one had touched her bare skin in years. Not since…
“Wait.”
He nuzzled at her throat. “What’s wrong? Uncomfortable? Do you want to move to a bed?”
“Later.” She was vain enough to prefer the firelight. “It’s just…there are things you probably didn’t notice the first time we did this.” At the thought of it, the lovely liquid pull in her belly turned to knots.