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“Let’s run off into the night again, Diana.”

Diana laughed, shaking her head as the curricle lurched forward. She loved her wicked rake so much.

“Only this time,” she mused, “I don’t have to climb out of some poor maid’s window.”

“Why not? The endeavor tore your skirt so delectably.”

“Not my wedding dress!” she gasped, scandalized.

He groaned dramatically, pressing a hot kiss to her neck. “I will do all I can not to tear it off you.”

She knew where they were going. That cute, little place they shared a night in. Now, she was going back as the lady of the house—a role she had never imagined she would have. Being completely his, not just for five promenades.

They entered the house, and it seemed as deserted as it was back then. James took her cloak and guided her once more into the familiar living room, which somehow already felt like home.

“We are again alone in here.” He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back against his front. “You can scream my name all you want.”

His hands roved over her, touching her everywhere.

“I know how you like to scream, Diana.”

Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip. “Only because you know how to make me.”

“God, yes!”

He didn’t even bother to take her somewhere appropriate for their first night as a married couple. He just lowered her onto the table, which was laden with her favorite pastries. He picked up one and lifted it to her mouth. She bit into it and then licked her lips slowly.

She, too, knew what she was doing.

“I may know how to make you scream, but you know how to make me beg, my flower.”

She took another bite from the pastry, and James smiled.

“Am I allowed to kiss you now, or do you want to finish your dessert?” he teased.

“It was a poor choice to give me a pastry at this moment, James.” She smirked.

“You mean to tell me that you prefer pastries to me?”

She shrugged and bit into the pastry once more.

“Hm,” James murmured as if deep in thought.

He dipped his finger in a chocolate mousse that was on the table and placed it on her lips. She opened her mouth and licked hisfinger clean. He moaned deeply, his body locking tightly, his breath coming in shallow bursts.

“Oh, I think we will find a way to compromise, My Lady,” he said darkly.

He stepped into her, his hips trapped between her legs. Then, he kissed her.And God,it was unlike any kiss they had shared before. This was not the kiss of a rake stealing a moment in secret. Not the desperate hunger of lovers lost in temptation. This was a vow, a promise more sacred than any spoken at the altar.

His mouth found hers in a slow, devastating kiss, his lips moving with a reverence that burned, a devotion that unraveled.

“I love you,” he murmured against her lips. “Tell me you know that.”

“I know. And I love you,” she said softly.

Their foreheads touched.

“Is this real?” Diana muttered, lost in bliss.

“It is, my love, my wallflower, my life,” James whispered.

“Well, according to Plato, reality—” Diana teased.

James interrupted all philosophical wanderings with another scorching kiss.

This was their life, their love. This was forever.

The End?