Page 137 of Accidental Mile High Vows

“Savannah.” My name is a prayer on his lips.

“I’m here. I’m right here.”

My hands slide under his T-shirt, palms gliding over the hard planes of his back, the ink I know by heart. He yanks the shirt off, then peels mine away. My breasts are fuller since Dante, nipples darker, sensitive. He cups them gently, thumbs circling until I arch, a soft moan slipping out.

“Still so beautiful,” he murmurs, lowering his mouth. His tongue flicks one peak, then the other, sucking gently, then harder when I gasp his name. My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him there, begging without words.

He kisses lower, over the soft curve of my belly, lingering where it’s still rounded from carrying our son.

I pull him back up, needing his mouth on mine. I reach between us, shove his sweatpants down, wrap my hand around his cock, already leaking for me. He groans into my mouth, hips jerking.

“Inside me,” I breathe. “Now. I need my husband inside me.”

He settles between my thighs, nudging them wider. The head of his cock brushes my entrance, slick and ready. He doesn’t rush. He slides in slow, inch by inch, eyes locked on mine, watching every flicker across my face.

When he’s buried to the hilt, we both exhale like we’ve been holding our breath for months.

“God, Savannah,” he rasps. “You feel like home.”

He starts to move, long, deep strokes that drag over every sensitive spot inside me. I wrap my legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, urging him deeper. Our bodies find the rhythm we’ve perfected, slow at first, savoring, then faster, harder, chasing the connection we’re terrified to lose.

I arch against him, pulling him deeper. My fingers dig into his back, holding on like he might disappear if I let go.

“Don’t forget me,” I whisper. “Two years is a long time. Don’t forget what this feels like.”

“Never.” He moves faster, harder. “I could never forget you.”

His hand finds mine, fingers lacing tight, pinning it beside my head. His forehead drops to mine, breath mingling. “Look at me,” he whispers. “Don’t close your eyes. I want to see you when you come.”

I force my eyes open, meet his gaze, dark, fierce, full of love. Every thrust pushes me higher, pleasure coiling tight and bright behind my navel. He shifts his angle, hits that perfect spot, and I cry out, nails digging into his shoulder.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls, voice breaking. “Let me feel you. Let me feel my wife come apart for me.”

I’m close, so close. His hips snap harder, the bed creaking softly, city lights strobing over sweat-slick skin. I clench around him deliberately, and he groans, pace faltering.

“Ledger, I’m?—”

“Me too. Come with me, princess. Now.”

One more deep thrust and I shatter, walls pulsing, milking him in waves. He follows instantly, burying himself deep, spilling hot and endless inside me, our bodies locked together as we fall. His groan is muffled against my neck, my name a broken prayer on his lips.

We stay joined, trembling, hearts hammering in sync. He shifts so his weight isn’t on my chest, forehead still pressed to mine, without pulling out.

Tears slip from the corners of my eyes.

“I’ll feel you every day,” he whispers, thumb brushing the tears away. “Every night I’m gone, I’ll remember this. Remember being inside you, feeling you come around me, knowing you’re waiting.”

“I’ll be right here,” I promise, voice cracking. “Every visiting day. Every phone call. Every second.”

“I love you,” he says. “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” I press a kiss to his chest. “And I’ll be here when you get out.”

“Promise me you’ll be happy. That you won’t just sit around waiting for two years.”

“I’ll live my life. Take care of our son. Run the businesses. But I’ll also be waiting. Because you’re worth waiting for.”

Eventually, we make love again. Slower this time. Tender. Saying with our bodies what words can’t capture.