Page 57 of Desert Sky (RB MC #4)

JD

I woke to heat.

Not the sun. Not the fire from the hearth still smoldering low in the stone fireplace.

Her.

Skye.

Skin warm against mine. The soft brush of her leg tangled between mine. One arm flung over my chest like she was staking her claim. She smelled like flowers and smoke and me.

And that simple gold band on her finger winked in the morning light.

My wife.

Fuck. My wife.

I let my eyes drink her in. Her face soft in sleep. Her auburn hair spread like a halo over the pillow. A flush still high on her cheeks from the night before, when I’d made good on every filthy vow I’d whispered beneath that arch of gardenias.

She hadn’t run .

Not this time.

And when I woke up, she was here. Still mine.

I shifted just enough to press my lips to her bare shoulder, tracing the freckles with my mouth. Her skin was warm, like the desert sun had soaked into her during the ceremony and never left.

She stirred. Let out a little hum.

“Mmm. JD?”

I didn’t answer with words. My hand slid down the curve of her back, palming the dip of her waist, slipping under the covers.

She rolled to face me, sleepy and already smiling. “Good morning, husband.”

I was never going to get tired of that.

“Morning, wife.” My voice was gravel and hunger.

I kissed her slow—lazy and deep—like we had all the time in the damn world. Because we did now. We’d earned it.

Her fingers ran through my hair, curled around the back of my neck. “You okay?”

“Never better.” I leaned into her, pressing my forehead against hers. “You’re still here.”

Her breath caught. “Of course I am.”

“After last time… after the bonfire, waking up alone damn near gutted me.”

She looked up at me, eyes soft. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Damn right you’re not.” I rolled her onto her back, blankets slipping to her waist, revealing everything that was mine.

Her full breasts, flushed and tender.

The curve of her hips.

And that faint, subtle change in her belly—the kind of change a man notices when he hasn’t seen it before.

I placed my palm over her stomach.

“You sure you’re late?” I murmured.

Her smile was shy but knowing.

I exhaled slow. A curse, a prayer, and a promise all tangled together.

I kissed her ribs, her navel, the curve of her hip. She arched under me, already squirming.

“Want you,” she whispered.

“You have me,” I said.

I slid between her thighs and sank into her slow—inch by inch—like I was coming home all over again.

She gasped, fingers digging into my back.

“JD…”

Her voice wrecked me.

Our bodies moved together in lazy, heated rhythm, the morning light spilling across the sheets, our hearts pounding like one beat.

“Say it,” I murmured against her lips.

“I’m yours,” she whispered.

“No.” I kissed her harder. “You’re mine . My wife. My everything.”

When she came, she sobbed my name like a vow. And I followed right after, burying my face in her neck and holding her so damn tight.

After, we lay there in silence. Her head on my chest. My hand still on her stomach.

“You think it happened that night?” she asked softly. “At the bonfire?”

I smiled, tracing her shoulder with lazy fingers. “Wouldn’t be surprised. That night felt like fate.”

She kissed my chest. “So what now?”

I kissed her temple .

“Now we live the life we should’ve always had. Together. No more secrets. No more goodbyes. Just this.”

She sighed. Content.

And I knew without a doubt?—

This time, we’d get it right.