Each time it grew a little dirtier until I worried he was going to clear the wedding table with a sweep of his arm and lay me down on it. But when Kristin told us the band would be starting our first dance song soon, and a symphony of knives tinkling against crystal rang out, Bennett simply leaned over and said, “If you put your tongue in my mouth again, I’m leaving this fucking wedding and taking you to bed, Mrs. Ryan.”

“Well, I’ll then keep it chaste, Mr. Mills. Because I want cake.”

His eyes fell closed and he leaned forward, gently touching his lips to mine. How did he manage to blend sweet and commanding so seamlessly?

We walked to the center of the dance floor amid hushed silence. The first few chords of the song began and Bennett gave me a devilish grin before pulling me close with both hands gripping my ass. The room exploded in raucous cheers and I looked up at him, shaking my head as if it bothered me.

It so fucking didn’t.

Without shoes, I was so much shorter than he was, and still sometimes hated not being able to see him eye to eye, even when we were dancing at our wedding. I stood on my tiptoes, swayed in his arms, and after only about half a minute I felt him reach around my waist and lift me so we were face-to-face, my feet dangling several inches off the ground.

“Better?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“Much.” I twisted my fingers in his hair and leaned to slide my mouth over his.

Camera flashes exploded around us and I could imagine hundreds of pictures of Bennett holding me, spinning me slowly, my still-dirty feet telling anyone who would look at the picture in the future what kind of wedding day we’d had: perfect.

The song drew to an end, but it was several long beats after the final notes before Bennett put me down.

“I love you,” he said, letting his eyes roam my entire face before coming to settle on my lips.

“I love you, too.”

“Holy shit. You’re my wife.”

Laughing, I said, “We’re married. That’s insane. Who let this happen?”

He didn’t even break a smile. Instead, his eyes grew heavy, his voice even lower. “I’m going to disrespect the fuck out of you later.”

The entire surface of my skin felt flushed and silvery.

He released me, letting me slide down his body and groaning quietly as my hip pressed against the length of his cock, half hard already. “I’m tempted to disrespect you now,” he said. “But my wife wanted cake.”