The fact is that I’ve done nothing to warrant access to her body—to this treasured temple that’s worthy of my utmost care and respect… I placed her on a pedestal when we were barely more than children. She‘s always been this end game it felt like I might never reach. But I was prepared to put in the work. I might’ve set her free and remained in the shadows for a while, but I always had every intention of returning, And pulling out all the stops when I did.

This—this was too easy.

For years I’ve barely been present in her life. And just because I stepped in and married her in a moment of sheer desperation, when she’d probably have said yes to the fucking milkman, doesn’t give me the right to take what I haven’t earned.

Liquid fire surges right to my dick as my eyes snake over her impeccable form. Despite my noblest intentions, this woman is hellbent on testing every ounce of my restraint, which is already flimsy, at best. “Sammi, I—we…”

“Shhh,” she says, cutting me off with a brief finger press to my lips. She takes a step back before making a show of slipping her fingers beneath the thin strips of elastic holding up the lace barely concealing her pussy. Every bit the seductress, she slinks out of them, one slender, heel-clad foot at a time.

My resolve is a fraying thread. That last move of hers just might be the one to snap it. “Jesus, Sam.” She’s my every wet dream brought to life.

“Please.” The yearning reflected in that lone word is impossible to deny.

I stalk toward her, eating up the distance between us. “I’ve done nothing to deserve you,” I say, trailing a hand from her temple to her chin.

There’s a nagging ache in my chest. I’m plagued with guilt over the fact that this is how our union’s come about.

My Li’l Bit didn’t get the romantic proposal she deserved. We have literally no dating history—just stolen moments, hidden away, like some dirty secret.

Our goddamned wedding was intended for her and another man. And changing the location doesn’t eradicate the fact that her wedding night—tonight—was also meant for him.

How can I, in good conscience, indulge myself in her body—this woman who deserves the world—knowing I put forth no effort whatsoever? Just stepped in and filled the fucking shoes of some other schmuck.

“No,” she rasps, smoothing her hands over my chest. “Don’t do thi—”

Sammi always was too good at reading me.