“Same level of danger as a strapless bra on those tits, as far as I’m concerned. I wasn’t lying when I told you they look insane.”

  “Unzip the dress, banana brain. Or I’ll be sleeping in it.” She looked back at him over her shoulder and broke out the big guns. “Please, August?” she half whispered, trying to look as helpless as possible. “I need your help.”

  His lips parted on a long intake of breath, eyes darkening. “Come here,” he rasped, pulling her backward into his lap and drawing the zipper down slowly. “I’ve got you.”

  She had him, too.

  Right where she wanted him.

  As soon as the opening was loose, she pushed the dress down, lifting her hips to divest herself of the heavy material. She used her foot to slide it off the bed into an ivory heap, her rear end landing soundly back into August’s lap, eliciting a groan.

  “Can’t help but notice you’re half naked in my lap all of a sudden,” he half slurred.

  “Noticed that, did you?”

  “Tradition means nothing to you.” His warm breath slid along her neck, knuckles from both hands traveling upward on her rib cage. “This was a trick.”

  “Evil of me, wasn’t it?” She circled her hips on his lap. “There has to be some way I can make it up to you.”

  “Natalie . . . ” he warned through his teeth. “I told you. We’re not having s—”

  “You can touch my boobs.”

  “Under the bra or over?” he blurted, that big chest heaving at her back.

  The corner of her lips ticked up. Gotcha.

  She pulled down the cups of her strapless bra and guided his hands there, surprised when they didn’t just grab on or handle her breasts too roughly. She should probably stop being surprised by August now. By the way he gently played with her nipples, dragging his thumbs over them, side to side, his mouth beginning to lick and nip at her neck. Oh. Wow. If she didn’t keep control of this situation, she would wake up tomorrow without the upper hand. She might as well raise the white flag and surrender any leverage she had left.

  Climbing off August’s lap, she turned around on her knees, allowing herself a second to savor his choked curse at the sight of her bare breasts—

  And then she shoved him onto his back.

  She raked a hand up and over the distended crotch of his dress pants, stroking him firmly through the material. “My turn.”

  “Blow job?” he asked, hoarsely. Openly hopeful and visibly shocked.

  She nodded.

  “Oh. Okay. Wow. Jesus.” A monster shudder went through his giant frame and he dropped fully onto the bed, his muscular chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. “When you’re fucked, you’re fucked,” he muttered thickly, seemingly to himself.

  He reached down and started unbuckling his belt.

  It shouldn’t have been so hot. Really. It shouldn’t have.

  But those big mitts fumbling with the metal buckle and the eager flex of his abdomen made her tongue heavy in her mouth. So eager that she was kissing his stomach, biting the sinew that ran in a downward-pointing V along his hips.

  “Bite harder,” he said, laboring to breathe, his hands dropping away from the belt. “Harder, please.”

  Oh God. When he begged her to bite harder, she wanted to.

  Badly.

  She sucked a gust of air into her lungs and shot forward, sinking her teeth into the meat of his hip, drawing a shout from August that resonated through her entire body. “Fuck yes,” he growled. There was a brief pause before he lifted his head to look down at her. “Don’t bite my dick, obviously.”

  Natalie giggled.

  He grinned back. A big, bad warrior with an inconvenient charming side. It was alarming, the severe pinch she felt in her chest at that moment, so she closed her eyes and licked over the rope of muscle that ran along his sides, then down to his belly button, wetting a path through those coarse whorls of his hair. Her right hand delved into his pants and . . . okay, she’d expected this.

  Of course it was XL. He was XL.

  But she couldn’t even get her hand around him.

  “Just do the best you can,” he gasped, one hand gripping the sheets, the other one cupping the side of her face. But not to guide her down. It was almost like pregratitude. Oh my God, Natalie is about to suck me off. Oh my God.

  Had she ever felt confident during sex before? She’d always assumed so. She even liked to think of herself as adventurous.

  But now, with this man almost hyperventilating at the thought of her mouth on him, she felt like a goddess. Seductive. So confident in herself and his imminent enjoyment of her that she was almost purring when she drew August’s shaft out through the opening of his pants.

  “Wow,” she whispered, swallowing. “Wow.”

  It swelled further and August bit off a curse, hips twisting right. “Now that’s the reaction a man wants on his wedding night.”

  What was her whole plan about keeping the upper hand?

  Whatever it was, she couldn’t recall the details. Could only lean in and run her tongue up the side of his gorgeously thick shaft, watching his thigh muscles bunch in response. A burst of steam escaped his flared nostrils. From one lick.

  She’d never held a man’s balls in her hand, but instinct had her reaching for August’s, rolling them gently in her palm, and really, there was no way to avoid them, because they were, for lack of a better word, prominent.

  “Son of a bitch. I’m sorry, there is going to be a lot of cursing here tonight. Now. Oh fuck, tug them a little. Rub them fucking rough. Yeah . . . oh . . . yeah. Now do it again while you’ve got that mouth gift-wrapped around my cock. Yes.”

  Natalie’s confidence climbed higher. Wow, he was really, really enjoying everything she was doing. She didn’t have to wonder if her tongue was in the right place or if she was stroking him too hard in her fist, because August was sending a clear message and it read Holy shit, I’ve never been touched so right. Never felt anything this good.

  That fear of rejection or criticism she normally dreaded was quite simply . . . gone.

  The absence of that burden made her more eager to give him pleasure, lips traveling past the point she thought possible, not worrying whether or not too much saliva was visible or if it was weird to be moaning while giving someone oral. As if the pleasure was hers.

  Wasn’t it, though? With him?

  Whoa.

  Easy, girl.

  “Call me babe,” she whispered, gently tracing her teeth from root to tip and whirling her tongue around his swollen head. “But only if you want to finish.”

  “Babe, baby, princess, love of my life, I’ll do and say anything you want. Just don’t stop. Don’t stop for me. I’m so close.”

  Okay, he did not mean the whole love of my life part, obviously. He was just lost in the moment. So why did it make her nearly swallow him whole, her pulse tapping wildly in her temples? Her lips stretched around his ample length and when the tip of him brushed the back of her throat, his knees jerked up, the hand that had been cupping her cheek sinking in her hair now, ruining her updo in a split second.

  “Fuck,” he ground out through his teeth. “Natalie. Fuck!”

  Her fist moved up and down in rapid strokes, sensing the beginning of his peak. Was she still moaning?

  Get a grip on yourself. He didn’t taste that good.

  Liar. His taste was singularly incredible.

  The scent of that grapefruit soap clung to his pubic hair and wires must be getting crossed in her brain, because smelling the fruit while taking him in her mouth made him almost taste like it, and somehow she knew she’d never pass up grapefruit again at the supermarket.

  “If you don’t want to swallow,” he panted, throat muscles strained, “now would be a good time to stop, but please don’t stop. Please. Babe. But if you have to, please let me roll you over and come on your tits. I’m asking as an upstanding citizen and service member.”

  There was simply no way she could stop now.

  Not when he made her smile during a blow job.

  That had to deserve some kind of award—and she was in the position to give him one.

  Continuing to rapidly fist him up and down, her mouth followed her hand a little lower each time and she heard his breathing stutter, the groan building in his chest. He alternated between squeezing his eyes shut and watching her mouth bring him deep, skate back to the tip, then go deep again. And finally, the veins on his abdomen turned blunt and . . . he . . . roared. Her name.

  His spend hit the back of her throat so fast and in such abundance, she had to struggle through swallowing it quickly enough, her hand still busy. Still working his slick shaft. His grip was twisted in her hair, but she could feel him resisting the urge to push her mouth down and hold her in place. And considering the animal state he was in, she found that oddly touching. Was she losing her actual mind?

  August deflated, his arms falling to his sides.

  His sex remained at half-mast, sticky and smooth. Somehow still appealing.

  “I can’t believe what you just did for me,” he said between heavy breaths, reaching down to haul her up against his chest. “Natalie, the way you . . .” He shook his head, plowed his left hand through his hair, looking totally and utterly dazed. “Damn, woman.”

  She preened, testing a palm on his chest, her head on his shoulder.

  Just temporarily. Until they caught their breath.

  “Look, I’ve got about three point eight seconds before I’m unconscious, thanks to you. So I’m going to use it to tell you to stay. Sleep right here. On me.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead hard, his lips remaining there for a few seconds. “It’s the safest place you’ll ever be.”

  She ignored the flutter trapped in her throat. “Maybe it’s tradition.”

  “Tradition,” he agreed.

  They passed out cold less than ten seconds later.

  Chapter Sixteen

  August rolled out of bed with a smile on his face.

  It took every ounce of strength in his body to ignore the impulse to whistle while pulling on his drawers. Damn. Now that was how two people kicked off a marriage. An oral sex competition where there were no losers.

  The sun hadn’t yet risen in the sky, but he was an early bird out of practice. He’d throw some eggs down his gullet, catch a workout behind the barn, and get started on production. But first he stopped at the foot of the bed and admired the view. Watching people sleep was creepy as hell. No one would blame him for stopping to check out his own wife’s ass, though, right? It was in plain view. No panties or anything.

  “What am I? A monk?” he muttered under his breath, turning at the door for one final, prolonged peek before closing it behind him and heading into the kitchen. As quietly as possible, he poured himself a glass of orange juice and scrambled up five eggs, eating them in as many bites. He paused in the act of chewing, his lips twitching when a snore reached him from the bedroom. He didn’t remember any snoring from last night. Then again, he’d been passed out cold after the best blow job of his entire life.

  Natalie snored. Good. They’d drown each other out.

  He’d once been told by his teammates that he sounded like a grizzly with a cold.

  With a smile on his face, August set his egg bowl in the sink and rinsed out the empty glass that had held his orange juice. He high-fived himself and slipped into the front yard, locking the door and testing it twice, now that he had a woman to protect. Stretching an arm across his chest to loosen up the muscle, he strode toward his makeshift workout area, reaching into the barn to flip on the rear light.

  Then he got to work on the pullup bar.

  Day one as a married man.

  Their sexual chemistry was fire. More than life itself, he wanted to go crawl back into that bed with Natalie and kiss her awake. Get between those legs and work himself into a sweat giving her orgasms. Now that was the exercise he really wanted. But something wouldn’t let him take it all the way with Natalie yet. Not until they got on the same page. He wasn’t sure how he would feel if they had sex and she still carried on like their marriage was a sham.

  Wrong. He knew exactly how he would feel.

  Devastated.

  No further proof necessary that he was falling deeper and deeper in love with his wife. That damn bow-wielding cherub had lodged a double arrow in the dead center of his chest. Either it was going to pierce his heart and kill him or give him a new reason to live.

  You’re already living for her and you know it.

  August dropped down from the pullup bar with a gulp and trod across the flattened grass to his squat rack, which he’d bought off the local gym when they upgraded their equipment. He ducked his head underneath and braced the heavy bar across his shoulders, stepping back and kicking off a round of squats.

  He and Natalie couldn’t be that far from reaching common ground, could they?

  She’d slept with her back plastered to his chest, thigh to thigh. They might have a lot of shit to work out between them before the marriage was solid—or “real” or whatever—but she was comfortable with him, right? At the very least, she trusted him in her sleep.

  Man. He really wanted full trust from her when she was awake, too.

  Wanted it with a fierce pain in his stomach.

  What was holding her back?

  His mission was to figure that out and eliminate whatever it was.

  August had just returned the squat bar to the rack when his phone rang. Frowning over who would call him this early, he slipped his phone out of his back pocket, his shoulders tensing slightly at his CO’s name on the screen.

  “Sir,” he answered briskly, his spine straightening out of habit. “Good morning, sir.”

  “Cates. I’m sorry to call the morning after your wedding. I’m sure you’re busy.”

  If only. August mentally sighed, flicking a look at his bedroom window. Who would know if he just crept over to the window and took one more quick look at that butt?

  “It’s no problem, sir.”

  “I’m calling because the transfer of funds is coming in today. Two hundred thousand.” He paused to clear his throat. “I’ve made the investment in Sam’s name.”

  A cord pulled in August’s sternum. “That’s . . .” Shit. It hurt to breathe. “You knew him a lot longer than me, of course, but I think . . . I know this would mean a lot to him, sir.”

  “I might have known him longer, but unfortunately, I don’t think I knew him better. This dream of a vineyard was something I never understood. Or tried to understand, I suppose.” The stilted nature of the CO’s words made it clear that the admission was difficult. Hell, having a personal discussion at all wasn’t really the man’s style, let alone one involving an emotional topic like his son. “Maybe this is my way of remedying that. After the fact.”

  August tilted his head back and breathed deeply. “I’m going to do my best with the money, sir. I’m not great at this. Not like Sam would have been. But I’m going to try and do you both proud.”

  “Don’t try, Cates. Just do it.”

  Determination hardened his muscles. “Yes, sir.”

  The CO hung up. For long moments, August remained in place with the phone still pressed to his ear. Don’t try, Cates. Just do it.

  Yes, that was exactly what he would do. Stop fucking around and create a lasting legacy in Sam’s name. Sam’s honor. Didn’t his friend deserve that? This was up to him. There was no one else who could make this dream happen. No one else who would dedicate the time. This dream was on his shoulders and he needed to focus harder. Make it a reality.

  The front door of the house opened and there was Natalie, framed in the doorway. Hair tangled all around her head, his sheet wrapped around her body like a toga. She squinted at him across the misty yard. “I’m having the weirdest dream.” She yawned. “I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and you were working out.”

  “This isn’t a dream.” August flexed his biceps. “You’re really married to this.”

  “No.” She rubbed at her eyes and affection stuck in his belly like a spear. “It’s still dark out.”

  “It’s five o’clock in the morning, give or take a few minutes.” He sauntered toward her across the lawn, guilt kicking around in his stomach over the phone call he’d just taken. “This is when I get up.”

  “Oh.” Another yawn, bigger this time. “In that case, I want a divorce.”

  “Sorry, I won’t sign.”

  Her smile was sweet and sleepy. “Arsenic poisoning it is.”

  “You’d have to know how to cook something in order to poison me, princess.”

  That one might have zinged a little too sharply, based on her flushed cheeks. He was on the verge of apologizing when she said, “I can’t believe I slept with you.”

  “We haven’t slept together yet. When we do, you’ll know it.”

  Why. Why couldn’t he stop antagonizing her? His brain was trying to reach down and clap its hands over his dumbass mouth, but obviously its arms weren’t long enough and it couldn’t reach. “Then I guess I’ll never know it,” she said, shrugging. A beat passed and she looked down at the phone, still in his right hand. “Did I hear you talking to someone?”

  “No.”

  Fuck.

  His stomach sent a wave of acid up toward his mouth.

  His mind gave him a clear road map toward fixing the lie immediately. All it would require is telling her about the investment from his CO.

  Easy.

  Sure.

  He’d just tell Natalie he’d gone through with the marriage because of his feelings for her. That he loved her and was powerless to do anything but help her succeed. Not because of her family’s influence with the local loan officer. She’d be totally fine with that and wouldn’t kick his nut sack at all.

  A pause lingered between them, a line popping up between her brows. She took a final look at the phone—he’d lied and she knew it.

  Fix it before you cross the line of no return.

  Having her suspicious of him was worse than weathering a little anger, right?

  “Natalie, I have to tell—”

  “I’m going to New York,” she blurted. “In five days.”