“Anastasia Hawkins.” Damn did he love saying it. He went behind her, preparing to untie the blindfold. “That was the name you were meant to have.”
“And when your parents find out about us?” She reached out, searching for him.
“They’ll force us to have a big party to celebrate.” And they were planning on telling them tomorrow at his father’s birthday party. A “Happy Birthday, We’re Married” surprise. He’d just have to hide his mom’s gun, so she didn’t shoot him in the ass for eloping. “Okay, you ready for the surprise?”
“Will my surprise be you in jeans and chaps and nothing else? I’m still waiting on that fantasy to come true.” Desire floated through her tone. A sexy drawl as she teased out the words to purposefully turn him on.
And yeah, sex would be happening today. But first . . .
He untied the blindfold and tossed it over his shoulder before stepping around her.
They were standing inside an old barn filled with rusty equipment equally as old. He’d strung Christmas lights overhead and placed a soft, red cashmere blanket on the ground on top of some hay for padding. A picnic basket and a woman’s cowgirl hat were on top of the blanket.
“This is adorable and romantic. And,” she said while turning into his arms, “we are having sex, then?” She lifted one arm and tipped up his Stetson. “That cowgirl hat mine? Will that be all I wear today?” She dragged her tongue along her lower lip. “Any leather chaps in here?” A teasing smile met her eyes.
“Oh, there will be plenty of romancing you soon enough.” He closed one eye. “And maybe I will even fulfill that jeans and chaps fantasy of yours.”
“But first?” She stepped back, now sensing they were in that barn for a lot more than a good time.
“I was, um.” He sucked in a sharp, nervous breath.
They’d talked about their plans for weeks. Hell, the last two-plus months. But there was one question he’d yet to officially ask her, and he wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, but he was.
“This is your wedding gift.”
“The picnic and sex?” Oh, she knew. The woman was too smart not to know what he was getting at, but she looooved to give him a hard time.
He closed the space between them and drew the back of his hand down her cheek. “Two acres of land. A house where this barn is sitting.” He swallowed. “A wraparound porch.”
She draped her arms over his shoulders. “Mmmm. Tell me more.”
“Right here where we’re standing could be your office. You know, while you write that book you’ve been plotting.” She’d decided she wanted to share the pages of her story while also helping others cope and move on with their lives in the face of tragedy or betrayal. “I know you’ll be teaching a few courses at Quantico a couple times a year in between your writing, but—”
“But nothing.” She brought her mouth to his. “I’d love to make a home here if that’s what you’re trying to ask.”
He lowered his forehead to hers and wrapped his arms around her waist, then released a shaky, emotional breath. “You would?” he whispered against her ear.
“More than anything.” She leaned back and captured his eyes with her intense focus, one that had his world spinning in just the right direction.
“My family can be a lot, and I’ll be starting to spin back up in two weeks, but I think it’d be nice if we set down some roots. Build a home together.”
“Will your mom help me design it?” She teased his lower lip between her teeth before inching her face back, eyes on him again.
“If that’s what you want.”
“I do,” she murmured. “And I want roots. And a family. And all the things.” Her smile stretched. “I want you.”
“And you want me in jeans and chaps?” he asked as she swooped his hat off his head and set it on her own, her golden-red hair down over her shoulders. She looked relaxed and sexy in ripped-up jeans and a white ribbed tank top.
“Oh,” she said with a nod, “I really, really do.”
He snatched his hat from her and stepped back. “You got your own hat now, woman,” he said with a grin. “But I think I just might have some brown leather chaps here somewhere. I mean, I gotta make my wife happy.”
She peeled her tank top over her head, revealing her sheer, white lace bra. Then unbuttoned the top of her jeans.
Ana was officially a relaxed woman. No more panic-anything had been needed in months.
Just lots and lots of making love. Enjoying life.
He turned to find where he hid the chaps for her viewing pleasure, but then halted at the sound of his ringing phone. “It’s Chris,” he grumbled.
“You think they’re pulling you in early? You better take it if they need you.”
He slowly faced her, but there wasn’t disappointment in her eyes. Just love.
“I knew the man I was marrying, and I happen to love that man.” She pointed to his phone in his palm. “My fantasy can wait.” But she went ahead and removed her boots before unzipping her jeans.
Wait? Yeah, right. “It’s me,” he nearly croaked upon answering. “What’s up?” He swallowed when Ana shimmied her jeans down her hips before they fell to her ankles, and she kicked them off.
Oh, Anastasia the erotic dancer was coming out to play. Hot damn. He bit down on his back teeth when his wife circled her hands around one of the wood pillars and arched her back, offering him a show.
“Say that again.” A.J. missed whatever Chris had said when he cocked his head to the side and watched while Ana bent over and set a hand to the ground, then shook her ass in a seductive but adorably comical fashion. And he loved every second of it.
“A canine,” Chris announced, probably for the second or third time. “I officially rescued one for the team, but I can’t decide on a name,” he rambled, and A.J. barely focused on what Echo Three had said when his wife lost her bra and panties. “You think Rory can train him since you said she’s starting her own business in New Orleans?”
“A canine,” A.J. repeated. “Great. Rory, yeah,” he added while Ana placed her new cowgirl hat on her head and lifted one shoulder, then seductively set her hands over her breasts and squeezed. “So, I’m not spinning up right now?” he confirmed, his throat and chest tight as desire took over him.
“No, I—”
“Then I’ll call you back.” A.J. tossed his phone and lunged for his wife, pulling the little vixen tight in his arms. “You’re naughty.”
“Oh,” she said softly, “just how you like me in bed.”
His dick grew so damn hard he’d barely be able to contain it in his pants.
“Now the chaps,” she urged, then stepped away and flicked a commanding finger.
“As you wish, sugar.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and turned to find the chaps.
He’d do anything and everything to fulfill her every wish.
And he knew when the time was right, she’d give him a few wishes of his own—babies.
He went into one of the old stalls and retrieved the chaps where he’d hidden them. After tossing his shirt, he unbuttoned the top of his jeans, secured the leather chaps in place, then fixed his hat before facing her.