Pressing the call button, Will bent to place a lingering kiss against my cheek. “Your dad brought you here for afternoon tea when you were eight, and your mother made you wear a terrible dress and tights that kept—if I have my Hanna-isms correct—creeping into your fancy parts? I might be paraphrasing, of course.”

I laughed at the memory. “I hated that dress. It was Liv’s, and the zipper was all jagged and would snag in my hair.” He gave me a slow nod to tell me he remembered all of this . . . and my insides warmed. “There were rose petals on the tablecloths.”

“Pink,” he added, rubbing slow circles on my back with his palm.

I nodded, eyes locked on his before dropping to his gorgeous mouth. I wanted to kiss that mouth, taste it, stretch out across a giant bed while it tasted me. We’d made love just last night and yet it still felt like it’d been too long.

“I feel like I barely got to talk to you today,” I whispered. “How weird is that? It was our wedding, we were next to each other all night, and yet it feels like we spent most of the day talking to other people.”

“I felt the same way,” he said, and the low rumble of his voice vibrated down my spine. “Between the guests and the pictures, your family, my family, and the guys all stealing you for dances . . . I just stared at you all night.”

I pulled him down for another kiss and felt him hum against my mouth. “Would you be interested in some alone time now?” I asked. “I’d like to show you how much I like your surprise.”

“I’m a little torn between wanting to stare at you in this dress some more, and wanting to tear it off you.” The elevator doors opened and we stepped inside, shifting to the back to make room for a few others, who smiled at us and murmured their congratulations.

Every time I remembered that Will was my husband now, tiny bombs went off inside my chest.

I pressed my face to his shoulder, breathing him in as the elevator began to climb. He smelled amazing; the scent of orchids that had filled the entire reception clung to him. I felt light-headed for a moment. Gone were any nerves and exhilaration, and sheer fucking want raced through my veins.

I did a quick check to make sure nobody was paying attention, and then pushed up onto my toes so I could whisper into his ear.

“I know we head home early tomorrow,” I said, already dreading the alarm that would go off at eight in the morning to get us to the airport on time. “So we need to make the best use of our time. Bed, floor, couch . . . I want you to take me everywhere.” I paused, adding even more quietly, “I want to feel you everywhere.”

Will straightened with a quick intake of air and looked around us. “Christ, Hanna.”

“What? I’m whispering.”

Will bit back a laugh. “Have you ever actually heard yourself whisper? It’s like a stage whisper, done only for comedic effect and meant to be heard by the people all the way in the back.”

I shook my head. “No way.” Pointing to my chest, I added, “Super subtle.”

Will’s continued laughter was cut short as the doors opened on the second floor, and everyone shifted to let an older couple step out. I hated to admit it, but if the looks everyone gave us over their shoulders were any indication, Will was right . . . they’d heard everything.

As we started moving again, Will leaned in and pressed his mouth to my ear. “But honestly, I like the sound of all of this.”

“I have a list and want to make sure we get to everything.”

“You have a list.”

I looked at him, blinking. “You don’t?”

“Hanna,” he said, laughing. “You are amazing.”

A chime signaled we’d reached our floor and the doors opened. I’d barely taken a step forward when he reached for me, swooping me up in his arms and laughing as my surprised screech rang up and down the empty hall.

“You’re carrying me?”

“I’m carrying you.”

I looped my arms around his neck. “I thought you weren’t a fan of traditions.”

I could hear his footsteps against the plush carpet, but couldn’t seem to drag my eyes away from his face. I was fascinated by his mouth and his lashes and the way my fingers slipped so easily through the back of his hair.

“Some traditions must be based on research,” he said, smiling down at me. “Everyone who has ever done this before me surely discovered how heroic it feels.”

I gazed up at him. “I’m not tiny, and there are about forty pounds of pearls on this dress. Look at you: you’re not even winded. I am impressed.”

Shrugging with me in his arms, he added more quietly, “Also, your tits look amazing all squeezed together like that. It’s win-win.”

I barked out a surprised laugh. “The truth comes out.”

Will stopped in front of a room, somehow managing to slip the keycard into the lock and turn the handle, letting the door swing open in front of us.

“Well, Mrs. Sumner-Bergstrom, here we are.” He paused, pressing a soft kiss against my mouth to mark the moment, and then carried me over the threshold.

It hit me all over again: We were married. Will was my husband—my husband.

For the past three months, no matter how busy our lives were—at work, at home, with friends—some wedding-related question would manage to work its way into every conversation. I was glad I’d taken everyone’s advice, reminding myself that it was just a day, and so much of it would go by in a blur. I didn’t remember much about the flowers or place settings at the reception, or even what we ate. But I did remember Will’s face when I saw him for the first time at the end of that aisle, waiting for me. I remembered how happy he looked as he watched me come toward him, how every bit of self-consciousness I felt about my dress or my boobs or being in front of all these people just slipped away when I saw his eyes roam the length of my body. I would have raced down the aisle naked if he’d asked me to. His voice shook when he said his vows, and I’ll never forget the tears in his eyes when he said I do.

“I’m ready to have sex now,” I told him, unwilling to wait another minute.

Will smiled and shook his head, taking the final steps that would lead us into the suite’s master bedroom. “Life will never be boring with you around, Plum.”

I’m sure our room was gorgeous—plush carpet, wide windows, and beautiful furniture, just like the rest of the hotel—but I never saw any of it, unable to pull my lips from the side of his neck while he lowered me to the bed, my dress crinkling between us.