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I WAKE UP AND AM GREETED by the faint scent of jasmine, lavender, and vanilla.
Y/n and I are entangled in a mess of limbs—she's draped across my chest, her legs intertwined with mine, her head nestled in the crook of my neck.
God, I'll never tire of waking up like this.
I can't help drifting back to the night it all began.
Y/n squeals as I lift her into my arms and carry her down the hall. "Satoru, what are you doing?"
"Haven't you heard? It's tradition to carry the bride over the threshold."
My pulse races when she winds her arms around my neck, resting her head against my shoulder. I've waited so long to have her in my arms, and it's hard to believe this is real.
Once we're inside my hotel room, I shut the door behind us and bypass the living room, taking her straight to the bedroom.
When I set Y/n on the ground, she looks up at me with wide eyes. Her pouty lips part slightly, begging to be kissed. I trace her jawline with my thumb, like I did at the chapel, savoring the feel of her surrendering to my touch.
Y/n is my wife.
It's our wedding night.
The desire to claim her pulses through my veins as she licks her lips and watches me with her chocolate-brown eyes. It's on the tip of my tongue to promise her a night full of bliss, where we'll fuck until morning, but my conscience holds me back.
Y/n isn't a one-night-stand conquest. She's the one I've wanted since high school. Now that she's mine, I can't risk losing her. No matter how much I want to spend the night memorizing her body like it's a timeless work of art.
I can't believe she's really my wife.
Y/n chews on her lower lip. "Satoru?"
"What is it?"
"I'm hungry," she says, giving me a sheepish grin when her stomach growls loudly in agreement.
We've been married for less than an hour and I'm already failing as her husband. We haven't eaten since I found her at the bar. She must be starving.
I pull her in for a hug, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. "I'll order room service."
"Thank you," she says.
By the time our food arrives, Y/n has discarded her wedding dress on the floor, and made herself comfortable on the king-sized bed, watching a The Big Bang Theory rerun.
She's wearing nothing but her bra and panties. The swells of her breasts peek out of her white lace bra, tempting me. It takes every ounce of restraint not to draw her into my arms. Luckily, I'm quickly distracted by her face lighting up when I push the room service cart through the door.
