“Sorry about that, Mr. and Mrs. McCormick,” the pilot says over the speakers. “Small pocket of difficulty there.”

Declan is on his side, pinning me against the toilet, while my arm does an imitation of a boiled egg with a Paas kit the day before Easter.

“Look at you,” he says, free hand stroking my cheek. He doesn’t move. I’m trapped. Work Declan dissipates, his eyes turning soft and intense, his breathing quickening.

“You find this romantic?” I point at my toilet arm. “I’m turning into Smurfette, one appendage at a time.”

“I always thought Smurfette was kind of cute. And we’re recreating the first time we met, Toilet Girl.”

“Give me your cell phone and I’ll make it authentic.” Let’s just ignore the creepy cartoon fetish thing, shall we? I splash my hand in the bowl, making it flop like a fish. “You do not get to make fun of Edward Cullen while finding this sexy.”

He laughs, more of Fun Declan replacing Borg Declan. Hope springs eternal in my chest.

Or maybe that’s blue chemical water burning my ribs.

“Can we get in the shower? I’d prefer not to look like someone who plays drums at the Charles Playhouse.”

“If this whole co-owning a coffee empire doesn’t work out, you can always work for Blue Man Group,” he jokes, standing slowly, reaching out a hand to help me up.

I quickly extract my toilet hand and slap it in his.

He cringes, but doesn’t let go.

True love, ladies and gentleman. That’s true love, right there.

Wriggling out of the rest of my clothes, I beat him to the shower, the hot spray delightful, pale blue water swirling down the tiny drain. The shower is a three-quarters circle built into the wall, down a narrow hallway off the bedroom. We’re surrounded by glass and chrome, the setting decadent and nothing like flying economy on a commercial jet airplane.

Scratch that.

There’s one thing in common.

As Declan climbs into the narrow space, I get poked in the back.

Except this isn’t a child’s sharp-toed shoe kicking me.

“Mmmmm,” he says, nuzzling my neck. “You need to be soaped up.”

“I need more than that.”

“Let’s start here.” He kisses my wet shoulder, his hand traveling down my ribs to my hip, over the bone and between my legs, where he finds a slickness that’s been waiting for him since long before we got into the shower.

When he touches me, I become more than myself. This is what I’ve craved for days—weeks, even—the craziness of our wedding fading as his palms glide along my torso, his fingers tracing my navel, his lips grazing my neck. One hand lifts my hair as he kisses me until I shiver, the other parting my legs slightly with a commanding touch that makes me groan.

“Yes,” I gasp, leaning into his touch. “Oh, yes.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, water dripping from his wet hair onto my ear, the trickle of shower spray intensifying sensation. His body behind me is a wall, a blanket, a second skin he shares with me, his thighs pressing into the curve of my ass, the hot steam entering my lungs, pushing my shoulders down, making me twist and melt.

“Sorry for what?” I curl my abs inward, pressing my backside up, and his erection nudges into the cleft of my ass, the feeling delicious.

“For forgetting how good this is, Shannon. Sometimes I go too deep into Work Mind and disconnect.”

Flexing up, I seek friction, his hand staying with me, the wide pad of his thumb on my sweet spot, my body seeking rhythm. After trying so hard to vie for attention and having it all at once, this feels surreal.

This feels right.

Somehow, it manages to be both.

Which is exactly why I can spend a lifetime loving this man. So many layers. So many contradictions. So many assumptions drawn that never come to be true. Mysteries abound inside each of us, and we’ve committed to a lifetime of solving them.

I hope it’s enough.

And if not?

We’ll have to meet in the next lifetime to pick up where this one left off.

My breasts tingle as heat pours up from between my legs, his hand firm and focused, his breathing turning to an excited rasp that won’t stop, the vibration of his low, husky sound turning me primal. I widen my legs and reach back for him, but he shifts slightly, out of reach.

“No. You first,” he demands. “I made you wait.”

“I—” Words begin to fail me. I’m reduced to the sound of my own breath, the rush of my body toward his, the effort to hold back shed second by second, my spirit greedy for his attention. “I love your form of penance.”

He shuts me up with an earlobe bite that makes me clench as he slips one, then two, fingers inside just as I fall to pieces in his arms, bucking and jerking, grasping the shower bar for an anchor, his touch unabated as he makes me come over and over, his promise fulfilled.

I came first.

But I won’t come last.

Spinning to face him, I kiss him, our mouths meeting without sound, the caress of his tongue between my lips a sweeping sensation that makes me wrap my arms around him. We’re supposed to be enraptured with each other, our honeymoon a time for memorizing fine details, the burrowing spiral into the marrow of each other’s bones a prerequisite for endurance.

When you find love like this, the trick isn’t in how easy it can be in the now.

It’s in knowing how hard it’s going to be someday.

And that the now makes that someday worth it.

My skin rises to his nearness as we walk, wet and loose, falling onto the made bed, not caring about our soaked hair dampening the sheets, the rivulets of water sucking into the cotton like our bodies soaking in each other’s essence. He’s long and hard against me, biceps bulging as he holds himself over me, face dark with desire, eyes flinty and determined, the look disarming but for the need behind it.

He is a fortress, his thighs rippling with lines of muscle I don’t have, one knee pressing between my knees, his mouth dipping to my breast.

I thread my fingers in his wet hair then run my slippery palms down his shoulders and back, stopping at the narrowing of his waist, his head popping up to find mine, mouths and tongues tangling like seaweed in the tide. He is in me so fast, my gasp unnecessary, the sigh that follows full of gratitude and joy.

This is who we are now, coupled in body and spirit.

Trembling, I take him in deeper, hips widening, legs wrapping around him with a welcoming embrace that invites him to find eternity with me in thrust and motion, in moan and promise.