Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes lifted to mine. “Jeremy, I…” she said, trailing off as her eyes darted between mine “What is this?” she asked in a whisper.

“This is ours,” I said simply.

Her brow wrinkled, so I placed my thumb and index finger under her chin to tilt her head.

“We may have lost a moon, baby, but we gained a star. One that was too far out of our reach, no matter how desperately we wanted to grasp it. Now, you can keep its memory close to your heart at all times.”

Her lower lip trembled as tears welled in her eyes. She held her hair up and turned around. Without hesitation, I unclasped the necklace and fastened it around her neck. When she turned back to me, her hands were up to her chest, fingering the chain. Her voice was shaky when she spoke.

“Thank you.” She swallowed, lifting her eyes to meet mine. “I will treasure it for the rest of my life.” She took a step forward then placed her arms around my neck. “Just as I will treasure you, Jeremy Banks, for the rest of my life and for whatever lies beyond.” Her eyes were still glistening when she let out a small laugh. “Twenty years, babe. Who’d have thought?”

That was the easiest question ever.

Without answering, I scooped her up in my arms and led her to the beach blanket, and for the third time in my life, I pledge my undying love to Sierra in the very same spot. And, just as I always had, the moment I slid into her depths, I paused.

Fucking perfect.

It always had been. From the very first time, when I could hardly believe she was giving herself to me, and every single beyond that, it was perfect. It was cliché, I know, but when I was inside her, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that this woman had been made for me.

I’d spend the rest of my life proving myself worthy of her.

Her hips arched, and her whimpers echoed around us. I held my position then covered her body with mine, using my elbows to brace myself as I took her head in my hands. Her eyes fluttered open and she watched me with a hooded, heated gaze.

“Who’d have thought?” she repeated.

“I didn’t just think, baby. I knew. From the very first day.”

And, with that one last answer, I covered her lips with mine, capturing them in a feverish kiss as I made love to my wife on the beach we’d always call home.

Even though Sierra and I were using the reunion to push Jace and Lexi together, we were back in Navarre. It was the place where we’d met twenty freaking years earlier, and it wouldn’t have been right if we focused on them the entire time. Which was why we’d ended up at our beach. Which was why, after making love in our favorite spot, we both knew we’d have to shower to get the sand off. Not that I ever minded the excuse to shower sand off Sierra.

“I wish we never had to leave this place,” Sierra whispered.

Her fingers were lazily running up and down the skin of my back. I rose up, and my cock twitched inside her, apparently not ready to leave his place, either. I couldn’t blame him. Nestled inside Sierra after she’d just explosively come around me was pretty much heaven. And who wants to leave there?

I gazed down at my gorgeous wife. Her eyes were glossy, her smile crooked, her cheeks so beautifully flushed.

Sierra was drunk on the champagne I’d brought. I was drunk on her.

Would I ever not be?

I doubted it. Even after all these years, it was still there. The excitement. The electricity. The heat. Our chemistry hadn’t fizzled after seven years of marriage. If nothing else, the more we experienced together, the more combustible we were.

When people heard how long Sierra and I’d been together, I’d get asked how we’d kept it fresh. New. Exciting. Didn’t I get tired of the same snatch over and over again?

If they could only see Sierra now, laid out and flushed after toe-curling, spine-tingling ecstasy, they’d never ask again.

In case you’re wondering, the answer is no.

I’d never tire of Sierra’s glorious pussy, her incredible body, or her beautiful heart.

I know that it was most likely unusual for most guys my age, but in all of my life, I’d never touched another woman. I had Sierra Banks. Why would I need to?

“Whoa!” I jerked the wheel to the side just as Sierra reached over and grasped my cock. The same champagne lust-filled gaze that had been in her eyes when she’d come about an hour earlier was still there.

After her statement of never wanting to leave, I’d agreed. Begrudgingly, and much to my dick’s displeasure, I’d slid out of her, cleaned her up, then tugged my T-shirt over her head before throwing my shorts on. She’d sat up, put her panties on, and then finished the bottle while we’d gazed out at the ocean and talked about anything and everything. That was Sierra and me. We’d have explosive sex then talk about our days.

That’s the thing a lot of people don’t seem to understand. You can be completely content with your relationship, comfortable as hell, and still ignite in the bedroom. In fact, I’d venture to guess that it’s better that way. Don’t you want to be comfortable with the one you love? It doesn’t mean it’s boring, especially when she leans over and touches your cock when you’re driving. Boring? Fuck no.

“I love your penis,” she stated matter-of-factly.

My face broke out into a prideful grin. “My penis loves you, too, baby,” I informed her.

“It’s such a pretty penis,” she continued. Her fingers slowly stroked me through my shorts, and a delighted smile crossed her face as he grew beneath her.

Like I said, my dick loves her, too.

She licked her lips, causing me to go incredibly hard. Material-straining hard. I had to tear my gaze from her face to focus on the road. My hands gripped the steering wheel even though all I wanted to do was pull off on the side of the road, yank her out of the car, bend her over the hood, and fuck her until the entire city heard her screaming my name.

Thank fuck we were nearing the condo.

“It ain’t no love sanctuary,” I said through clenched teeth.

She laughed a sexy, throaty laugh. Then her hand retreated. It was a blessing and a curse. A blessing because if she’d slipped her hand into my shorts and touched my bare skin, I’d probably have caused a crash. A curse because fuck, I wanted her fingers wrapped around me, stroking up and down until I was coming in her hand.

Then my beautiful wife decided to torture me, leaning across the car and nibbling on my earlobe as she whispered exactly what she wanted to do to me in the shower.

By the time we entered the parking lot, I was signed up and ready to become an exhibitionist. I didn’t care about the college kids who were playing beer pong in the driveway across the street. I didn’t care about the janitor emptying trash cans full of beer bottles and takeout. I only came out of my lustful haze when Sierra whispered Jace’s name.

She tapped my shoulder. “Jace,” she whispered again, her voice breathy, shaky, and a little panicked.

“What the fuck?” I growled.

Now, I wasn’t a jealous man by any means. Sierra was fucking hot. If a guy wanted to check her out, whatever—do it, dude. Take your fill, go home, and jack off later. I was the guy in her bed. The way I saw it, I was the fucking winner. It’s like staring at a Playboy. You get to admire the woman in the photo, beat off to her image, and then go about your day. But do you ever think about the guy who’s actually fucking her? The one who makes her come? The one whose name she cries as he pleasures her?

No, of course you don’t, because that’s just freaking weird. But it’s the truth. Behind every gorgeous woman is a man (or sometimes a woman) who’s fulfilling her needs. I was that guy for Sierra. So, no, I wasn’t jealous. I felt sorry that those fucks wouldn’t ever see her in the throes of ecstasy.