Spencer kissed every inch of her, murmuring how beautiful she was, how she drove him mad with desire.
When they finally collapsed in a tangle of limbs, their bodies slick with sweat, the storm outside seemed to calm as if in deference to their union.
Beatrice lay sprawled on his chest, her hair a messy halo around her flushed face. Spencer's arm was draped protectively around her, his fingers lazily stroking her back.
"I sent the kids to the Queens, and now I feel a little guilty," she admitted, though her tone betrayed no real regret.
Spencer laughed, the deep, rich sound reverberating in his chest. "Don't. They'll have a great time, and we needed this." He kissed the top of her head. "You deserve to be spoiled, Bea. You give so much to everyone else—let me give this to you."
She tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes soft. "You always know how to say the right thing, don't you?"