"Never mind that now. Go to bed, Isabelle, before I throw you over my shoulder and take you back there myself." "I mean, it is our wedding night," she suggests in a light, teasing tone. Despite her levity, the words slam me with a jolt of heat, unexpected and searing. My body tenses against the surge of arousal and surprise. Isabelle freezes, her shoulders stiffening as if she can’t believe she let that slip out. Before I can react, she barrels on. "I mean, I’d expect nothing but rose petals and candlelight lovemaking after that proposal today. The hot air balloon ride? The acoustic guitar
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