95. Mrs. Foster

They stared at each other for a moment. “You don’t?” she asked quietly. “No,” River said, shrugging off his jacket and laying it on the couch near the bed. “So, are we going to…um…” she stammered. She groaned inwardly. Why did she feel so tongue-tied in front of him? He was her husband now, for Christ’s sake! “What are you trying to ask, Riley? Just spit it out,” River asked, loosening his tie. “It’s our wedding night,” she said softly, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “Yes, it is,” he said as he threw the tie at the chair. “So I wanted to know if you are planning to…if we are going to…um…” “Make love?” he asked. The corner of his mouth twitched up. Riley’s cheeks flushed as River’s words hung in the air. She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach, the tension between them growing. “Yes,” she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper. “That.” “Hmm…what do you think we should do, Riley?” he asked, his blue eyes twinkling. His question caught her off guard, making he