Rachel is what you'd call a controllist.

Her ears are ringing, the blood rush starting to die down. She swallows around a gasp for air, throat raw and she knows they'll be getting dirty looks from the neighbors later if the slight pain in her throat is any indication of her volume. Not that she cares much. She's on Broadway and she's getting married. She deserves to be as loud as she wants, at least this once. Noah tries to at least fall to the side so as not to crush her, but she's not quite ready to let him go yet. Turning a little, she wraps her arms around his torso and loops their legs together to keep him from pulling too far away. His weight on her will be uncomfortable later. Maybe. But as of right now? She doesn't want it to go anywhere. Turning her head, Rachel brushes her lips lazily over whatever skin she can reach, dry lips catching against his sweaty skin. "I love you." She mumbles, kissing his shoulder, then his jaw. She's said it so many times tonight [She says it so many times every day. It's like breathing now.] but she doesn't care. Because it's true. Because it's like all of her dreams have just come true in the span of about a week and most of it? Revolves around him. Around being here, with him. Around loving and being loved and happy. He deserves to know how appreciated he is.