Chapter 9 #2
He kept stealing glances at her as he drove towards the apartment.
What she had said to his father had sucker-punched the man and had him gaping at her.
Beneath the soft serenity, there lay more than a hint of steel.
He was so proud of her, he could feel the pride bursting inside his chest. Right now, his new bride was curled up on her side, hands cradling her cheek, and was fast asleep.
His heart melted as he stole another glance at her. The ceremony had lasted a little over thirty minutes. The reception with all of its different segments had lasted more than three hours. Saying goodbye to their guests had taken another hour, which had left him chafing with impatience.
Now he was on his way to paradise. He was finally going to put to rest the torment of being near her and not going all the way. She was going to be his in every sense of the word. The thought of it quickened his blood.
He came to a stop in the wide driveway. Unhooking his belt, he turned fully to stare at her. She was curled up, with her feet tucked beneath her, and looked as innocent as a child. His heart took a slow dive as he wondered when he would be able to put his baby inside her.
"Wake up, sleeping beauty." His fingers glided over her cheek. When she still did not stir, he grinned and decided to do the next best thing. Shoving the door open, he rounded the hood and opened her door. Quietly unhooking her belt, he eased his arms around her and lifted her against his chest.
Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared at him in confusion.
"I sincerely hope you're not trying to get out of this part of the day."
"I was asleep."
"More like you were in a coma," he averred with a grin.
She stretched languidly and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I like this part," she murmured huskily, still half asleep.
"I'm sure you do." His long legs made short work of the journey from the parking lot to the massive oak doors.
Keying in his code, he nudged the doors with his hips and made sure to lock up.
He had plans that were going to take up most of the night and the morning.
He had given the housekeeper two weeks off.
Their honeymoon would officially start the day after tomorrow.
"We're home, sweetheart," he said quietly as he stepped over the threshold.
"It feels weird."
"Good or bad?" He turned towards the stairs, his arms holding her possessively.
"Good. This is now my home."
"Yes." He bounded up the stairs easily and turned towards the master bedroom suite. He had encouraged her to make changes to the completely masculine gold and blue décor, but she was not ready to change anything yet.
Placing her on the massive king-sized bed, he knelt to take off her shoes and started rubbing her feet. "You danced up a storm."
"I enjoyed myself immensely. Except--" When her voice petered off, he looked up, his expression darkening.
"The part where my own father put hands on you. I wanted to smash his face in for touching you like that."
Placing two fingers vertically over his lips, she shook her head. "It's our wedding night and I want nothing to spoil it."
"You're right." Privately, he vowed that he was going to have it out with the old man, once and for all.
"I had champagne and some of the cake delivered along with the mountain of gifts." His eyes glimmered in amusement. "I hope you don't expect me to be part of the unwrapping."
"Since they have both our names, it means you get roped in whether you like it or not."
"I was afraid so." He reached up her thighs to slide the silk of her stockings off her legs, fingers lingering. "I know I already removed your garters, but I did not get to do this."
"Do what?"
He showed her instead, fingers sliding over her skin. Lifting her left foot, he propped it on his shoulder and turned his head to kiss her instep. She watched with bated breath as his lips trailed over the silkiness of her calf.
"We should have some champagne," she breathed.
"Delaying the inevitable, Mrs. Collier?"
It thrilled her to be addressed that way.
"Only just a little bit." She was nervous for some unknown reason.
Forcing himself to be patient, he reminded himself that after all, he was here at the finish line.
She was his wife, the woman he had been waiting for what seemed like forever.
She was here in his bedroom, their bedroom. He could afford to wait a few minutes.
Rising, he left the room to go and get the champagne and cake. It gave her a chance to change out of the dress and into something more comfortable.
Taking a deep breath, she hopped off the bed and pulled the zipper down, thankful that the rows of tiny pearl buttons were just for show.
She and Monique had scoured the lingerie department looking for the right one and had found something: a sinuous, supple silk that was as light as water. The color was a shade between green and blue, the style deceptively simple, and it was so transparent, nothing was hidden.
Lifting her hands, she got rid of the pins and shook her hair free. It rained down her back and framed her face.
He had a tray in his hands and was forced to walk backwards so he could push the doors open. "I brought more than two slices," he began. "I noticed how much you enjoyed--" He turned around then and the rest of the words were lost somewhere in his throat.
He stood rooted to the spot, the saliva drying up as he stared at her. When he had witnessed her walking towards him this afternoon, he had thought she could not be real, that the vision coming towards him was surely an apparition, a figment of his fevered imagination.
The woman in front of him now was startlingly real, seductive and sexy, provocative and so alluring that he wondered how he did not die right here on the spot.
The material outlined every lush curve of her slender body.
Her hair was flowing down her back, and an unconsciously provocative smile was on her lips.
He wasn't going to last; the thought filtered through his mind. He had planned for a seduction that would take hours, but seeing her like this, he knew instinctively that he was not going to survive.
When it became clear that he wasn't capable of moving, she did.
"I thought I would get comfortable." She took the tray from his nerveless fingers and set it aside. "I also thought I would take the initiative." He had removed his suit jacket and tie and had unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. She handled the rest.
"I'm not good at this game. But you're my husband and I think it's time I learned. I cannot have you doing all the work."
"Catherine--" his voice was decidedly strained.
"Yes?" She undid the last button and went on her toes to push the shirt off his broad shoulders.
"You're slowly killing me," he warned.
"We don't want that." Taking his hand, she led him to the bed and pushed him down.
"I simply want to seduce my husband."
"That was supposed to be my job," he said gruffly, causing her to lift her brows as she bent to take off his shoes and socks.
"Because you're the man?" She knelt between his thighs and undid his belt and then his zipper.
"Yes," he rasped. "And because I've been waiting for this for a lifetime."
"So have I. Stand." He obeyed automatically, just standing there while she pulled his pants down.
And then his undershirt. He heard her breath catch as she stared at the wide expanse of golden skin that was his chest. When she spread her long, elegant fingers over it, near to his nipples, it was he who caught his breath, muscles flinching.
"Sit," she whispered huskily, making sure he obeyed by pushing him back down. "No," she shook her head when he started to reach for her. "Do you know what I spent last night doing?" she asked throatily, fingers edging closer to his small nipples.
"No. What?" he rasped.
"Visualizing this -- you, being here with you as your wife.
Legally, emotionally, physically, I'm yours.
I keep thinking about how you looked with your shirt off.
" She eased in a careful breath. "How golden your skin is, the touch of your mouth on mine.
" When she bent and brushed her lips on his chest, his knees weakened even more.
He had never been seduced before, not by a simple touch or sweet words.
Before now, sex had been a means to an end, a way to slake his thirst in that very moment.
Now it was something else. She was touching his very soul.
"I have to touch you." His voice was thin and strained.
"No," she said, pushing him back on the pillows. "Let me do this, please."
How could he deny her anything? he thought hazily. How was he going to stand this new kind of torture she was introducing without breaking?
When she lifted his hands and wrapped his fingers around the carved headboard, his eyes flared.
"Catherine--"
"Shh."
His body heaved in shock when she straddled him.
"I'm new to this."
"Sweetheart--" his fingers were trembling and tense.
"I want you to tell me if I'm doing it right.
" She started at his forehead, her lips brushing gently over his skin before trailing downwards.
When she reached his lips, tongue teasing the bottom, he felt desire bursting through him like liquid flames.
She was using his methods against him, he thought in feverish surprise.
"Baby--" he gasped when she plunged her tongue into his mouth, kissing him with an abandon that awakened so many emotions he was being swamped.
Before he could deepen the kiss, she was using her tongue on his throat and moving further down.
His fingers clenched as wave after wave of sensations swept through him like a storm.
He lost his mind when she started to nibble on the tautness of his flat stomach. With a muffled groan, he gripped her around the waist and pushed her back on the pillows, face hard and taut with passion.