Chapter Thirty-Eight Sunny #2
Ethan and I are bound by the threads of fate, but once we consummate our marriage, we will be choosing each other for all time. When we make love this time, it will be a vow to love and cherish each other forever.
Blowing out a shaky breath, I follow Miok to the bathing chamber and step into the warm bath she prepared.
She washes me with gentle care and guides me back to the honeymoon suite.
I sit where she indicates, while she carefully brushes my hair until it gleams. Then I offer her my pulse points to dot with fragrant oil.
Miok helps me to my feet, then leads me to the armoire. She pauses and clears her throat, and I blink out of my daze. I’ve never seen her discomfited before. “Your friends have left strict instructions to dress you in this . . .”
She reaches inside the armoire and holds up a tiny, off-white thong. The lace triangle in the front is minuscule. A nervous giggle bubbles up my throat, but I take the panties from her and slip them on under my robe. The scrap of satin feels ridiculously soft and surprisingly comfortable.
“I am not sure what this is,” my lady-in-waiting continues, frowning down at the next piece of lingerie, “but the fabric is exquisite.”
“It’s called lace, and I think you’re holding a garter belt,” I hedge. “I don’t know how that works, either, so we’ll have to figure it out together. Let me see the rest.”
The remainder of my wedding-night ensemble consists of a matching white lace bra and sheer, thigh-high stockings in the softest beige, edged with more delicate lace. I sigh in relief when I find a relatively simple, off-white nightgown, cut low in a deep V with delicate spaghetti straps.
Miok dresses me efficiently, despite her unfamiliarity with the mortal undergarments. It doesn’t occur to me to look at the label until she holds the nightgown out to me.
“La Perla?” I gasp. Even I know the luxury lingerie brand. I must be wearing thousands of dollars in satin and lace right now. “Fuck me.”
Well, you only live once.
Secretly happy, I raise my arms in the air for Miok to slide the nightgown over my head. The silky fabric falls down my body, all the way to the floor, and I almost groan from the decadence of it all.
“You look beautiful, Your Majesty.” My lady-in-waiting turns me toward the mirror.
My lips part on a soft gasp, and I run the tips of my fingers over the lace lining the V of my neckline. I look both angelic and sexy as sin, and I turn away blushing. Then a wicked smile slowly lights my face.
I might bring Ethan to his knees, looking like this.
“I will take my leave now.” Miok bows.
“Thank you.” I take her hand in mine. “For everything.”
“You are most welcome.” She squeezes my hand. “Be happy, Your Majesty.”
I nod wordlessly, not wanting to make any promises, and my lady-in-waiting leaves the room with another bow. But I stare after her with unseeing eyes.
Maybe . . . I can be happy. In this moment. Ethan and I might not have long, but I can still be happy in every moment I share with him. Even if we only have today. Even if this is the last time.
We can be happy together.
With one last look in the mirror, I close the armoire and stand beside it.
Suddenly, my nervousness returns full throttle, and I don’t know what to do with myself.
I still have time to run before Ethan gets here.
I’m being ridiculous, but my heart disagrees, beating out a bruising ruckus in my chest.
What happened to cherishing every moment together?
Before I can climb out of my skin, a firm knock sounds at the door, and I jump a foot in the air. Get a grip, Sunny.
“C-come in,” I wheeze.
Ethan steps inside and slides the doors closed behind him with more care than necessary.
I take the time to study him while he has his back turned to me.
His simple green robe, cinched around his narrow waist, accentuates his broad shoulders.
My eyes drop past the hem to the muscled contours of his bare calves.
Moisture gathers between my thighs, because he is definitely naked under his robe.
His hair is wet, like he’s just taken a bath. He obviously brushed it, but it’s already starting to curl every which way in thick unruly waves. His shoulders rise and fall as though he’s preparing himself, then he turns around and takes a good look at me.
He goes very still, like someone hit pause on him. He definitely stopped breathing. But his eyes . . . they run wildly over me.
“Breathe, Ethan,” I say softly, feeling more powerful than I’ve ever felt before. This beautiful male is my husband, and he wants me as much as I want him.
With a heaving gasp, he finally resumes breathing. I beckon him, and he stalks toward me, his eyes frantic. He takes my hand in his trembling one and drops a reverent kiss on my knuckles. Biting my bottom lip, I run my fingers through his damp strands.
“Sunny,” he whispers, his head still bowed over my hand. When he raises his eyes to meet mine, my knees turn to water at the hunger burning in them.
“Oh you poor, poor male.” A sultry smile curves my lips. “At this rate, you won’t survive what I’m wearing under this.”
A low growl my only warning, he pulls me into his arms with a rough tug, and I melt against him. My smile widens, even as tears prickle behind my lids.
I am home.