Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Almost immediately Sean knew the moment had been lost. Maeve seemed jittery, and as much as it galled him, he knew he would have to begin again, slowly.
“Would you care for some champagne, darlin’?” he asked. “Maybe you’d like to get undressed first? I’m waitin’ to see what confection you’ve packed.”
“Confection?” she asked warily.
“Aye, I thought it was customary for the bride to wear some bit of a frilly, feminine thing on her weddin’ night.”
“’Tis true, and I do have somethin’ in my bag, but I told you I was hungry.”
“You did at that,” he replied snapping his fingers. “I’ll call room service and we’ll order somethin’ up.”
“I’d rather go down to the dinin’ room,” Maeve answered, rushing to gather her clothes. “I’ll only be a moment,” she called over her shoulder as she went back into the bathroom.
Sighing, Sean put his shirt back on and brushed off his jacket. As soon as Maeve came out, he took his turn freshening up. She was just putting up her hair when he returned. Together they left the room and rode the lift down. There was a short wait before they were shown to a table.
Over a traditional roast beef dinner, they made small talk, but every time he tried to quietly turn the conversation to more intimate matters, she changed the subject.
And she dawdled. Each piece of meat seemed to be chewed several dozen times.
She played a bit with her mashed potatoes, and when the waiter finally came to clear the table, she lingered over her coffee and suggested they have dessert.
Sean flatly refused.
“We have fresh strawberries upstairs and ice cold champagne,” he insisted, rising and handing the bill and payment to the waiter. “That will do fine if ’tis a sweet you’re cravin’. I’m cravin’ somethin’ entirely different,” he stated as he took her arm and helped her from her chair.
He was not in a mood to be put off any longer, and it seemed almost cruel of her to stall when she’d nearly been ready to give herself to him a couple of hours ago. It also seemed pointless to prolong her case of nerves when he knew with certainty she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
To be the one to taste her for the first time, to slide into her sweet curvy body, well it would be curvy again if he had anything to say about it, he thought as they rode up to their floor.
Her ridiculous diet annoyed him. Why fool with perfection?
Her breasts were lush, her behind so tempting he had the urge to smack it each time he walked by her.
Her soft cheeks were slightly hollowed now, and the twenty pounds she’d lost, were twenty too many for such a small woman.
Tonight was not the time to bring it up, but they would discuss it.
He’d not have his wife starving herself even if the fashion magazines were plastered with pictures of women who looked like waifs.
Unlocking the door to their room, he ushered her in, hanging the sign on the door before he closed it, checking to make sure it was securely locked. No more interruptions. Taking off his jacket and hanging it in the closet, he loosened his tie.
“I’ll take my shower now,” he stated opening his bag and removing what he needed. “Do you need anythin’ before I do?”
“No, I’m fine,” she replied, going to the window and opening the drapes. The lights of Paris seemed to mesmerize her, and he left the room. Twenty minutes later, he returned freshly shaven and showered to find her in the exact same spot.
“Go and get ready for bed now, Maeve,” he said, regretting it sounded like an order when she looked at him with a crestfallen expression. Heavens, a body would think he’d ordered her to undress and spread her legs so he could take his pleasure.
Wearing only silky pajama pants, he opened the champagne as soon as she disappeared into the bathroom with her bag.
He flinched when he heard her click the lock.
Sighing, he took her spot at the window, wishing his mother had not only sprung for a king-sized bed as she should have, but a balcony as well.
It would be lovely to feel the evening breeze.
When they arrived in New York, he would see if he could upgrade their room at the Plaza.
He wondered just how patient he should be with his bride.
He’d been slightly shocked when she asked him earlier if he planned on spanking her.
Was she expecting it? Did she need it; a demonstration of his authority over her, a sample of what would happen if she didn’t obey him?
That very morning she’d taken a sacred vow to do just that, obey her husband, but surely not in that way.
Sean wanted her to come to him freely because she desired him as much as he did her. Physically he was much stronger and within his rights to take possession of her. He had no doubt he could please her in the end, but it would be a piss-poor beginning. No, she had to come willingly or not at all.
Besides, his Maeve was brash and brave. She was full of fire and sass.
What she was experiencing now was simply a case of bridal nerves and nothing more.
Once the deed was done, she’d likely be more than willing to come to their bed.
It was his job, no, his duty, to see she got past this little snag as quickly as possible so they could enjoy the rest of their trip as well as their lives as husband and wife.
Pushing the cart over to the only large chair in the room, he poured two glasses of champagne and took a seat in the big, comfortable wing-backed chair.
A few moments later, he heard the shower shut off.
The wait after that seemed endless until she finally emerged from the bathroom looking like an angel.
Her long gown was white as snow and nearly transparent beneath the matching robe.
Her auburn hair was still damp and dark, hanging nearly to her waist. Sean’s jaw tightened as he fought the urge to go to her and rend the gown from her body with one strong tug at the low cut neckline.
He could see her pouty nipples protruding.
His mouth watered, and he swallowed hard and cleared his throat.
“You are truly a vision,” he said a bit more harshly than he’d intended.
“Thank you,” she whispered in reply, twisting her hands in front of her.
“Come to me, darlin’,” he said softly, holding out his hand. “Come and try the champagne.”
Slowly she approached, hesitated when he took her hand and made to seat her on his lap. He choked back his groan when she wiggled into a comfortable position and took the glass from his hand.
“Mmm, ’tis good,” she agreed, taking a sip. “Much better than what we served this mornin’.”
“Aye.”
“So you like my gown?” she asked fingering the fragile fabric.
“Aye.”
“T’was horribly expensive,” she admitted. “I spent a good deal of my savin’s on it.”
“You needn’t have,” Sean said. “’Tis lovely, but you could have come out of the bathroom with nary a stitch on and I’d have thought you were just as beautiful.”
“Don’t be silly. Everyone knows a woman is more appealin’ in somethin’ pretty.”
“Not everyone,” he contradicted. “Lord knows ‘tis difficult enough not to ravage you when you’re wearin’ ordinary clothes, my love. In this, ’tis damn near impossible.”
“Really?”
“Can you not feel me beneath you?” he asked. “There are only two layers of thin fabric keepin’ us apart.”
“I feel you, O’Malley. It’s big now, bigger than ever before, and I know you’re goin’ to rip me apart,” she said.
He watched her lip begin to quiver and brushed the hair away from her face.
“And here I thought you were the bravest girl I’d ever met,” he said with a sad sigh.
“I am brave. What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
“You’re afraid of a little—”
“Not so little,” she hissed back, giving another wiggle.
“How would you know?” he teased. “How many have you seen, or felt for that matter?”
“None but one, yours,” she snapped back.
“Aye, and ’tis a good thing,” he replied. “Therefore, you have nothin’ to compare it to.”
“That is true,” she said thoughtfully. “Perhaps compared to other men yours is small and of no consequence. Perhaps I’ve made a good bargain.”
Sean roared with laughter until tears ran down his cheeks. Grasping the back of her head, he pulled her in for a hard kiss.
“Here have a strawberry,” he commanded, picking one up and holding it to her mouth. “I’ve a mind to taste it on your lips.”
Maeve took a bite, the sweet juice bursting out. She tried to lick it away, but he beat her to it, kissing her deeply and savoring the taste.
“Do you know how many times I longed to grab you and kiss you when you used to wear that strawberry lipstick to school?” he asked when he let her come up for air.
“No, how many?” she whispered.
“Hundreds, thousands,” he replied, holding another succulent berry to her mouth.
She hesitated but for a moment before taking another bite. He devoured her mouth again, kissing her until he felt her melt onto his lap. Reaching over, he dropped a few berries into the ice and water holding the champagne bottle.
Maeve lay back against his arm now, looking up at him with wide eyes.
Slowly, he reached for the ribbon that held the front of her robe together and tugged.
It came apart easily, and he spread the delicate material exposing the nearly transparent gown beneath.
The neckline was so low he easily brushed it open, exposing her breasts. Maeve gasped and jumped a bit.
“Relax, my love,” he cooed gently. “You like this, you know you do. Remember that night in my flat? You insisted you wanted more, in fact, you were quite wicked about it and almost earned a second spankin’ if you recall.”
“I recall,” she panted.
“Then be still,” he ordered quietly. Reaching into the ice bucket, he plucked out a berry.
Maeve automatically opened her mouth but he took a bite instead, smiling at her frown.